by J. A. Saare
"So you, Michael, and everyone else are going to be busy."
"Until the asshole is caught? Yes, we will be. Michael already has trackers following the scent and trail. It led off the compound, to a street. From there it vanished. We're dealing with someone who broke in, made Peter shift, scaled a fence, and left without any witnesses or evidence."
"You think someone brought him in?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. Michael's bringing in help."
"Who?"
"Violet Silvermist."
Whoa. "The human-fae?"
I'd never met the female, but I'd heard about her. Half-human, half-fae. Extremely powerful. She ran an apartment complex in Alabama. The place was protected by her very own magic. Bowen and his pack resided there.
"The very same."
"How'd he manage that?"
"He didn't." Noah lips curved in amusement. "Bowen did."
"No one can say no to Bowen."
"Apparently not."
"What's she going to do?"
"Track the bastard down."
"Without a scent?"
"She doesn't need one."
I didn't ask him what would happen next.
They'd track the stray alpha and kill him.
"Life without me probably would have been better for all of you." I'd been causing problems and hadn't known the impact they'd have. "The pack has enough to deal with."
"Life without you will never be better for me."
I didn't know how to react to the statement.
"I should stay close to the house. Trisha shouldn't be alone."
"I hoped you would. I have to take Jonathan out. The entire pack, actually. I'd feel a lot better knowing you're watching over her. There are other things you need to do, too. I didn't mention it before, because I didn't think you were ready to deal with it. A lawyer called. He needs to talk to you about Steven's will."
I hadn't considered that. "What does he want?"
"I don't know. There's probably paperwork to sign."
"Sometimes I feel like I'm dreaming," I told him, thinking about the last few days. "A couple of weeks ago, my biggest concern was what I was going to eat for dinner. Now I'm dealing with things worse than my nightmares."
He didn't respond, so I let the conversation die.
With a tug on the elastic band at my nape, I pulled my hair down.
I rose and removed the holsters around my shoulders. I placed them on the ground and strode toward the shimmery water. My shirt, drenched with sweat, stuck to my skin. I tugged it over my head, dropped it, and kept moving. When I reached the edge, I stripped off the rest. I hadn't gone for a swim in years. The water would wash away the grime from the day. I closed my eyes and dove in headfirst. The water felt amazing, I stayed under as long as I could.
I surfaced and heard a splash.
Noah had joined me.
I inhaled and appreciated how clean the air smelled in Tennessee. A mixture of earth, trees, and various plants and flowers. I floated on the surface, looking at the sky, staring at constellations. I'd missed them in New York, where light drowned them out.
In the perfect dark, the radiance of the stars took my breath away.
Something tugged my hair.
I brought my legs down and turned.
Noah wore a playful grin. His hair fell around his face, beads of water cascaded from several of the strands. "Race you," he said and took off to the back of the quarry.
He'd beat me—he always did—but I gave chase.
He touched the wall and dived under the water's surface.
I knew what it meant and tried to change course.
His hand surrounded my leg and tugged me under. I quickly surfaced, saw him, and put my hands on his head. With a solid push, I shoved him down and moved away. I swam to a shallow area, lowered my feet to the rocky floor, and bent my knees. I hovered in the water, revealing my face and shoulders. He followed me and did the same.
"Do you remember when Jonathan tried to race me?" Noah asked.
"He got a leg cramp midway." I grinned, picturing that day. Jonathan had wanted to impress Trisha. Instead, he'd embarrassed the hell out of himself. "He swore he was going to drown."
"He's never come back. At least, not with me."
"Do you blame him?"
"I guess not, but now he'll never know."
"Know what?"
"If things would turn out differently."
I got the comparison he was making. "Maybe he doesn't care."
"Or maybe he does."
"Are we really talking about Jonathan?"
"If that's what you want."
"I'm not sure what I want."
"I know." He came within reach of me, his blue eyes bright in the dark. "You'll have time and space to think. Starting tomorrow, you don't have to worry. You're not going to see much of me."
Because he'd be on the move with Michael and the pack.
It could be dangerous.
He gazed at me for several long seconds, then turned his head.
I knew what he was thinking, because I was thinking the same.
Despite everything, we wanted each other.
We needed each other.
I placed my hand on his shoulder, gaining his attention.
I closed the distance between us, leaned in, and pressed my mouth to his. His lips were soft against mine as they parted, and he deepened the kiss. Our tongues touched, swirled, and drifted from each other. It had been a long time, but our chemistry was undeniable. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me against him. Our skin came together, flesh meeting flesh, the contact making me want more. My stomach fluttered and my heart pounded. If I wanted to, I could pretend the past had never happened. We could be as we'd previously been. Crazy in love, without a care in the world.
Pulling away, I rested my palm on his chest. "Do something for me."
He licked his lips, voice hoarse. "Name it."
"Be careful. Don't do anything risky."
His fingers closed over mine.
He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed the back of my fingers.
"Noah." If I lost him, there'd be nothing left. "Don't leave me on my own."
Please.
He lowered my hand, brushing his thumb over my fingers.
