The Society Series Box Set 2

by Mason Sabre

  “Cade?” She pressed her hands together and held them between her thighs. He was wolf, she was wolf, and it came naturally to them to touch and to sooth, but for whatever reason, Natalie knew that would be a mistake. His eyes might have been aimed in her direction, but he sure as hell wasn’t looking at her.

  “Please talk to me.”

  He only frowned in response and then exhaled loudly. “I’m fine.”

  He was fine … two words … She clenched her fists at those words and bit the inside of her lip. “Okay.”

  She had endless rows of data and long lists of items she needed to get through for Jessica’s case files. It was ironic. Them working together, in the same office, it was supposed to bring them closer, but right then, Natalie couldn’t have felt further away.

  It was just the two of them in the room. Cade’s desk took centre stage. It was surrounded by files, papers and boxes of cases he was working on. Her desk was in the corner by the door—the only space he had cleared for her. She liked it, though. It was her own little piece of his world.

  After she read the same number for a fifth time, she put her pen down and pushed back in her seat. Any other days, she could sit and work and push all this aside, but it had been too long now.

  Clicking the lock into place, so they weren’t disturbed, Natalie went over to Cade, but he only gave her a half sideways glance when she came close and leant on the edge of his desk. Then he went back to his aimless staring, and frustration reared its head, making Natalie’s wolf rise inside her.

  At the best of times, she didn't like being shut out, didn't like being ignored, but this, it was so much worse. It was a confinement even though she had done nothing to deserve it. Done nothing to deserve whatever reason he had for going cold on her. She leant down to him and tucked her fingers under his chin, careful not to graze across the wounds on his neck from the silver. All the bruises on his skin might have faded, but the red welts on his neck, wrists and ankles still blazed with heat and pain. He couldn’t even wear a tie, or fasten the top button of his shirt. She might not have known Cade for very long, but she knew him enough to know he never went to work so casually dressed. It had to hurt, a lot.

  “Look at me,” she said, throwing command into her voice as she tilted his head. The wolf in her called to his with a mixture of dominance and care. “What’s wrong?”

  He met her gaze with deep blue eyes, a blue too dark to be just that of the man. No, his wolf was there too, dominant, angry, hurt. It rolled off Cade in waves and threatened to choke her.

  “Talk to me.”

  “I’m fine.” He moved his head, breaking free from her hold and moving so she had to let go, but no, she wasn't going to just go back to her desk and sit in the corner like a good little wolf. She would not let this go now without understanding whatever it was. This had gone on too long; it was too much. It was her who should have been hurt. Her who had the right to give him the silent treatment. He had stayed out all night, stayed at Gemma Davies’ house, and given nothing by way of an explanation.

  Pursing her lips, Natalie watched Cade for a moment, contemplating her next move. His eyes locked with hers, connecting in that way inside that made Natalie’s emptiness spill up into her chest and almost out between them. She wanted to shout at him and for him to get out whatever it was creating such a void between them now. Things were always better when they had been said.

  At least if she knew what she was dealing with, she could tackle it, but this … this silence between them, it sliced through her like knives and sent her female mind into overdrive.

  They had come so far … she had got so far with him. It had given her hope they would be so much more than just a political union for the wolves. Whatever happened at Gemma’s had somehow sent him backward. She’d been given back the frosty version of Cade she’d first encountered when she had moved in with him.

  “Talk to me, please.” She spun his chair around, so he had to face her properly. He didn't protest, which was good, because he would not get away with that. Enough was enough now. She had done soft. She had done treading lightly with him. He kept his legs together when he faced her. Parting them would have created a V that she could stand in. But that didn't matter to her. She parted her own legs and straddled his thighs. He surprised her when he raised his knees to take her weight. She had wholly expected rejection.

