by J. A. Saare
His eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
He swiped his nose with the back of his hand.
"Can I be honest?" I questioned and he nodded. "I need to know exactly what you’re afraid of, and I’ve only got three minutes or so to find out. Will you tell me what it is? Or will you force Michael and Noah to do something none of you want?"
His uncertainty worried me. He couldn’t seem to make up his mind. His eyes drifted from the table, to me, to the house—each rotation faster and more frenzied than the one before. He was trying to decide something.
Abruptly, he said, "Follow me."
I did as he asked, staying right on his ass.
He led the way to a clump of trees to the left, the roots of each buried within deep red soil. He collected a thin fallen branch and stopped, crouching down. He started drawing something in the dirt. In seconds, he was finished.
He moved away, allowing me to see.
"The first night they brought me here, they took me to an office. There were papers tacked all over the walls, several articles and random clippings. I looked them over to pass the time and see if I remembered anything at all. Then I noticed a picture with this symbol. I recognized it, but don't know why." He patted the outer rim with the tip of the stick. "When I asked what it was, Michael explained it was the banner of the enemies of supernatural creatures. He asked me if I knew what it was, and I didn't know what to say. I wondered if I said the symbol was familiar, I'd be in trouble. I got nervous and wouldn't answer him. He wasn’t very happy."
There was little reason to speculate on how unhappy Michael was.
I stared down at the rounded circle that represented the sun and the interlocking crescent shape of a moon. The Coalition of the Sun and the Watchers of the Moon, two groups that came together to obliterate those they felt threatened by.
"It’s bad." He sounded terrified. "Isn’t it?"
I didn't answer. "What do you remember about these emblems specifically?"
"Only that I know them somehow, and I can't remember why. I swear. I don’t know anything else." He was desperate now, body trembling, causing his words to rattle. "I’m not lying."
His scent proved he was being truthful.
He really didn't understand.
And he was scared.
"I know." I patted the top of his head. "It might not mean anything, just a random memory. You could have seen them before you were changed. That could be all. Your mind is broken at the moment, it's understandable."
"Time’s up," Noah yelled angrily, storming at us from the back of the cabin.
Peter lurched to his feet and kicked away the evidence, tossing the stick on the ground.
I rounded on Peter before Noah made it to us. "Do me a favor, okay? Please." He stopped moving and his brown eyes latched desperately onto mine. "No more bane. It will kill you."
"Will you come back?"
"If you promise not to use bane, then yeah." I hope he listened and believed me. "I’ll come back with Noah next week."
Noah walked in a direct path to me. His large palm clasped my shoulder and forced me to take a step back, until our bodies touched. His scent was stronger, rolling off of his skin. The entire display screamed possession, and I resented the hell out of it.
Bending low, he nuzzled my ear and said, "No one said anything about taking a trip off that porch, angel. Next time, I’m not going anywhere. I’m sticking to your ass like Velcro."
"Save the macho crap for a pack member who cares." I shoved him away and stepped out of his hold. "I’ve had just about enough of this alpha male attitude from you. You’re behaving worse than a randy pup on prom night."
Whatever response he had in mind was cut short by the loud buzzing of his cell phone. He scowled, yanked the device from the attachment on his belt, and placed it against his ear.
"This is Noah."
Peter has moved away slightly, standing under the laughable amount of shade created by the trees. Now he was displaying the nervous traits Noah indicated, gnawing at the pad of this thumb. His gaze darted from me to Noah as his feet shifted from side to side.
The poor man couldn't stay still.
"I’ll be there in under an hour. No matter what happens, don’t let anyone inside." Noah ended the call and looked at me, his expression unreadable. "We’ve got to go. There’s been an attack in Ogden."
Thoughts of Peter were pushed to the side. "What happened?"
"I’ll explain as we drive." Noah wrapped an arm around my waist and told Peter, "We’ll be back. Don’t do anything stupid between now and then."
When we made it to the truck, Noah opened my door, waited until I was safely inside, and closed it behind me. Then he ran around the side. As he opened his door and climbed in, his cell started buzzing again.
"Damn it." He clumsily started the vehicle while he answered the call. "This is Noah." He grasped the handle to the steering column, pressed the break, and pulled the gearshift into drive. "We’re already on it. No one has been inside. I’m not sure. ETA is thirty minutes. I’ll call you when I know more."
Noah ended the call, tossed me the phone, and grasped the wheel as he maneuvered the truck out of the driveway. I waited until he was in control and back on the stretch of gravel leading from Peter's cabin before I collected his phone and handed it back to him.
"What’s going on?"
"Do you remember Tom Anderson?"
"Of course."
Tom had been a formal PBI investigator assigned to the pack right before I left. I hadn’t had a lot of time to get to know the man, but from what I recalled, he was young, quiet, and serious when it came to his job.
"He was dispatched to a call. A wolf inside a family residence. The neighbors reported screaming."
I felt like an adrenaline junkie, the thrill of returning to the frontlines made my heart accelerate and my pulse quicken. "No one has been inside?"
