by J. A. Saare
Annabel's nose crinkled. "You sound just like Momma."
"She knows what she's talking about."
She stopped coloring, shoving a lock of hair behind her ear. "You wouldn't have slapped them?"
"No," I answered and smiled. "I would have done something better."
I could sense her intrigue. "Like what?"
"Well..." I paused and looked her in the eye. "I wouldn't let them anywhere near my awesome tree house, for starters. They can go play in the woods and get fleas and ticks."
Her giggle made me feel more light-hearted than I had in days. Calmed by her presence, I settled in. We had a lot of catching up to do.
Chapter Twelve
Since it wasn't late enough to visit Burlesque, I asked Noah if we could visit Peter after we'd left my father's house. He remained mostly silent and obliging, doing as I asked. As much as I appreciated his sympathy and courtesy, it was starting to get on my nerves. He wasn't acting like the Noah I knew, who exuded dominance and confidence.
That had to change before we went to Burlesque.
His uncertainty made me feel uneasy.
"Noah," I addressed him calmly, trying to make sure I maintained control of my emotions. "I've been through hell, but I'm not going to break."
He hadn't been expecting that.
His eyes darted to me and back to the road. "What do you mean?"
"You know." We weren't going to be mending fences right away, but we weren't going to be fighting either. I'd realized I had to make my presence known on the compound. If not for my sake, then for Annabel's. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but when we work you have to bring your A-game. I don't want to be around Peter while you fester and sulk in the truck."
"I'm not festering or sulking," he corrected with a growl.
"Poor choice of words." They weren't. I'd used them intentionally.
"Are you teasing me, Ray?" For the first time in days, he sounded like the weight of the world wasn't resting on his shoulders.
"Nope."
I wasn't sure if that was the truth or a lie.
When I thought about Steven, I felt like the world was closing in on me. Then there were moments when I didn't think about him and everything felt different. Spending time with my sister helped me remember pain was going to be like that. Coming and going. It had been the same after Mom died. On some days I missed her so much I didn't want to get out of bed. On others I rose without hesitation and greeted the morning, going on with my life.
The reminder made me want to cry, so I redirected my thoughts.
"How do you think he's doing?"
Noah shrugged and sighed. "It's hard to say."
"Bowen talked to him, though." I'd found out that Bowen had driven to see Peter, telling him I'd lost someone close to me and had to attend a funeral. "If something had been wrong, he would have told you."
Noah didn't respond, and I wondered why.
Then, it hit me.
Noah hadn't cared about Peter.
Not when I'd been vulnerable and needed him.
He'd put everything but my care and well-being on the backburner. I also realized something else. If Noah was behaving like this when I was right there, well within his reach, he'd have been even worse with me gone. Not only quiet, solemn, and withdrawn, but out of focus. He'd be totally out of touch. I knew the pack suffered when I'd left, I'd thought about it more than once as I'd gone about my life, but I hadn't fully considered how much my absence complicated an already volatile issue.
No wonder children had teased Annabel.
If Noah had been in his fighting form, no one would have dared say anything about me. He wouldn't have allowed it. They'd have known their place. Other wolves would have been cautious, compliant. No matter what they thought. They'd never have spoken about it aloud, especially not in front of their children.
Noah parked in front of Peter's cabin.
As I climbed out of the truck, I was relieved I didn't scent the atrocious scent of bane in the air. The curtains fluttered as we approached and the door opened before we'd made it to the porch. Not only was I shocked, so was Noah.
Peter looked markedly different.
He'd put on weight, and his eyes weren't red or swollen.
He'd also cut his hair and shaved.
If not for his scent, I might not have recognized him.
"Peter," I said, reaching out to shake his hand. "You look amazing."
This time, he respected Noah. He shook my hand but immediately let go and bowed his head. It was as though we were facing an entirely different man.
"Bowen told me you lost someone close to you. I'm sorry." He lifted his eyes quickly to look at me. "I hope you're alright."
"Seeing you like this definitely helps."
An understatement if ever there was.
"Would you like to come in?" He backed up, beckoning toward his home with his hand. "It's clean, but I couldn't remove all the bane." When Noah's gaze flipped to him, Peter said, "The smell, I mean. Even when I cleaned the carpet and walls."
"You're no longer using?" Noah asked cautiously.
Peter looked at me when he answered, "I told you I wouldn't."
I accepted the invitation first, inching closer to the door, taking a deep breath. The aroma of the herb did linger, but it wasn't overwhelming. One look inside told me Peter had cleaned the place, removing any and all furniture that had been destroyed when he'd been binging on bane. Only a table and chairs remained in the living area, but they were free of dust or debris. I peered over my shoulder and met Noah's gaze. He remained back, trusting me to make sure it was safe to enter. When I faced forward and entered the threshold, I knew he'd followed.
The cabin had been created like many others Noah had constructed on his property and consisted of four rooms. A living area, a kitchen, and a full bathroom. Stairs led to the bedroom, which had been intentionally designed as the largest area of the house. Nothing fancy, but the home was extremely comfortable and functional, especially for a single person or pair.
"Can I get you anything to drink?" Peter rushed by Noah and went to the refrigerator. "I went to town."
