Getting to his feet, he cast one last look at the woman before heading towards the nearby town.
An hour later, Damien entered the front office of the one and only motel Grassy Hills had to offer. The bell over the door jingled merrily announcing his arrival, and he scowled in annoyance at the happy sound. Out of habit, he scanned the area checking for a secondary escape route and possible defensive positions. There was a door in the back, a few racks of travel brochures, and a shelf of snack foods for sale. The room was clean, even if time appeared to have forgotten it for several decades.
“Afternoon. How can I help you?”
Damien snapped his gaze to the man at the desk. Older, mid-sixties, grey hair but still fit. He had a fishing magazine in his hand and a look of mild inquiry in his eyes.
“I need a room.” Damien walked over to the counter behind which the man was seated.
“Most everyone who stops in here does. Well, except for a few of the locals who come to chat. I always put a fresh pot of coffee on around ten, and they know it.” The man chuckled as he set his magazine aside and got to his feet. “Passing through, or visiting family?”
“Exploring.” He shrugged and gave the simplest answer he could think of.
“My wife and I moved here in the sixties.” The man shuffled some papers while looking Damien up and down.
Damien grunted and pulled out a handful of bills. He didn’t want to talk to the man. All he needed was a room for the night. If it hadn’t been for the presence of the other werewolf he could have stayed in the woods as he had the past week. However, antagonizing the local Lycan wasn’t a good idea. Keeping his nose clean and moving under the radar was his plan, and he needed to stick to it.
“Yep, we were backpacking across the country, just like you. Took a liking to the area, did some exploring and decided to stay on.” The man took the offered bills and slid the registration book forward.
After quickly scrawling a fake name, Damien extended his hand for the key.
“Not a talker, are you? That’s fine.” The man chuckled. “It takes all kinds, that’s what I tell my wife.” He gave Damien the key. “Sorry, it’s not fancy. We’re doing some renovations though. Fixing the place up real nice.” He knit his thick, bushy eyebrows together. “You can stay in this room tonight, but tomorrow morning we’re taking the carpets out...”
“It’s not a problem.” Damien closed his hand around the key and walked away while the man was still talking. It was rude, but he didn’t want to be trapped listening to talk about paint colours and carpeting. He’d done that with Beth when they’d bought their little bungalow. Pain shot through him at the memory, and he cursed the chink in his armour that had let that recollection slip through. Well, he had the cure in his backpack. A bottle of whiskey would fix the problem.
It was near dawn when Damien finally dozed off. He’d been unable to settle, his leg ached, and the bottle of whiskey he’d bought a day ago had been the human variety, much too weak and emptied far too soon to have any great effect. It had forced him to spend much of the night reliving memories that were best forgotten.
The months after Beth died were mostly a blur. Days, then weeks, blended together in a haze of grief and pain that had been almost debilitating. Sometimes human, mostly wolf, he’d traversed the land existing without a purpose; physically alive but in all other respects dead. It hadn’t mattered if he had taken another breath or eaten another meal. There’d been no reason to live, no will to survive. At times he’d despaired, begging the fates to take him so he could be with his beloved mate.
But fate had never been that kind. It had kept him alive, placing a rabbit before him when he would have preferred to starve, having him stumble into a warm, dry den when he would have fallen asleep in a snow bank with the hope of never awakening. On the verge of total despair, fate had kicked him in the ass and forced him to carry on.
Now he was left with a numb bitterness. This was his life; his efforts to speed his exit from it were futile. For some reason he was doomed to continue to exist. At least he had a purpose now. Too bad it meant he brokered in death.
On that gloomy note, he finally fell asleep.
He’d only been resting an hour or so when the phone began to ring. Cursing, he rolled over, the covers tangled about him.
“’lo?” His throat felt dry, his eyes gritty as he tried to peer at his watch.
“Morning. This is Wilf, from the front desk.”
Damien grunted recognizing the voice.