"I won't," he said, meeting my gaze.
That wasn't enough. "Promise me."
He sensed my desperation and reacted to it.
He rose slightly, coming over me, and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I will never leave you on your own." Pulling back, he placed my face between his large hands, gazed into my eyes, and told me, "Never, angel. I promise."
Chapter Seventeen
Don't even! Put that down!" I called out to Trisha, horrified to see she'd picked up one of the large containers I'd carried from the garage for the baby's room. "I'll take it up."
Her blue eyes narrowed as she glared at me.
Then she waddled from sight.
Watching over her made my head hurt.
She wouldn't stay still, and she kept lifting heavy objects.
"Ms. Carthy?" The secretary on the other end of the line returned and said, "Mr. Montgomery can't take your call at this time, but he'll be in touch this evening."
"Can you please tell me what this is about?"
"I'm afraid I can't, Ms. Carthy."
Damn it. "Thank you."
I hung up and left the office.
I'd contacted Steven's attorney early in the morning and had to leave a message. Then a couple of hours later, I missed his return call when I'd gone to the garage to retrieve boxes for Trisha. Apparently we were playing phone tag.
I picked up the plastic container and went upstairs.
The baby's room had been painted pink with white trim. A bassinet placed near the bed had been purchased by Noah's parents, who'd brought it to Trisha when they'd visited a few months earlier. I felt relieved they hadn't been here when I'd arrived. Noah's dad was nice enough, but his mother loathed me.
I could feel her disapproval all the way from Louisiana.
"Here," I said and carefully edged through the door.
"You're worse than Noah and Jonathan. I can do things on my own."
"You're welcome," I responded and turned to leave. "I'll get the others."
"Not yet." I stopped and looked at her. "What did the attorney say?"
"He didn't," I snapped, swiping a strand of hair from my face. "I talked to the secretary again."
"Oh."
The smile on her face faded, and I felt like shit. "It's not your fault. I'm in a crappy mood." I hadn't heard from Noah or Michael. I wanted to know what was going on. "I don't like waiting around."
"No?" She pointed at her stomach. "Imagine how I feel."
"Point taken."
I looked at an open box on the floor. "Need some help?"
"That one," she motioned at the box I was looking at, "has things I don't need yet. Mom bought clothes that the baby can't even wear. Not for years. She didn't mark the sizes or make any sense when she organized things. I don't know what I can use until I look through them."
"Do you want me to put this one back?"
"Yes, please."
I placed the lid on top and sealed it closed. "Want me to bring you another?"
"Sure."
I left and hurried downstairs. I weaved around the living room, walked down the hall, and went to the garage. I had to balance the plastic edge on my hip as I opened the door and went inside. I wondered why everyone had parked out front, and now I knew. There was so much baby stuff, they'd been forced to put everything inside of the space.
It wasn't easy to move around the various objects in my way, but I did my best, trying not to trip. I tried to decide which container to bring in and noticed a rocking chair. Trisha didn't like sitting down, but maybe if I took it inside she'd use it. I put the container down on the far wall, so I'd remember she didn't need it, and snagged the wooden rocker.
I carried it inside and turned to close the door to the garage. Then a scent wafted through the hallway. At first, I thought I'd imagined it, but I hadn't. I ditched the chair, rushing for the living room, and skidded to a halt. The werewolf from the mall stood in the center of the living room with Trisha. He had a gun, the barrel placed to her temple. Her face and scent revealed her absolute terror.
"There's a cup on the table," he said calmly. "Pick it up."
"You're a dead man," I snarled.
"You want to play that way?" He cocked the gun and put his finger on the trigger, causing Trisha to whimper. "I'll play that way."
Shit.
I cautiously moved forward and picked up the cup.
The scent coming from it made my nostrils burn.
"Drink it."
I scented the air and knew his resolve.
The threat he'd issued wasn't a bluff.
He'd pull the trigger.
I only had two options. Do what he said, or rush him and hope for the best. But regardless of the ammunition in the gun, Trisha probably wouldn't survive. Not at that range. Even if she did manage to live by some miracle, the baby could die. No one would be coming home soon. They hadn't even called to check in.
"I'll count to three," he stated.
He didn't have to count. I drank the vile concoction.
He pointed the gun at the loveseat. "Sit."
I stepped to the furniture and did as he said.
"If you hurt her, the pack will never stop looking for you."
"I'm aware, but I'm like a hydra. Cut off my head, and two will take its place." Trisha swayed, and I started to stand when he pointed the gun at me. "Do you want her to fall?" It was then I noticed the arm he'd looped around her swollen stomach.
I started to say something when the room changed.
Everything seemed to be spinning.
"Sleepy yet?" he asked.
I tried to answer but words didn't come.
I flung my arms out, unable to keep my balance.
He lifted Trisha and carried her from the room. I wanted to chase him. I wanted to shift and tear him apart. But such a thing would never happen. Whatever I'd slung down my throat worked fast. I thought he'd just stepped outside with Trisha, but he appeared in front of me.
He picked me up with ease and tossed me over his shoulder.
I tried to take in his scent but couldn't.