"No, please." I went to the dining table and took a seat. "Sit with us."
Noah took the place to my left, and I sensed his hesitation.
I didn't like it, especially as I'd told him he needed to balls up. He couldn't keep acting like this. It would put both of us in danger. I called on my wolf and she woke, stirring and stretching. I made sure she reached out to Noah and rested my hand on his leg. I felt the jolt of pleasure and surprise that spiked through him.
After a moment, he placed his hand over mine.
"The first two days were awful." Peter made the admission as he chose a chair. "But the third was easier. My mind is clearing."
"You've been eating." I was proud of him for that alone. Werewolves burned calories quickly. He could have starved himself to death. "Who cut your hair?"
He raked his fingers over the shorn strands. "Bowen."
"He's a man of many talents," I said, amused.
"Did you actually talk to him this time?" During our last visit, I had wanted to reprimand Noah for his abrasiveness. Now, I experienced relief. Noah had to be strong and fearless. Anything less would be taken as weakness.
"Yes." Although he didn't fully retreat into his shell, Peter did display hints of nervousness. He glanced at Noah and stared at the table.
"Your head has been clear?" Noah questioned, and when Peter nodded he asked, "Have you remembered anything?"
"Just flashes. They're not in order. I can't sort them out."
"Flashes of what?" I asked.
"I don't...I can't...It's hard to explain." He took a deep breath and frowned. "It's like I'm cold but my skin is on fire. There's pain, but it's not from shifting, at least, I don't think it is. This felt...different. It's like a bad dream. I remember bits and pieces. Nothing makes sense."
"What about before?"
"There are face
s, but I don't remember names."
"Male or female?"
Another frown. "Male and female. Both."
"Can you describe them?"
"The man has blond hair, but his eyes aren't right. I can't remember the actual color. Is that strange?" When I shook my head and urged him to keep going, he said, "The woman has brown hair and brown eyes."
"Ethnicity?"
"White. They both are. I only remember faces."
I scented Peter's bitterness. He loathed not being able to answer things.
"Don't worry," I said. "The memories will come."
"How do you know?"
"It's not unusual to experience memory loss after you've been bitten," Noah told him and ran his thumb along the sides of my fingers. An old habit of his. I wondered if he even realized he was doing it. "Especially before and after the first shift. I wasn't lying when I said you're not alone. No one should be changed against their will. It's against our laws. Which is why we need to find out who's responsible. So he or she won't do this again."
"When will that happen?"
"It depends," I answered, knowing he might not like what I was going to say. "We ran your prints. They isn't any record of them, so you don't have a previous history of arrest. We've sent your picture to bordering states, hoping we'll find something in the missing person database. But there are thousands of people to go through, and we might have to check with other states. Until your memories surface, or we have a positive identification, we have to wait."
"What do I do until then?" He stood up and went to the kitchen. "Stay here? Keep waiting? I already know there's no stopping the change. Since I stopped the bane, I already feel different. This is something I don't want. When the full moon comes, what am I supposed to do?"
"You won't be alone." I hoped that provided some kind of comfort to the panicked man, even if it wasn't much. "We're here to help, Peter. With everything, including that."
As Peter filled a glass with water, Noah slid his hand from mine and rose. He gazed over at me, our eyes met, and I knew he thought it was time to go. It was probably for the best. Peter was terrified about what he was becoming.
I could smell his anxiety. We were making it worse.
We didn't need to push him too fast.
"We have to go," Noah said and waited for me to stand before he guided me toward the door. Peter turned, looking at us, and Noah paused. He pulled away from me and went to Peter. When he was in front of him, he placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You've been dealt a royally shitty hand. Now you have to decide what you want to do with the cards you've been dealt. Your life doesn't have to be over. It'll be different, and it won't be easy, but others have come through the same and found happiness on the other side."
Peter inhaled deeply and sighed.
Noah backed off, returning to me.
I expected Peter to respond, or ask when we'd be back.
He didn't.
As Noah approached, and I walked through the door, I wondered if we'd done everything wrong. In an effort to take steps forward with Peter, it felt like we'd taken several more back.
◆◆◆
We arrived at Burlesque several hours later.
Noah had been on the phone during the trip, talking to Jonathan or Trisha about items for the baby's room. I'd listened in quietly, finding things were much the same when they talked and I wasn't directly involved.
When we pulled into the parking lot, I felt taken unawares.
The place was not what I expected.
For starters, there was valet parking.
For another, the clientele and staff were impeccably dressed.
I'd climbed from the truck with a serious case of nerves.
The inside was unlike anything I'd ever seen.
We entered the club and music wasn't blasting from speakers. The tones weren't abrasive or offensive. Instead, someone sat at a piano, playing Chopin of all things. There were numerous dancers on various stages, strutting their stuff without grinding against poles. They looked like ballerinas and trained dancers, wearing thongs and bras adorned in what appeared to be Swarovski crystals. Men and women were seated at tables, drinking champagne, talking softly.
Melissa indicated the business operated as normal in the front.
For the good stuff, we'd have to ask for an escort to the back.