“Sorry to bother you, but the workers are here to replace the carpets a bit earlier than expected and I was wondering—”
“I’ll be gone in an hour.” He hung up without waiting for a reply and climbed out of bed.
Damien leaned against the wall of the shower, his hands propped on cracked tiles as he let the water cascade over his body. The bathroom was dingy and mildewed, barely a step up from the ponds he splashed in when in his wolf form, but it didn’t really bother him. Where he slept or bathed hardly mattered anymore.
Shutting off the water, he dried off then pulled on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt, stuffing the dirty one his small backpack. All his worldly possessions were there: a change of clothes, a toothbrush and a razor. When it was time to leave, to return to the wild, he could easily ditch the bag and never miss it. There was enough money in his pocket to tide him over for several months if need be; his last job had seen to that. His needs were simple; he caught food when required, found a cave or den to sleep in. A rogue wolf could live for months that way.
He picked up his wallet off the table and checked the contents. It contained the only item of importance in his life; Beth’s picture. It had taken him ages to find one since everything had been lost in the explosion. When he’d finally come across a copy of her high school yearbook in a library, he’d had her picture scanned and enlarged. Even though she’d been much younger when the photo was taken, she looked almost the same as the day he’d met her. Sweet and shy but with a streak of stubbornness evident in her determined chin.
Slowly, he stroked his finger over the curve of her cheek and whispered his message. “I’m sending you flowers for your birthday, today. White daisies. I know they’re your favourite.”
Closing his eyes, he thought of how she’d smile, her grey eyes lighting up with joy at the simple gesture, her fingers skimming over the delicate petals. Then she’d stand on her tiptoes and press a kiss to his mouth. He exhaled slowly and tried to imagine the gentle pressure, tried to bring to reality the warmth of her lips, her hands sliding up his chest, her flowery scent wrapping around him...
Of course, it didn’t work.
Beth was dead.
The flowers would be placed on her grave by some anonymous delivery man. And then they, too, would wither and die.
Damien gave his head a shake and snapped the wallet shut before tucking it into his pocket. He’d order the flowers, and be on his way. Staying in town was never a good idea; it increased the chances of being tracked down.
They were looking for him—the Lycan Link Trackers—he’d known that since the moment he’d escaped the infirmary. Rogue Enforcers weren’t allowed. The authorities were adamant about that. Reform or be locked up; those were the choices he’d be given if he was ever caught. With the intelligence of a human and the strength of wolf in its prime, a rogue had the potential to be extremely dangerous. And an Academy trained rogue... Well, that was like a walking time bomb.
Tick, tick, tick... Damien chuckled darkly and wondered if he’d explode should Lycan Link’s posse ever catch up with him. Maybe he would. Going out in a blaze of glory held a macabre appeal at times. To let all his pain and hatred out, to finally be free of the blackness that had settled in his soul. To rip and tear, and to feel the impact of flesh hitting bone, as he attacked his enemy and made them pay.
It’s not the way. A soft voice echoed somewhere in his head and it had him freezing in place.
Beth? He mentally called her name, s
earching in vain for her comforting presence. Like a puff of smoke, her thoughts occasionally brushed over him only to disappear when he tried to take hold.
He sighed, that moment of hope being replaced by logic. His mind was playing tricks on him again, pushing him to the borderline of insanity. The remnants of their mental link sometimes refused to accept the reality that Beth was gone. It was rather like the phantom pain an amputee might feel, painful aches plaguing the patient despite knowing the limb was missing.
His stomach growled and he concentrated on basic necessity. Food, that’s what he needed to make the voices in his head fade away. He hadn’t eaten yesterday now that he thought about it. First, he’d get some breakfast, then order Beth’s flowers. Pulling open the door, he left the shabby room.
