by J. A. Saare
After a third time skimming the file, I flapped the picture of the tattoo in the air. "Have any idea what this is?"
"It’s the unofficial emblem of BDSM."
Peeling myself from the reports, I frowned at Noah. "It's what?"
Noah’s lips curved slightly. "Bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism. BDSM."
"Alrighty, then." I couldn’t believe I was blushing, but here I was, cheeks on fire. "Does he remember anything about that?"
He shook his head. "Only what it means."
A distinct possibility came to mind. I peered down at a blurry Polaroid of Peter’s face. "Is he aggressive with the girls in town?"
If so, it would explain a lot.
He could very well be a dominant human.
He'd reach for what he recognized after the change.
"Not that I’ve seen. He’s an extremely nervous person, in a state of constant movement. He’s always biting his fingernails, rocking back and forth, or squirming in his seat. I’ve never pegged anyone as an omega without introducing them to a pack, but…" Noah didn’t finish, but then, he didn’t have to. Peter sounded like an omega, taking in all emotion around him, always ready to crumble to the floor or get the hell out of Dodge when it became too much.
They absorbed everything.
They were blessed and cursed with empathy.
The cabin was one many Noah kept on the north end of his property, near a heavy stream that trickled along the back of the mountain. The metal roofing shone in the light, flashing as the tires hit pot holes and sent the truck lurching.
"Ray." Noah glanced away from the dusty graveled path, and I looked up from the picture. He was staring at me with an expression I couldn’t read, blue eyes cloudy. He returned his focus to the road and shook his head.
"What?"
His hands clenched the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. "Was it necessary to tell Trish and Jon you plan to leave?"
Oh, the irony. "And what would you prefer? That I lie to them?"
He wanted to say more, I could tell, but he didn’t.
We traveled the remaining distance to the cabin with Noah punishing the steering wheel with his hands. I kept my head buried deeply inside the file. If the first day was any indication of what I had to look forward to, the next three weeks couldn’t pass by quickly enough. We arrived in good time, parking in front of the place.
The god-awful tang of bane hit me the instant I jumped from the truck and climbed the stairs to the cabin. It wound its way from my nostrils to my mouth, dripping down the back of my throat like a heavy dose of aspirin. Since my human side was as prominent as the wolf, I had a higher tolerance to the vile stuff.
Noah wasn’t so fortunate.
"Son of a bitch," he snarled, eyes watering. I watched him rush to the door and pound on it. "Damn it, Peter! Open up!"
The curtains rustled, and the door opened wide.
I got a decent look at Peter, as well as the interior of his home.
Not good.
Large swaths of bane littered the floor, scattered along the carpet like garbage. Not only was Peter using the stuff, which was dangerous in and of itself, he had spread the toxic material all over his home.
Peter’s eyes were so bloodshot they appeared red.
"Can we take this to the back porch?" Noah's question was meant for me, not Peter. He made a quick motion with his hand, using the other to cover his nose and mouth. I knew he was in pain, his wolf unable to bear the stench. "I can’t go inside with that."
"Yes." I felt like was on auto-pilot, unable to bear his misery.
I understood why the women in town were creeped out. Peter only had eyes for one person, and it wasn’t Noah. He stared at me like I was a life vessel of some kind, as if he were fully prepared to latch on to me lest he drown in a tumultuous ocean. But unlike the women in town, I was predisposed to be a lupa, and thereby was created to be latched onto.
It came with the territory.
"Hello, Peter. I’m Raven," I spoke firmly, wanting to convey safety and security through certainty and self-assurance. "Can we take this to the back deck?"
That jolted him from his trance.
He blinked rapidly and exited the cabin.
I followed Noah but studied Peter, paying attention to the male's body language and posture. Oddly enough, he wasn’t fidgeting or gnawing on his nails. Instead he kept his head bowed, his hands dangling at his sides. He reeked of bane. His thread bare shirt was coated in the potent fragrance. His hair was long and uneven, and the beard on his face was thick, bushy, and unkempt.
