by C V Leigh
“And these are enough,” she assured him. “Now, go back to work, and I’ll see you later.” She whipped her hand from his and twisted back to her computer.
“Five, yeah? I’ll see what I can do.”
She nodded, but remained silent, eyes fixed on the screen. Zane breathed out a sigh, heavy with disappointment. He hated that they put so much pressure on her. She wasn’t just his uncle’s PA, she was the glue holding the family together. She organised everything and made sure everyone knew what was going on at all times. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like she was always keeping something from him.
He’d asked her to marry him once. These are enough. Those were the words she’d used then as well. She didn’t want or need a piece of paper and expensive diamonds to know she’d spend the rest of her life with him. But was it enough?
Perhaps for her, but not for him.
Chapter Three
Faol Hall, Cairngorms
Megan stared at the closed door and took a deep breath. She lifted a hand and knocked on the heavy wood, then waited for an answer before opening it. The study of Faol Hall was very much like the rest of the family home; steeped in history, with décor that suited its age. Walnut wood panelling ran around the bottom half of the walls, with forest-green wallpaper stretching up to the high ceilings. Heavy curtains had been drawn away from the window, but a thick layer of clouds prevented too much light spilling in.
She walked towards the open fireplace and ran her fingers over the dark mantel. She glanced at the painting hanging on the wall above it, smiling as she studied the image of the poisonous flower daubed in blue and purple oils. It was one she’d seen many times over the years, but like the portraits displayed throughout the home, she’d never really looked at it.
“Why do you keep this?” she asked, pointing to the painting. She turned to face her husband.
Alistair sat behind a behind a large antique desk; another heirloom. She glanced at the four wide screens on the wall behind him–the merging of the old world with the new. Each one flickered a different grey and white image, sent from the numerous security cameras set up around the property; a grainy reminder of their solitude.
“As a reminder,” he said, looking back at his screen, apparently engrossed with whatever he was reading. His elbows planted on either side of the keyboard, he rested his chin on clenched fingers, a stern expression etched into his handsome features.
“It’s wolfsbane, right? The plant said to cure lycanthropy.” She gave a small laugh. “What does it remind you of? Angry villagers with pitchforks and burning torches, poisoning innocent victims, while the Kincaids sit in their big house, protected by myth and legend. The wolves of Faol Hall.” She made a wooing noise, pretending to be one of the many ghosts supposedly haunting the old house.
He sighed and looked up at her with bright blue eyes. “It reminds me that times change, and people rarely do. Do you need something, Megan? I’m busy, and you’re supposed to be resting.” He shot a glance at the doorway behind her. “Where’s Jacob? I asked him to keep an eye on you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” she said, tilting her head to one side. “I want to go out. Just for an hour or so. I need to get some fresh air and out of this damn house. I need to run and feel the wind, to be free.”
“We’ve talked about this—”
“No. You’ve talked about it,” she countered, unable to prevent the anger that flooded her words. She looked over her shoulder and caught sight of Jacob, his massive frame filling the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, biceps bulging beneath the sleeves of his top. She rolled her eyes and groaned. “I want him off my case. I don’t need a bloody bodyguard!”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“This isn’t fair,” she snapped, slamming her hand into the wall. “How many times do I need to apologise before you forgive me? I didn’t mean to—”
“This isn’t about forgiveness. It’s about trust and the safety of everyone in this family. You broke the rules.” He kept his voice steady and cool, but she heard his pulse throbbing with the fury that pumped through his veins.
“You can’t keep me locked up like this. Like… like some kind of deranged and dangerous animal. I made a mistake, and I’ve said I’m sorry.”
“It was more than a mistake, Megan,” Alistair said, his voice rising. “You nearly killed someone. If Jacob hadn’t been there…” He blew out a breath and shook his head, but she knew he was just as angry with his brother as he was with her. Megan wasn’t the only one being kept prisoner. “I’m trying to keep you safe,” Alistair continued. “I’m trying to keep everyone safe. I have more than just you two to think about. There are the children…” He pushed away from the desk and stood up. “Come here.” He beckoned her.
Megan pouted and played with the seam of the wallpaper, flicking at an open edge with the tip of her nail. “I just want to run for a bit. Remember when we used to run together? It’s been so long.” She sauntered towards him, aware of Jacob’s amber stare burning into her back. When she reached her husband, she let him wrap his arms around her and returned the embrace, pressing her ear against the hard muscle of his chest. She listened to the steady thump of his heartbeat and inhaled his scent; a heady mix of woody spices and unadulterated masculinity. “I miss you. I would never hurt you or the children. Or any of the pack,” she added.
“I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “But it’s for your own good. Until we’ve got control over this and know what’s affecting you.” He placed his fingers under her chin and tilted it to make her look at him. At forty-six, he could easily have passed for mid-thirties, an advantage of his genetics. “You would do the same in my position.” He leaned down and slanted his mouth over hers. She tasted his morning coffee and the heat of his need.
Megan closed her eyes. She held onto him when he cupped her face, his fingers brushing over the brunette tendrils falling over her ears. He drew her closer, kissing her with an undeniable passion.