Chapter 4
Eve chuckled as she drove into town, thinking of how she must have looked that morning. After peering out of all her windows to check for the wolf, she’d picked up Rafe’s shotgun and cracked open the front door. An early morning mist had drifted across the lake and enshrouded the area around the cabin. It made it difficult to see, but she’d watched and listened, tuning into the quiet pulse of nature. All had seemed serene, but how accurate was her interpretation? Gathering her courage, she’d dashed to her vehicle, almost throwing herself inside and slamming the door shut, her heart pounding furiously. God, she’d probably looked like a caricature of some cheesy action heroine.
She wasn’t the heroine type of course, and would have happily stayed in the cabin like Rafe had told her to; it wasn’t that much of a hardship with books to read, paintings to work on and a collection of DVDs to play on her laptop. However, she was supposed to meet Caro in town, so when a call to his house had yielded no reply, she’d decided to take a chance.
A faint tremor had been noticeable as she’d placed her hands on the steering wheel. While she’d only had to go a few yards from the cabin to her car, fear and the swirling mist had given the impression that it had been much farther. Strange how the idea of being attacked by a wild animal could alter your perception! It had taken her most of the drive into town to calm down and realize what an idiot she was being. The wolf was probably long gone, and yesterday’s call to Rafe had been a waste of time.
Well, not a total waste. The corners of her mouth curled upward as she recalled her dreams of the previous night. Being so close to Rafe had inspired some rather lusty midnight imaginings featuring her landlord pinning her to the bed, while trailing his mouth down her neck and then even lower. In real life she might find him overwhelming, but what he did to her in her imagination was something entirely different. She wiggled in her seat at the memory, her body aching from unfulfilled need. With any luck, she’d be able to continue the dream tonight. Now that was something to look forward to!
The rest of the drive was filled with her planning exactly how the dream should continue. A catchy romantic ballad played on the car radio providing the perfect background for her mental fabrications, and leaving her feeling rather hot and bothered by the time she parked the car. In fact, the waiter at the small cafe, where she’d arranged to meet Caro, gave her several speculative looks as she fanned herself with the menu before ordering a muffin and a cup of tea.
Still contemplating her sexy landlord, she began to doodle on the sketch pad she always had with her, recreating Rafe’s features with easy strokes. Art was her passion and she managed to scrape a living out of it, creating book covers as well as selling her own original paintings. Luckily, Caro was understanding and didn’t mind if she worked from home, a cabin or an office. Today, she’d hand over her latest projects, and then she’d have a week of freedom while waiting for her next assignment.
“Here you go.” The waiter placed her order on the table in front of her and she looked up to thank him, only to have her gaze lock upon a man seated across the room.
Black hair, classic features, stubble gracing his chin. A thin white t-shirt stretched across broad shoulders that tapered to narrow hips and long legs encased in denim. Beautiful. The man was simply beautiful. There was no other word for it.
Completely entranced, she watched as he picked up his mug and brought it to his mouth. His lips were perfect; sensual without being too full. She noted his long fingers, the corded muscles on his forearm. He was obviously fit, but far too thin. There was a look about him as if life had treated him badly.
Shifting her focus so she could study his face again, she was shocked to find him looking directly at her! Heat rushed to her cheeks and she quickly turned her head, embarrassed at having been caught examining him so thoroughly.
Slowly exhaling, she fought for composure. A man who looked like that was probably used to women ogling him. She took a sip of her tea and then reached up to push her hair away from her face, using the movement to flick a glance his direction again.
Eve froze, her hand on her hair. He was still looking at her! Quickly, she dropped her hand and concentrated on her meal. Was he upset? Or interested? That last idea made her heartbeat quicken. Taking a bite of her muffin, she tried to calm herself but her senses had apparently gone into overdrive making her acutely aware of the man across the room. It was a miracle she hadn’t lost control and started reading his feelings. As it was, a faint sensation, hardly more than the whisper of a breeze, was teasing her mind. She clamped down even more firmly on her mental wall, determined to keep her abilities in check.