He's so thin.
Noah strode up the stairs and chose his seat first.
I followed protocol and settled into the chair at his right.
Peter seemed torn, gazing between the two of us.
He started to take the chair at my side.
"Sit there." I pointed to a seat across the way, hoping the distance would alleviate the smell of bane coming from his yellowing skin. "Noah and I would prefer to see you while we talk."
Peter didn’t argue or hesitate.
He sat with a bizarre enthusiasm.
Then his chocolate brown eyes rested entirely on me.
"What did I tell you about bane?" Noah grasped the conversation by the throat, going for the jugular. His anger should have made a submissive cower, but Peter wasn’t paying attention to him. "Do you or do you not recall?"
Mr. Skyline only had eyes for the female in his presence.
My wolf rose up naturally, offended by Peter's interest.
She also sought Noah’s beast, needing reassurance.
I didn't have the opportunity to prevent what happened next.
Our wolves touched and merged.
In an instant, they were one.
It was natural, something that occurred when either an alpha or his lupa needed to be grounded. Normally, a pack member—especially an omega—would do exactly as they were told when faced with a mated pair, falling back in line. The power generated by the two of us would be felt easily within a ten to fifteen foot radius. But the minute my wolf made the connection, rising to an equal level with me, Peter’s brown eyes glossed over and his chapped lips parted.
Unexpectedly, bane wasn't the only odor wafting from the male.
"Peter, take your eyes off my mate. Now." Noah's voice was almost unrecognizable. The Alpha in him lashed out at the disrespectful display, scenting Peter’s arousal and lust.
The reality didn’t take long to sink in.
When it did, the truth hit me hard.
I didn’t know much about BDSM culture and lifestyles, but I was aware most relationships involved one major fundamental—a dominant and a submissive. Peter was most definitely the latter. A complete submissive.
I was his exact drug of choice.
He didn't care about Noah. Peter only saw me.
Noah started to rise, and I placed my hand over his forearm. "No," I whispered, soothing the alpha as well as his beast. "It's fine."
"The hell it is," Noah snarled but remained by my side.
"Peter," I said evenly, staring the wolf-man in the eye, hoping my instincts were correct. If not, the male would be dead and buried sooner than later. Michael would be paying a visit to collect Peter's remains from the pack coroner. "If you can’t and won't behave, I’m going to wait in the truck, and Noah can deal with you."
"No, no." Peter almost fell across the table in his attempt to jump from his seat to stop me when I stood. "Don’t go."
I knew Peter didn't fear the threat of Noah tearing him apart.
Peter, without question, wanted to die.
Yet, for some reason, he recognized something in me.
Something that triggered the man inside his beast.
The knowledge made my stomach knot.
When I sat back down, Noah shifted his chair and was immediately in my space. He draped a possessive hand over my knee. The touch put me at ease, reminding me I wasn�
��t alone.
Freaky Petey. Ally hadn't been joking.
"You reek of bane." Noah snorted air from his nostrils.
Peter tore his bloodshot eyes away from me, and looked at Noah. "I need more to stop the changes."
"You’ve already shifted once," I said, making sure I remained calm. "You can't keep the changes away by using bane. You're only killing yourself."
There was no anger in Peter’s voice, just curiosity. "How do you know?"
"If you hadn’t ruined your sense of smell with the stuff, you’d know the answer to that question." At his confused expression, I told him, "You'd notice my scent, which is unique. I'm a lot like you, believe it or not. I wasn’t born a werewolf."
His odd stare made my skin crawl. "You were made?"
"In a manner of speaking." I shifted closer to Noah. "My mother was human. My father is a werewolf. I inherited the trait and it manifested when I was a teenager."
"Manifested?"
"The condition is hereditary. Those of us that carry the dominant trait trigger the shift during puberty. I changed for the first time when I was fifteen."
In a soft voice, he questioned, "Why didn’t you kill yourself?"