“I love you,” he said as he finally pulled away. “I’m doing this because I love you.”
She looked up at him. He was only six inches taller than she was, but somehow, he always managed to make it feel like much more.
“I miss them,” she whispered.
“I know. I miss them too. But Drake is taking care of everything. And they will be here soon. I’ve called the family home so we can deal with this together.”
A tear slid down her cheek. “It makes it harder…” She shook her head and braced her hands against his chest. “You had no right to take them from me!” A growl rumbled in the base of her throat.
“Megan…” Alistair’s voice grew deep with warning. He gripped her arms. “Take control of it.” He let her go. “They will be home soon. Control it!”
Megan twisted to look at the man blocking her path. Everything inside her was hot like molten lava ebbing and flowing. A snarl curled her top lip. Her stomach contorted into tight knots. Every muscle burned, pinched by the need to change.
“You need to rest.” It was an order rather than a suggestion.
“I need to—”
He took her hand, and she relaxed into his touch, fighting the urge to drop to the floor. She looked at their interlocking fingers. “I didn’t mean to.” Her breath caught in her throat.
“It’s okay.” He pulled her into him, stroking her hair while he held her close. She looped her arms around his neck and allowed him to lift her into his arms. He carried her out of the office. Megan nuzzled into him. She found his smell comforting, soothing.
Alistair took her up the sweeping staircase of Faol Hall and along the hallway, only putting her down once they got to the bedroom door. Her feet hit the floor, but she held onto him. “Get some rest,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Jacob will be right outside your door if you need anything, and I’m only downstairs.”
“Don’t leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere, but I need to work.”
“It’s getting worse,” came Jacob’s voice. He must have followed them up.
“Don’t say or do anything to upset her,” Alistair warned. Silence hung in the air for a brief moment.
“Did you check where he was?”
“You don’t think that was the first thing I did when this started?”
Megan swallowed at the lump in her throat. She heard the hitch in Alistair’s breath.
“Alistair, we’ve never had to deal with anything like this before. Are you sure they’re safer here? I could take them back. The city—”
“No. I want them here where I can protect them. And I need you here, where you can protect her.”
“It’s the only explanation,” Jacob said. “His connection with her… we don’t know what really happened.”
“Nicholas and Zane will speak to the Council. They’ll be here later with Tess, and Drake and the children will join us as soon as he can. We’ll deal with it all then. Don’t let her out of your sight. If anything happens to her…” He didn’t need to voice the rest of his threat.
Megan sucked in a breath, pressed her fingers into the grain of the door and closed her eyes. A solitary tear slid down her cheek. Her hands trembled. The fire inside raged.
She was ripping the family apart, and she didn’t know why.
Chapter Four
Alistair returned to his seat at the desk and re-read the email. He took a deep breath. Something tapped at the window, catching his attention. Fat raindrops splattered against the glass, and the naked, twisted fingers of the bare wisteria scratched at the panes. The sky grew darker, like an ominous presence, closing in on the pine forests surrounding the house.
Faol Hall had been in the Kincaid family for generations, named after the Gaelic word for ‘wolf’–an ironic joke made by one of their ancestors. Alistair had considered renaming it, constantly haunted by the rumours circulating around the Cairngorms. His brothers and uncle had insisted it remain as it was though; it was their home, their heritage. The wolves of Faol Hall were legendary rather than myth, with stories spread throughout the Scottish Highlands of the family that transformed into beasts when the moon was full.
Shaking away the memories and thoughts, Alistair picked up the phone and hit the button to dial the Edinburgh office. It was answered in two rings.
“Sanguis Luna Law,” Tess greeted in her usual sing-song way.
“Tess, it’s Alistair.” The line crackled and buzzed, a sure sign a storm was on the horizon.
“Oh, hi, Alistair. I was just about to call you. Derek is at the school, ready to pick the children up when you give the word. I’ve arranged for them to fly to Edinburgh, and Nicholas has organised for the Land Rover to be left in short-term parking with a key at customer services. Saves having to convince a taxi to drive up to the house.”
“And the Council meeting?”
“They’re in there now.”
“And Zane was okay with sitting in on it?”
“I don’t think he was very impressed he was the final option. I know he can be a liability, but to be fair, that is yours and Nicholas’s doing. You’ve babied him. Sometimes I feel more like his mother than his girlfriend, and it’s not fair that you use me—”
“Thank you, Tess,” he said, cutting short her tirade. “You’re the glue that holds us all together.”
“Sure I am.” Her mood seemed to settle. He heard her swallow, heard the stutter of her breath.
“I know you’re keeping something from me.” There was silence on the other end, and for a moment he wondered if the line had gone dead. “Tess?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated leaving his uncle in charge of the family firm. Nicholas Kincaid had always been secretive, even when their father was alive. Malcolm had never questioned how his brother gained information on other packs or the covens, always assuming it was blissful to be ignorant. Alistair, though, didn’t like it. It left him uncomfortable. As Alpha, he should know everything that was going on–it was his right.
“Nicholas asked me to find some files before the meeting. He just gave me some reference numbers. I swear, Alistair, if I’d known who they were about, I’d have told you, but…”
“What files, Tess?” he growled.