We went to the bar, waiting for the bartender to come over.
"Can I help you?" he asked, his gaze drifting over us.
Damn.
Noah looked acceptable, wearing his normal slacks, dress shirt, and jacket. His normal work clothes. He'd even shaved earlier that morning. I, on the other hand, looked like I'd thrown on clothes for a trip to the grocery store. I hadn't thought to change for the occasion, dressed in blue jeans, a camisole, and a thin knee length vest. Even my hair looked atrocious, pulled into a haphazard pony tail.
"Have you seen this man?" Noah produced a picture of Floyd and flipped it over, so the bartender could see the image.
"One moment, sir."
The bartender walked from the bar and into an area in the back. In less than a minute, another man in an equally pristine suit appeared and strode over to us.
"Please. Follow me."
The situation felt odd on so many levels, but we fell in behind the man as he led the way, weaving through tables in our path. He took us to an elevator, used a key to access it, and indicated we should step inside. The instant we did, Noah and I looked at each other. The scent was one we immediately recognized, the metallic odor combined with a sweetness like honey. The smell was an undeniable dead giveaway.
Vampire.
The doors opened when we reached the top floor.
A male stepped around his desk, running long fingers over a notably expensive suit, and approached us. His body was lean, shoulders broad. He stood about an inch taller than Noah, which was impressive. I'd been around vampires in the past, but none were like this.
"Welcome to Burlesque. My name is Julian Phoenix." He had an accent, but I couldn't place it. Not only did we know what he was, he recognized what we were as well. He studied me for a moment, then went to Noah, keeping a reasonable distance between us. Vampires knew not to interact with werewolf females unless they had to. They were keenly aware of how possessive werewolf males could be. "May I ask who you are?"
"Noah and Eleonora Cameron."
That startled me. Noah had introduced us as a married pair.
I shot Noah a look, but he wasn't watching me, his gaze homed on Julian. He didn't like me near the vampire. The way he moved slightly in front of me, using his body as a shield, made it clear I wasn't to be messed with.
"What brings you to my establishment, Mr. and Mrs. Cameron?"
"I'm a werewolf liaison with the PBI. We're trying to gather information about this man." Noah pulled the photo from his coat and handed it to Julian. As soon as Julian took the Polaroid, Noah brought his arm back, cradling his palm at my lower back, creating another barrier between me and the vampire. "Do you recognize him?"
"He has visited my business."
"In what capacity?"
Julian's chin slowly lifted. He looked Noah in the eye. "As a patron, of course."
"How many times?"
"Only once. Unfortunately, he was curious about something we don't provide. He'd been misinformed."
"Misinformed about what?" I shouldered by Noah.
Up close, Julian was even more stunning. Velvety blond hair draped down his back, striking against the coat made of dark purple velvet, his blue eyes as clear as the ocean. Even his skin was perfect, not a scar or imperfection in sight.
"He was a voyeur, Mrs. Cameron. He liked to watch. While we do allow patrons to view couples during scenes, we have strict rules. Penetration, for example, is not allowed." He returned the picture to Noah and brought his hands together. "Why are your kind looking for this gentleman?"
Noah inched closer to me. "He attacked his wife and children."
"His wife and children aren't human?"
"He wasn't human." Noah's voice deepened. He didn't like going in circles. And he apparently didn't like Julian very much. "He'd been reported missing and hadn't been seen in months. When he arrived at his home, he'd been changed. We were told he was seen here. We're following all leads in the case."
"Interesting." Julian seemed amused. "Werewolves don't visit Burlesque. Well, I suppose that's no longer true, as you're here. In general, however, we cater to vampire and human clientele. Your kind isn't exactly to our," his lips pursed and his head inched to the side, "taste."
"When was he here?" I asked but didn't move, staying in place.
I didn't want to stoke Noah's temper.
I could feel this wolf. It wanted to take over.
"A little over six months ago."
I didn't buy it. "You remember that after meeting him once?"
"Normally, I wouldn't, but as I stated, he was interested in something Burlesque does not provide. When he questioned the staff, I was immediately informed. I gave him the information he required, and he left shortly after." He pivoted and went to his desk. He wrote something on a slip of paper and handed it to Noah. "You might find what you're looking for, but I can't guarantee it. You can provide my name as a reference." Julian's eyes flickered to me. "All guests are screened prior to admittance. You'll need to book an appointment."
"Seems like a lot of hassle for a tittie show."
Noah's eyes shot to me. He looked horrified.
My face heated, and I wanted to melt into the floor and vanish.
I had not meant to say that out loud.
"Perhaps. For you." Julian didn't sound offended. He actually didn't seem like he cared, one way or the other, what I thought or said. "We have cameras, of course. Throughout the building, in fact." Julian's irises shifted, turning almost white as he addressed Noah. "But I'm afraid anything older than three months is deleted."
"Did anything seem out of place when you met him?" Noah had gotten a handle on his beast, in full control. "Is there anything we should know?"
"His personal delights were, and are, of no concern of mine." Julian took two steps back, moving swiftly and with grace. He eased around the desk and sank into an enormous leather seat directly behind it. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. and Mrs. Cameron?"