"I didn’t want to die, and I still don't want to die," I answered honestly. "It wasn’t easy, and I wasn’t happy about it, but sometimes you have to make hard choices. Mine was to live."
"I can’t be like this." He sounded disgusted. "I won’t."
"What about your family," I questioned. "Don’t you want to see them again?"
"I don’t remember my family," he replied, voice shaky as he rubbed his arms. I felt the boards under my shoes vibrating as he tapped his feet against the surface.
Keeping my voice level and unthreatening, I asked, "What do you remember?"
"I told him." Peter glanced at Noah. "I’m tired of repeating myself."
"I just got back in town today." I plastered a fake smile on my face, but the emotion behind the gesture was faker than silicone. "Can you tell me what you remember? I’d rather hear it from you."
Maybe the smile did it, or maybe he knew it wasn’t worth the argument.
"I don’t remember anything. I woke up alone. In the forest. Time is like a blur. It all blends and bleeds. Nothing makes sense."
"You don’t remember your family?"
"No."
"What about names? Places?" Desperate, I asked, "Objects?"
"Only Peter."
"Your name?"
"That’s all I remember."
I removed the Polaroid of his tattoo from my back pocket. "What about this? Do you remember anything about it?"
He reached for the picture until he got a good look.
His hand dropped to his side, and he shook his head.
"Do you recognize that symbol?"
"He does," Noah informed me, his voice so throaty and thick I almost didn't recognize it. "I asked him about it."
"I told you I don't remember anything," Peter snapped at Noah, eyes shifting to a lighter color even through the influence of bane. Then his eyes went dark and he caved on himself. "Why can’t you just leave me alone? Why can't you just leave me be?"
"Because you’re lying," I snarled, my wolf feeding on Noah's frustration. I could immediately identify the sharp, pungent odor of deceit. My head lifted, my gaze meeting Peter's.
I stared him down, even when he bowed his head.
I had been curious as to why Michael and Noah wanted to save a wolf-man who had no desire to live. It didn’t make sense. Werewolves built their ranks, they didn't weaken them. Initially I'd assumed it was because Peter was a victim. Anyone desperate enough to use bane had my sympathy.
Now, I knew differently.
"I’m nervous," he said, voice breaking."Not lying."
"Oh, you’re lying," I corrected, fury stoked by Peter's deception.
My teeth elongated, fangs coming down.
When I realized I was close to riding the line, almost losing myself, I accepted the calming wash of Noah’s wolf as it surrounded me. My lupa predisposition was taking over. I knew I couldn't help it. The bastard was threatening werewolves with his lie—my pack.
"When someone is nervous," I said, not recognizing my voice, "the scent hovers in the air until another emotion masks it. When someone is lying, the scent spikes and permeates the air completely. You can’t mask a lie. Not to Noah, and certainly not to me. And you’re a fool if you think you're smarter than we are."
"I don’t remember—"
The wolf took over then. Giving me no choice.
I cut him off, leaning over the table, grasping him by the throat. "Who changed you?"
He hissed each word as he could, my fingers were bearing down. "I don’t know."
"What do you remember?"
"I don’t know!"
My ass came out of the chair as the wolf came to life. I leaned closer, moving across the glass and into Peter's personal space. He wasn’t lying now. His scent was muddled with doubt and uncertainty.
"Angel." Placing a hand on the fleshy portion between my back and hip, Noah talked me down. "Don't kill him."
"One question," I said, panting in rage. "Just one."
I'd forgotten how strong the wolf could be.
How savage.
Noah patted my ass. "Ask it."
I glowered at Peter, ready to tear him apart. "What do you mean you don’t know?"
His face changed, brows slamming together. "I mean that I don’t know! I don’t know what anything in my head means. I can’t remember anything, and what I do remember doesn’t make any sense. How can you explain what you can’t describe? I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind!"