  She was ready for that, ready to fight, ready to yell and demand to know what was happening. She took his movement as an invitation for her and she slid along and lowered herself onto his lap. Raw heat flushed her body as she felt him between her thighs, felt the hardness of his muscles, the connection of his wolf to hers. Her wolf gave a frustrated growl almost instantly at the barrier of clothes between their bodies. She was primal, primitive in her needs and wants. For her mate, the hurts didn't matter. She wanted him … all of him and he was denying her that, but he was there, close, touchable.

  “Please, Cade,” she said again, although this time, she softened her voice, trying to appeal to him, trying to make it so he would open those doors and let her in. She was tired of being out in the cold, tired of knocking and getting no answer. “Tell me what I did wrong.” She dared to reach up and run her hand along the side of his face. She wanted to run her hands through his hair and pull him to her, but she didn't dare force him that much. She needed touch, though, she craved it like a fundamental part of her. Cade relaxed a little when she ran a thumb along his cheek, her touch softening the stubborn wolf inside. “Please.”

  Sad eyes met hers. Sad with such a level of burden in them. “You haven't done anything wrong.”

  “Do you want me to go? To leave?” She had asked him so many times. So sure it was what he wanted. He always said no. He said it again now, shaking his head at her.

  “I’m fine.”

  She slid her hand down from his face, careful to avoid the wound on his neck. “No. You're not.” She wanted to grab him and pull him to her, but instead, she let her fingers run down his chest and find the buttons to his shirt. She opened the second two, revealing lightly tanned skin. When she lay her hand across the taut muscle, Cade let out a sigh, a comforting one that made him close his eyes. His muscles relaxed some more.

  Wolves needed touch, they needed the skin contact. It was a pack comfort to bring them home, even when they were suffering, even when it would feel like the pain was too great. Their touch was maybe the greatest healing bond they had.

  “Natalie …” he said, his voice deeper now, husky, filled with the beast inside him.

  She leant in closer, so their faces were less than an inch apart. His breath danced over her skin and over her mouth; his heartbeat sped up.

  His wolf was brooding, quiet, walking along the edges of himself. She just needed to bring him out and make him better. She pressed her mouth to his and kissed him then, tasting him, murmuring against his skin and taking in that intoxicating scent that was so very male. So very wolf.

  He didn't move, didn't respond. He didn’t even move his hands to rest at her back. She let his mouth go. “Is it me? Is that it?”

  Her chest went tight as she waited for him to answer. She hadn’t realised until that moment just how much she didn’t want that to be true, how much she actually wanted him. She almost couldn't bear the millisecond that passed before he spoke. Pain threatened to lance through her, ready to slice through her heart.

  She sat herself back, and went to slide off him, but he grabbed her wrist and met her eyes. “It isn't you. I promise.”

  She didn't shove his hand off, or break the contact between them. Touching him … even in the slightest of ways, was the only way she was sure she could breach those walls and reach in for his wolf. “Tell your mouth that,” she said, ashamed at how hurt her words sounded. She pulled her hand back then, snatched herself away from his grasp and removed herself from him. “If it is okay with you, I’d like to take the rest of the day off and go home.” She didn't give him a chance to answer or protest as she
slid off him completely. Her face flushed with the shame of her actions. He didn't want her, did he? He could say it wasn't her all he wanted, but he had hesitated, paused. There was enough in that moment for her to understand it all.

  In her haste to get away, she spun too fast, moved too soon and jammed the corner of his desk into her leg. Crying out from it, she buckled and rubbed at the sore. “Shit.” All her emotions threatened to come out then and spill down onto them both. Not just the kiss, not just the hurt in her leg, but everything … every word she hadn't said to him. Every time she had tried and got nothing. Swearing again, she part limped away from him and went to her desk and chair to get her bag and jacket, then she went for the door, unlocked it and pulled it open.

  But it slammed closed again before she went through. Cade was there, his eyes the blazing blue of his very present and possessive wolf. He said nothing, only stared down at her with a piercing gaze and predatory stillness.