"The first officer on the scene tried to enter. He was attacked and pulled into the house. His partner called for backup." Noah pointed at the glove box. "Get the guns and badges and make sure the magazines are stocked. I haven’t had to use them in a while."
I tried not to think about how exciting I once found this, how exhilarating. As Noah’s mate, I was privy to all of the action, placed right on the frontlines. He was made stronger because of me, and fed off the energy gained by my presence, as well as the calm and level-headedness I provided.
Consequently, the power went both ways.
When I opened the glove box and peered inside, my breath caught.
I recognized the matching pair of holsters with the stainless steel etching, as well as the sidearms inside. They were the very same ones that Noah had given me weeks before I’d learned the truth, right before he took me on a call for the first time.
"Go ahead," Noah encouraged softly. "They don’t bite."
The weight of each was substantial but not overly much, the design of the weapon ensuring you got the most bang for your buck without going full-on Dirty Harry. I brought the holster marked with my initials to my chest and skimmed my fingers along the carefully placed stitches that Noah had placed inside the leather to commemorate the event.
That day had been one of the happiest of my life.
He’d given me the guns, we'd gone on a call to control a group of rowdy teenagers, and when we'd returned home the entire pack had been waiting for us inside the living room. Noah had told them it was time to make it official, to ask the question they all anticipated was destined to come sooner rather than later. They'd decorated the room, ready to surprise me. As he kneeled in front of me, assuming a subservient position for everyone to witness, and asked me to be his lupa and true mate, I’d never felt more loved.
His eyes met mine as I handed him his weapons.
My steel reserve had slipped, a painful flip-flop inside my chest reinforcing exactly why Noah Cameron was my kryptonite.
He felt it too.
"Raven… " He drew a breath. "Angel…
"
He placed the guns on the seat beside him, reached out to me, and wrapped his fingers around my wrist. His touch was electric, the first one since our reunion in which I didn’t want to pull away, flinch, or demand he back off and give me space. My breath caught as our wolves brushed together without anger, bitterness, or hurt to distract them. The bliss and serenity it created inside me was something I believed I’d never experience again, no matter how often I awoke from my nightmares practically screaming for it.
Noah glanced at the road, then back to me.
His features mirrored his hope, his pain, and his torment, causing the shield erected around my heart to crumble. I knew I had to remember what he had done, to remind myself of the misery his betrayal had caused, but it was impossible when the bestial portions of us, which had yearned for each other for so long, were given time to reconnect.
The rush was potent and debilitating.
"Noah," I whispered, trying to think. "I know I—"
The buzzing of his cell phone shattered the moment.
This time there was no bravado on my part when he sighed with obvious regret and released me to answer the call, nor was there a sarcastic retort or blissful feeling of relief that I’d gotten hold of myself just in time. If anything, the shared moment brought tears to my eyes. What I felt told me more about Noah and our connection than I’d allowed myself to admit.
And he knew it.
Chapter Five
Police cars surrounded the house in the back of the Baileyton subdivision that was nestled in a cul-de-sac. News vans were parked outside a sawhorse parameter, with guards standing in front of each one. The heat wasn’t enough to dissuade the nosey glory hounds who lived nearby. Multiple residents were being interviewed at length, their red, sweaty faces animated as they discussed whatever it was they claimed to have seen.
"Holy hell," Noah grumbled and rolled down his window to flash his badge to the officer blocking traffic. The heavy-set man who was perspiring all over his uniform yelled to the people at the make-shift gate. They parted the barrier and waved us in. Curious stares greeted us as we idled by the onlookers. Each were wondering what part we played in the investigation.
He pulled behind two black, unmarked, Dodge Chargers and parked the truck. He shifted forward and slid into his shoulder holster, making sure it was firmly in place before he checked his magazines and looked at me to make sure I had mine in place as well. Mirroring his motions, I patted the bundle under my right arm, followed by my left.
"Just like old times," I said without thinking. My heart skipped a beat as his smile vanished, and he glanced down at my holster. I waited to see if he’d get angry at the reminder of our time apart, holding my breath. He shocked me by reaching for the keys, shutting off the engine, and opening his door.
Shaking my head and forcing my trembling hands to settle, I climbed from the vehicle and followed suit. As I closed my door and strode past the truck, I set eyes on Tom Anderson. Long gone was the young, twenty-something human agent recently elevated to PBI status. He was well into his thirties now, with what I was certain was a scattering of premature grey along his temples. His dark brown hair was longer than I remembered, brushing the collar of his crisp, white button down dress shirt. He'd tucked it into black slacks with a matching leather belt.
"Noah, it’s about time you got here," Tom said. He moved away from a man I didn’t recognize who was dressed in similar attire. He hesitated when he got a full view of me, and I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
"Hi, Tom." I extended my hand when he was within reach.
He reciprocated the gesture, pressed his palm into mine and shook, but didn’t give any indication that he was privy to what had transpired in order to cause my absence. "Raven, it’s good to see you."
"Tell us what you’ve learned," Noah said, interrupting our reunion.