The sound of a chair being pushed back had her swallowing hard. Was that him standing up? A quick flick of her eyes, confirmed the fact. He was heading to the cash register to pay and then he’d be gone. Regret washed over her, which was ridiculous. A complete stranger was nothing to get in a stir about, no matter how good-looking he might be. Especially since she’d been fantasizing about another man mere moments before!
Pulling a morsel off her muffin, she popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly and staring resolutely out the window. No more glances in the man’s direction were allowed.
The cash register made a light pinging noise as it opened, there was a faint murmur of voices, then the sound of footsteps crossing the room. Eve suddenly realized she was sitting near the door and that he’d have to pass right by her. She grabbed her tea cup and took a sip then nearly choked when he stopped beside her chair, his shadow falling across her table.
She could feel him willing her to look up, waves of power seeming to radiate from him. For perhaps two seconds she resisted but her awareness of him, of his nearness, couldn’t be denied. Giving in to the urging inside her, she allowed her gaze to travel up the length of him.
When her eyes finally met his, the intensity of his stare caused her to inhale sharply. He was examining her feature by feature, a frown marring his brow as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. A muscle worked in his jaw and shadows passed, in rapid succession, over his face as if he were in emotional turmoil; hope, despair, longing, confusion. His lips parted. He appeared about to speak, then his hands curled into fists. With a shake of his head, he abruptly turned and left.
Unable to stop herself, Eve swivelled in her seat and watched him cross the road before disappearing from sight. What the heck had that been about?
Before she could engage in any effective speculation, Caro arrived. Her lemon yellow sports car roared to a halt at the curb, blocking Eve’s view and causing more than one local resident to stop and stare. Exiting her car, she paused for a moment, as if striking a pose should anyone care to take a picture, and then entered the café in a swirl of brightly coloured silk and heavy perfume.
Giving a dramatic sigh, she sat down opposite Eve.
“I’m here.” Caro made the announcement as if she’d accomplished some monumental feat, and Eve barely held back a round of mocking applause. Caro wouldn’t appreciate the humour of the gesture.
“Glad you could make it.” Eve smiled. Caro’s flamboyant shows were enjoyable as long as they were only experienced in short doses. She gestured for the waiter. “Would you like some herbal t
ea?”
Caro shuddered and ordered black coffee instead before leaning back and casting a sweeping glance over her. “Apparently you weren’t accosted by your stalker last night.”
“Um…No. I wasn’t.” She paused, her tea cup halfway to her mouth.
“Too bad, it would have made an interesting addition to your bio.” Caro sipped the steaming beverage that was placed in front of her, and Eve gave the woman a considering look. She wasn’t entirely sure the woman was joking. Deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt, she explained what had happened.
“It was a wolf, not a stalker. At least that’s the creature that I saw watching the cabin. I called Rafe and he came and checked the area for me.”
“Mmm… The idea of your Rafe rushing to save you from a wild beast summons up all sort of yummy scenarios.” Caro licked her lips and then grinned, her teeth strikingly white against her blood red lipstick.
“He’s not my Rafe and he didn’t come rushing to save me. He simply searched the area around the cabin and suggested I stay…elsewhere…until the wolf moved on.”
“Elsewhere? As in his place?” Caro leaned forward, likely expecting to hear juicy details.
“Well…he did make that suggestion.” Eve took another sip of tea, “but I turned him down, of course.”
“Of course? My God, woman, what’s wrong with you?” Caro sat back and shook her head. “The local hunk makes a play for you and you brush him off. Didn’t anything I taught you sink in?”
Eve rolled her eyes. “First of all, it wasn’t a play, and of course I turned him down. He didn’t really want me to stay with him, he was only trying to help out. And secondly, I don’t recall you teaching me anything. In fact, weren’t you warning me off men a few months ago?”
Caro sniffed. “That was because I’d recently broken up with Barry, but now that I’ve found Ross I’m seeing the male of the species in a more favourable light again.”
Betrayed: Days of the Rogue Page 5