  Bracing her hand against his chest, she struggled to hold herself together with him so close to her. “You’re confusing me.” It was like the man and the wolf had separated inside him. The wolf wanted her, claimed her, wanted her wolf for his mate. She could feel that much, but it wasn't enough, was it? She hadn't realised until just then. The man … he was somewhere far away, somewhere she couldn't quite reach and maybe she never really had.

  “I’m trying. I promise I am.” He let his head bow for a second and when he looked back at her, his wolf had retreated to its safe harbour and the man was there in his gaze. “It really isn't you.”

  She was so desperate to fall into him it constricted her chest, but she held off. “You can't even touch me.” The words stung as they came out. “Are you really going to pass it off with the, it’s not you, it’s me crap? Do you really think I am that stupid, Cade?”

  “No.” He exhaled hard, through his nose.

  “Is it Gemma?”

  Cade raised his eyes to look at her, really look at her. He frowned.

  “I heard your father telling you she was officially taking a mate, and that she had signed off on it all this morning. Is that what it is?”

  Several painful silent seconds followed. She didn't need an answer from him. The flash that went across his expression, and the delay in his reply was answer enough for her.

  “Right,” she said, sucking in her sob and slipping out from under him. She pushed him away, opened the door and left.

  Chapter 22

  Cade

  Cade splayed his fingers out against the door and rested his head against the wood. The solidness of it ground him and kept him there. He let out a long ragged breath, filled with pain and relief, but also fear at what he had done, what he had caused. He never wanted to hurt Natalie, never meant to cause the pain he had seen in her face, but that was what he had done. It tore at his chest, knowing he caused another to feel that, knowing he had hurt her.

  Natalie. She was a breath of wind to his wolf, easy, gentle, loving. She gave everything to him, all of herself and yet, he couldn’t grasp it. He couldn’t give back what she deserved. He couldn't lie to her and give her the false hope she so desperately needed. That would have been worse. That would have been betraying her and leading her down a dark alleyway while promising there were no monsters. His heart strummed with sorrow and regret at every step she took away from him.

  “I'm sorry,” he murmured, fisting his hand, pushing everything down. She couldn't hear him, but part of him hoped that she could at least feel the sincerity of his words. It was selfish hope on his part. A part of him that had always vowed he would never hurt another, never cause them the same pain he had felt in his own life, and yet, he had. He could blame his father for it and take every ounce and lay it at Trevor’s door, but that felt like a lie too. Trevor hadn't forced him into this situation. No. He had given him a choice, given him options, and he had sacrificed himself for his need to help Phoenix. He tried to console himself that if he were to go back, he’d make a different choice, but he knew that was a lie.

  He took a step back from the door, fully intending to open it and go after her to tell her he was sorry. He would tell her he was trying, but when he moved, his hand wouldn't respond, and he remained frozen, staring at the space she had just been in. Closing his eyes, he clenched his fist at his side, and ground his teeth. He lost himself to the battle in his head between man and wolf. The man knew what he wanted. Knew it with conviction, but the wolf … he was pure instinct and nature. He was powerful and hungry, but he was starving, needing something more than Cade was giving him.

  On some level—a very deep level, the wolf wanted Natalie. He had tasted her, taken her, and she was his—a match to him in almost every way. He needed her. She had touched him too, soothed him and offered herself completely to the beast who had wanted to take her. But the wolf wanted the tiger too. It wanted the animal that sang to its heart rather than its need. It was pure instinct lost in the confusion of everything.

  Cade waited until he couldn't hear Natalie anymore before he moved from the door. His window overlooked the car park at the back of the DSA building. Natalie was there now, hurrying across it to her car, her head down, her heart broken. He could knock on the window, and she would hear him. Maybe she would come back, and he could fix things, or maybe she would throw him that same look of hurt she had given him before she left. He braced his fist against the glass, ready to get her attention, but it didn't come. Some deep part of his soul froze and made him rigid. “I'm sorry, Natalie.”