He severed eye contact. Seconds passed, maybe minutes, and he sobbed. His muscles relaxed and he sagged beneath my grasp. His shoulders shifted with each new intake of air, and when I glanced at his clenched fists, his fingers were trembling.
It was then that I knew if I didn't let go, I'd hurt him.
"Jesus," I whispered as my human brain clicked on.
What had I done?
The man was about to suffer a mental breakdown.
I released him, ashamed by my behavior. "Peter?"
If he remembered something, why would he be afraid to tell Noah?
"Yeah," he sniffed, lifting his head, wiping his nose along his arm.
This time, the smile I offered was real. "Why are you afraid?"
Peter's gaze darted immediately from mine. His level stare settled on the man at my side. Then I realized what was wrong. He wasn't merely afraid of Noah. The male was terrified of him.
"Noah," I said softly, cocking my head. "Give us a minute."
Noah reacted as I anticipated, snapping, "No fucking way."
I spun around and placed my hands on my hips. "You wanted my help? Then back off. I need to talk to him—alone. I’m a big girl, and I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time."
Noah’s irises flickered, turning silver. "Angel, I warned you."
He grasped me at the shoulders and drew me close. Something snapped in my head and body, a connection like no other taking place. I wrapped my arms around Noah, tugging him toward me. I couldn't deny the true call of my mate. No female could. When the wolf took over, nothing was off-limits.
Oh shit.
Sweet, blessed God.
I hadn't realized how bad the situation had become.
Noah hadn't been goading me, or issuing empty threats. He was close to losing control. In fact, he'd already slipped. Since I'd denied my bestial half for so long, so had I. We came together, bodies touching, hearts eventually synchronizing and beating in the same rhythm. The connection between Noah's wolf and mine ignited, sparked, and flared.
Only this time, I couldn't argue.
I couldn't deny him. I didn't want to.
I welcomed him and his beast.
It was like heaven.
Pure, unfiltered bliss.
Noah growled again, but this time he wasn't angry. His
beast wanted to bask in the radiance of mine. Mine wanted the same. They'd been apart for so long. I struggled, multiple thoughts and memories slamming together. I'd been brought here to help Peter.
Then I remembered Steven.
I found myself in a battle of wills.
The human in me tried to stay in control. The wolf was fed up, wanting to put me in my proper place. This felt right to her, instinctual. She was where she was supposed to be. Nothing else mattered, and I was denying her needs.
Struggling to speak, I pleaded with Noah, "Please."
"You feel that." Noah’s eyes glazed, but he didn't let go. "You know what it means."
I did. How could I not? "Do you want my help or not?"
It took several long, agonizing seconds, for him to release me.
"Damn you, angel," he growled and his wolf backed off. I felt the disconnect instantly, and instinctually reached for it. My wolf resented the withdrawal, even though her mate had merely given in to my request. He motioned at his watch and said, "Five minutes, not a second more. The clock started ticking a minute ago."
My eyes followed Noah as he leapt from the porch and walked to the stream along the back of the property. I took my seat across from Peter. The clock wasn’t on my side, and I didn’t have time to coax any answers. This would require a gesture of goodwill, which didn’t guarantee me any favors.
"I’m going to level with you. Here and now," I told Peter as quietly as possible, hoping Noah was far enough away he might not hear. Although I knew he could if he wanted. "Noah, Michael, and anyone else involved with this know you’re hiding something. I don’t know why they didn’t mention it to me before I came here, or what they hoped I’d accomplish by talking to you. Our situations are completely different, Peter. I wasn’t made by being bitten. I never lost the capacity to think or function rationally because of it. And you've just seen my wolf. She knew you were lying and it made her angry." Embarrassed, I confessed, "I know how hard it is to experience something like that all on your own." I inhaled deeply before I continued. "But, the thing is, you don’t have to be. There is a pack that is willing and able to support and guide you. Be it Michael’s pack or someone else's. You can be with whoever makes you feel comfortable and safe. You don’t have to do this alone."