My eyes watered, my brain on fire.
I didn't see where he carried me, all but blind in delirium.
I heard a loud noise but couldn't identify it.
Then the ground beneath me rocked and swayed.
The world didn't go dark, and I didn't pass out.
I remained in a state I didn't understand.
I wondered what I'd been given, but couldn't hold the thought.
I had no concept of anything.
Not where I was, who I was, or where I was going.
◆◆◆
I woke up slowly, thinking I'd had a bad dream.
I felt a mattress beneath me. A sheet had been draped over my nude body.
I had a severe hangover. As I moved, I thought I'd vomit.
My wrists felt completely raw, like the skin had been scorched.
I looked down at them but couldn't see.
What had I done the night before? I didn't remember anything.
I rotated onto my back, blinking several times.
My eyes were all messed up, vision unaligned.
Then a distant scream resonated in my ears.
The sound wasn't nearby, coming from far away.
I remembered Trisha and what had happened.
This was no dream.
I tried to sit up, finding my limbs were sluggish and heavy. It took several attempts to rub my eyes. I winced when something burned my cheek. I pulled my hand from my face and tried to see what had been placed around my wrists. The metal felt heavy and thick. I flung my legs to the side and they flopped onto hard concrete. I wasn't in a bed, I rested on a thin mattress on the floor. Aware of that, I crawled toward the only light in the room, keeping my head away from my wrists.
I stopped when my head banged against something hard.
"Don't!" a female voice ordered. "Be quiet."
Not Trisha. Someone else. "Where am I?"
"In hell," the female replied softly.
I lowered my head, resting it against what felt like bars.
Whatever I'd been given remained in my system.
I wondered if I could change and decided it couldn't hurt to try.
But my wolf didn't respond.
I couldn't feel her.
"Trisha?" I kept my voice low. "Trisha?"
"Shut the hell up!" the woman snapped.
"Why?" What did it matter? Trisha hadn't answered.
If something had happened to her, I didn't care about myself.
"He'll punish me for you, that's why."
"Who is he?"
"A piece of shit."
"I'm sure." Still, that didn't help. "I'm asking for a name."
"Dante," she finally answered. "Dante Orr."
Dante Orr? I had never heard of him.
"Who is he?"
"Shit. Don't say anything else. If you do, I'll piss him off and you'll wish you were dead." She spoke quickly, with urgency. "Don't bring attention to yourself. He's coming."
I inched back toward the mattress.
I didn't know the female nearby, but I heeded the warning.
A door clicked open, I was sure I heard the whoosh of an airlock, and then the door slammed shut. The light increased. I heard several bulbs click on, and my eyes cleared somewhat. Revulsion swept over me when I realized I'd been placed in a cell like an animal. Each wall on either side of me was made of concrete, just like the floor. The bars weren't silver, but they were thick and would be hard to bend or break.
I gazed at my wrists.
Skin touching the silver cuffs had blistered and seeped.
I heard movement from whoever had entered the area b
ut said nothing. I waited, finding clarity came as time passed. The area wasn't well ventilated. The primary scents I recognized were earth and concrete. I also noted the sour aroma of mold and mildew, along with other fragrances like alcohol, bleach, bodily waste, blood, vomit.
Lemon balm.
Werewolf.
Alpha.
This was the male I'd scented at Peter's home.
I waited until my eyes adjusted and inched closer to the bars. The male dressed in scrubs and studied things along a table at the opposite side of the room. Blond hair reached his collar. He wasn't built like a pure-blooded male werewolf. His frame far too short, his muscles impressive but not substantial.
I scented the area again.
Wolf-man.
"Good morning, Angela. Drink this. Good. Very good. Give me your arm."
I titled my head against the wall and watched as an arm came through bars, and he collected a blood sample. I couldn't see the female from my vantage point, so I decided to test my luck. I remained quiet, fighting back pain as I moved and the silver cuffs pressed against my skin. Her hair was matted, and her body looked thin. She handed him a cup and he took it. He stood and moved to the counter, putting the cup near a sink and a vial of blood in a rack. He bent down to a compact refrigerator, selected something, and went back to her.
"Breakfast," he said offered her raw piece of steak. "I'll gather your chamber pots when you're finished. Bring them to the door."
I could hear her chomping on the meat and felt sick.
I'd hunted with the pack before, but only a few times.
While my wolf enjoyed the flavor of raw flesh, I didn't.
"Welcome to your new home, Eleonora," he said, and my stomach sank.
He knew my name.
I didn't back down as he strode around a surgical table in the center of the room and came to the bars. I kept my head high, aware of his every move.
He crouched and looked at me. "The rules are simple. Follow them, and things will be much easier for you. Do as I say, when I say. Eat when you're fed. Drink when it's offered. No cursing. No bad manners. Don't speak unless you're spoken to. Conversation distracts from my work. If I want to hear you, I'll ask. Break the rules, and Angela pays while you watch. Do you understand?"
I didn't respond on purpose.
An alpha decided when to speak and be spoken to.
He'd tried to establish his place. I wouldn't let him.