  He put his head down and stepped back from the window, sadness making itself at home once more in his chest. His actions became an automation of what his heart felt, what it needed. He blinked long and hard as Natalie drove away, like a dark cloud resting over his head. If he could have made it right with her, made her feel better, he would have. But going to her, if she asked the wrong questions, the ones he couldn't lie about, he’d just create more unneeded agony for her. He took another step and then another.

  Images of Phoenix flashed in his mind, the desperate plea of his heart. If Natalie left, if she called it all off, Trevor would take that as a deal broken. He wouldn't care it was Natalie. He wouldn't give one shit as he’d race out to claim his victory.

  Still, Cade did nothing. He couldn't bring himself to move, or to go after her. He was tired, the kind of tired that was deep and painful. He had been forcing himself along this path, making himself look ahead and not to the side, but Gemma had given him hope the other night. She’d given him something he could hold onto. He ground his jaw at the memory of Trevor, coming to take that away again, his smile, victory clear across his face when he delivered the news that Gemma had taken a mate and made it official. He wouldn't believe it. Not until he had spoken to her. Not until he heard it from her own lips.

  Hours passed, and Cade fought to keep his mind on his work. It wandered and searched, waiting for some glimmer of hope that all was not lost with Gemma. Yet, as every hour passed between them, every minute, he couldn't fight the ball in the pit of his stomach that told him Trevor was telling the truth.

  He had to see her. He had to reach her somehow, but Malcolm had her locked up in the house. To go there, would be to risk her life, and his.

  Growling, he slammed his mind back into his work, going over Jessica’s files and the other work he had. A headache pulsed at his temples, making his eyes sting, threatening to explode in excruciating agony if he didn't move. He leant back in his chair and let out a long, deep sigh. He’d not heard from Natalie since she had left.

  It was growing dark outside. The evening had drawn in early. The wind was growing nippy. It was pack night. The moon couldn't be seen yet, but Cade could feel it against his skin like a lover’s caress. It called to him and whispered words that only his animal could hear. He would answer later when he was with his pack mates. As calming as the call was, it couldn't fight away the heaviness inside him, no matter how much he tried. This was supposed to be the first pack run with his mate present,
with Natalie, standing by his side ready to become a MacDonald. No matter what he said to her, he knew he had probably tarnished that memory and broken it with his inability to answer her.

  Why couldn't he have just told her what she needed to hear?

  Leaving work and going to his own car, Cade walked with dread firmly wedged in his chest. He had to go home and face whatever Natalie would do or say. Yet, when he sat in the seat and put the key in the ignition, he couldn’t bring himself to start the car and go home. He wasn't ready yet, wasn't ready to talk, or to join the race and walk along the wrong path.

  Natalie did not understand that Phoenix’s fate was in her hands. Phoenix himself didn't even know.

  He started the car. He had to go home. No matter what happened, Phoenix had to come first in all of this. It was a desolation he was sure he’d never survive. Not if he caused it. Even if he didn’t. Phoenix had become like a son to him, one of his own and he would lay his life down for him every time without question. Even if it killed him. Even if it tore his heart into such small fragments, he’d struggle to get it back together again.

  The road Cade lived on wasn’t really a road at all, but more of a lane, a dirt road that had been tarmacked over for ease of access to the main town. It led to a dead end. Cade’s house was at the end and his land led onto the fields that surrounded the area. He turned onto it and drove to his house, his home. He had built the house by himself. It was the place he had crafted and poured care and craftsmanship into. A place he had imagined he’d live with his mate … a mate who wasn’t Natalie.

  The light wasn't on in the house downstairs, just the one in Natalie’s room gave a soft yellow glow. She was home, but the missing light downstairs spoke volumes of what she was feeling. She was mad with him, hurt. She had every right to it. She always left the light on for him, and until that moment, he hadn’t realised how much he had got used to it. She left it on because she saw it as a beacon to help him find his way home, again, a way back to her.