Tom released my hand and motioned for us to follow as he forged a path to the house with the still unidentified suit remaining close beside him. "From what we can gather, the disturbance occurred at approximately 4:45pm. A neighbor heard a scream and assumed it was the teenagers next door fooling around. It wasn’t until she heard glass breaking and walked outside to take a look in a window that she saw something she couldn’t identify. She realized something was inside the home. She's the one who phoned the authorities. The officers arrived on the scene ten minutes later. One entered while the other stood guard." Tom glanced over his shoulder at us. "The officer who entered the residence never made it back out."
Officers moved aside as Tom flashed his badge and garnered clearance.
"Who’s inside?" Noah kept his voice low as Tom stopped on a patch of lawn near the low rise porch. "How many people?"
"That’s where things go from bad to worse. See that van?" Tom hiked his thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the driveway. "That’s the only mode of transportation registered to the resident of the home. Marcy Stamp. Her children have a regular schedule that three neighbors have backed up within a thirty-minute timeframe. At the time the phone call to the station, they would have been inside the home preparing dinner."
"Have you heard from the family?"
He shook his head. "All calls made to the residence have gone unanswered. We were given a cell number by the neighbor who contracted law enforcement, but it goes directly to voice mail."
Noah lifted his head and rotated in a one-hundred and eighty degree circle. Although normal people wouldn’t recognize the importance of his actions, I did. He was scenting the air, checking to see if one of ours was inside. While wolves were the predominant lycanthropes in the southern states, they were not the only ones. There were all sorts of shifters, ranging from non-lethal birds to beasts of prey. It didn’t take him long to figure out what I’d gleaned the moment we strolled onto the lawn and neared the residence.
The cause of the destruction and uproar was, indeed, a werewolf.
"You’re going to need to push your lines back another hundred feet or more, and tell all the news crews to leave," Noah instructed and nodded at the shoddy barrier and officers keeping the observers in check. "The residents will need to take shelter inside their homes. This isn’t a freak show or the aftermath of a tornado."
"Gareth," Tom said and lifted his chin, staring at the man to his right.
"I’m on it." Gareth turned and started yelling orders to the officers on the lawn.
"Once we go inside, set up a parameter around the house. We'll enter from the front door and work our way through. Order your men to shoot anything that tries to escape."
"Including you?" Tom questioned with a grin and glanced over his shoulder, observing Gareth who rushed to move people back.
Noah returned the smile, and I realized that in the time I'd been gone, the two had become friends. "They do that, and you’re fucked."
"When did that become a bad thing?"
Noah’s grin faded and he shook his head.
He turned to study the house with his back to me.
"What’s your plan?" Tom gazed at me when he asked the question, and I realized it wasn’t because he wanted my input. The glare he bestowed was one of warning, his eyes narrowed and observant. He and Noah had become close. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Noah had told Tom exactly why I'd been gone for seven years.
Noah pivoted around and Tom's gaze moved from me.
"We’ll perform a sweep, starting at the front door. I don’t suppose you have a blueprint of the house? Knowing the layout will help."
Tom didn't have a chance to answer.
A furious and bloodcurdling roar came from inside the house, and Noah and I reacted. He took point, removing his gun from the holster as he strode to the door and opened it. Dimly, I perceived the panicked shrieks of the news crew and residents lingering outside, but I quickly brushed them aside.
"Tell me you’ve been practicing with a sidearm, Ray," Noah said as he entered the demolished living room with me hovering inside the doorway.
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br /> "Don’t need to, remember?" I replied and pulled my gun free.
The first time I’d practiced at the range, I’d been told I shot as if I’d been born with a weapon in my hand. To my absolute relief, I discovered that sense of balance and ease with the weapon hadn’t faded. The furniture looked like a wild animal had gotten hold of it. All of the cushions, minus the one in the center which was remarkably unscathed, were shredded. Balls of cotton covered the entire room. The screen of the plasma television was shattered, and the bookshelf on the far wall had been broken in two. The books that had survived the fall were ripped into shreds, although a few of the covers were intact enough to make out the name of the authors if you focused.
"Which way?" I whispered.
"To the right," Noah said and started moving, movements intentional, arms up and gun leveled.
We walked past the kitchen counter directly at our right and worked our way around. The refrigerator doors were open, numerous liquids, fruits, and foods were scattered just beneath it. Noah continued forward, walking to a door on the left. It was a bedroom with a large, king-size bed in the center. The linens, comforter, and mattress were destroyed, as were the curtains, carpet, and pictures along the walls. The scent of wolf was headier here, as if the beast had rested on top of the bed before going into a fit of rage and savaging the room.
Noah stepped past me and returned to the kitchen.
This time, we hooked a right around the corner.
The living room was large and rectangular.
To the left was another hallway.
"Watch my back," Noah ordered and stepped across the room, moving quietly toward the entranceway. He took a deep breath before he glanced into the hallway. I knew the moment he located the werewolf, able to sense and feel it through our connection.
"Ray, move back."
A loud growl rent the air and didn’t stop, echoing from inside the confines of the dimly lit corridor. The throaty hum got louder even though I moved away. Noah mirrored my motions, keeping his body in front of me, providing me protection from the danger that was about to reveal itself.