“They were about the North Riding pack. Megan’s mentioned in them.”
“What did Nicholas want with them?”
“I’m not sure.”
“And what did they say?” He glanced out the window as the wind picked up, throwing rain across the grounds. “Come on, Tess. I know you too well. I know you read them.”
“She was part of the notorious North Riding pack, headed up by Nathan Trevell. They were put on notice back in the late eighties after several sightings of werewolves,” she said the word as though it left a bad taste in her mouth, “were reported by locals. Nathan had some staunch views. There are several mentions of him arguing with the Council, saying the public should be made aware of our existence, that we’re stronger than they are.” She took a breath. “He tried to stage a coup in the nineties, take over the Council and get rid of the witches, but by then the pack had already been disbanded. He decided to create a new pack. Out of the locals who, in his opinion, were the root of all his problems. Jesus, Alistair, some of the things he threatened, it’s akin to terrorism!” She swallowed. “He bit Megan and turned her. He…”
Alistair steadied his breathing. The wobble in her voice made him wonder if she was on the verge of tears. “Tess?”
“There was a fire. It was devastating, killing her parents, her pet dog, and destroying any evidence. The police suspected arson, but it was ruled an accident. One of the officers was a lycanthrope and reported it to the BPC. Megan and Nathan were brought in by…” She hesitated. “By Nicholas. Nathan was put under guard. Alistair, didn’t you know any of this?”
He nodded to himself. “Nicholas brought Megan home one day, saying she’d been the victim of a rogue wolf. I wasn’t Alpha at the time so wasn’t entitled to any more information than that. Dad was away, and the BPC handled it. Megan never talks about it. She mentioned Nathan’s name, but I guess I never put the two together. Anything else?”
“Erm…” There came the shuffle of papers. “Nathan managed to escape custody before the investigation could be completed. Nicholas was put on his trail and discovered Nathan had made his way to America, and under the Act of Salem 1694, he was granted asylum from persecution. The tensions between the BPC and the Council of American Paranormal Activity meant there was an unwillingness to share further information, and the rift widened to the one we know it to be today.”
“That I know about. But I wasn’t aware of the link between it and Megan.” He rubbed the corners of his eyes, tiredness taking over.
“Why would Nicholas keep this from us? From you,” she corrected herself.
“I don’t know. Anything else? Anything else about Megan?”
“No, nothing. Sorry. Alistair, the meeting’s finished. If Nicholas finds out I’ve read these files…”
“No, of course. I’ll deal with it when you all get here. Thanks, Tess.”
“Alistair,” she said before he could end the call. “I’ve made copies. I’ll bring them with me. I have to go, but you do need to speak to Nicholas about it all. If they’ve covered this up, they did so for a reason.” She took a deep breath. “Nathan Trevell doesn’t sound like someone you want to piss off.”
“No. Thanks.”
“No problem. I’ll see you in a few hours.” She hung up.
“Shit.” Alistair rubbed his hands over his face, the coarse hairs beneath them a reminder he hadn’t used a razor for several days. He tilted back in the leather chair and looked at the painting Megan had asked about. The villagers with pitchforks and burning
torches weren’t the ones he was afraid of.
A crash sounded from upstairs, followed by a shout. “Alistair!” Jacob’s voice echoed down the stairs, reverberating off the ageing wood panelled walls.
Alistair jumped from his seat and raced out of the room in time to see a flash of brown fur rush past him and burst out of the front door.
* * *
Alistair tugged the collar of his coat up. The rain had turned to a light drizzle, but an icy wind still whipped around the estate, biting at every inch of bare flesh revealed to it. He pushed forward, heading for the gloom of the treeline. The firs stood tall and proud; the sentries of Faol Hall. The sun hid behind the clouds, slowly making its descent towards the horizon. He needed to find her before night took over.
It would have been easier if he’d shifted. He could have covered more ground. But he had to keep Megan safe, and he could only do that in human form.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of rotting vegetation and wet earth mixing with the pine trees. He searched for her scent amongst the damp and mulch.
A large shadow moved around the corner of the house. “Jacob, wait!”
Breaking into a run, Alistair raced towards the old barn. The doors were already wide open, and he found Jacob as a large brown wolf, hackles raised, ears flat against his head, shoulders held high. He snarled, baring sharp, white teeth, dripping with saliva. Blood oozed from some grazes across his shoulder.
Alistair flattened his hand and lightly touched Jacob’s head. “Steady,” he said, stroking his thick fur. “She’s just scared.” He bent his knees, lowering himself to the wolves’ level and peered into the shadows ahead of them. Two jade-green eyes stared out. “It’s okay, Megan.”
Jacob took a step forward and gave a low growl.
“Jacob, no,” Alistair warned.
The wolf responded by lying on the cobbled ground.
Megan stepped warily from her hiding place, her body shaking and low. She kept her eyes on Alistair, treading carefully towards them. He stood up and offered his hand for her to inspect. Her nose twitched. A whine squeaked from her throat. She took in his scent, then pressed her cheek into him and allowed him to scratch behind her ear.