by C V Leigh
“Not yet. I want to enjoy this moment. I want to feel you love me.” She pushed him back and straddled his lap, then wrapped her arms around his neck. She crushed her mouth to his and kissed him.
He pulled away. “Tess…”
She silenced his protests by fisting her fingers in his dark red hair and kissing him again.
* * *
“Where the fuck have you two been?” Jacob snapped as Zane and Tess sauntered through the back door. He sniffed the air around them and scowled; the scent of sex clung to them like cheap perfume, making his stomach churn. “Megan’s downstairs, locked in a fucking cage, drugged up to her eyeballs, and all you care about is your dick.”
Tess kicked her boots off by the back door and marched out of the room.
“What’s happened?” Zane asked Jacob.
“Whatever you gave her, it didn’t work. I had to give her another shot.”
“What? I gave her a full dose.”
“It didn’t work,” Jacob repeated. “Get your fucking bag of magic. You’re on guard-dog duty.”
“What’s this? I’m here now, so you’re going back to being Alistair’s pet bitch, is that it?”
Jacob growled. “If you knew what was good for you, you’d keep your cock in your pants and your tongue in your head.”
“If you stopped treating me like a fucking child, then maybe I would,” Zane shot back. He squared up to his older brother. At six foot one, Zane was by no means short, but Jacob still stood a head above him. And he was wider as well as taller. Zane ground his molars together.
Jacob folded his arms over his chest, readying himself for the next punch, ignoring the warning of Alistair’s words that echoed in his mind.
“Pack it in,” Nicholas scolded from the doorway. “You’re both behaving like pubescent teenagers. I’m not surprised Megan is so close to the edge with all this testosterone flying around. Zane, you’re needed in the cellar. Take the meds with you. Jacob; a word.”
Zane muttered under his breath and skulked into the cellar.
Jacob smiled to himself.
“I don’t know what you’re smirking at.” Nicholas brushed a piece of invisible lint from his silver-grey suit jacket and walked over to the worktop to make himself a mug of coffee. “Would you like one?”
Jacob shifted his gaze from his uncle to the door, wondering where Tess had disappeared off to. He sighed and looked back at Nicholas. A whisky would be nice, but after the altercation with Zane, Alistair had locked away all the booze, strictly forbidding any of them to touch it. Jacob was already filled with testosterone and resentment; alcohol would have only fuelled the situation. He shook his head. “No, thanks.”
Nicholas shrugged. “Tell me what I need to know. What should I expect, when I go into town later? Any repercussions following Megan’s… difficulties?”
“She put a guy in hospital,” Jacob said.
Nicholas sipped from his mug. “What happened?”
“We were in a pub. I’d gone to the bathroom, and some guy tried to feel her up. She completely lost her mind and flipped out. Broke his arm and nose. He’s missing a few teeth. To be honest, he deserved it. I’d have liked to have ripped off a few limbs myself. Who goes around groping women?” Jacob sat down.
“Would she have killed him?”
“If she’d changed?” He shrugged. “Probably.”
“What were you doing there in the first place?” Nicholas drank a bit more.
Jacob shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t realise this was going to be the Spanish Inquisition.”
“Don’t get defensive. Alistair has asked me to put it to bed and to do that, I need the facts. So, why were you and your sister-in-law in town?”
Jacob blew out a breath, considering his response. “Alistair was working late and I… I let my guard down. We were both fed up of being trapped here, so we went out for dinner and drinks.” He caught the look in Nicholas’ eye. “As brother and sister-in-law. Don’t give me that shit. I’m not Zane. I’m not led by my dick.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Nicholas said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What next?”
“Anyway, this guy had been eyeing Megan up all night. As I came back from the bathroom, I saw him grab her. She gave him a palm-strike straight to the face and dislocated his arm before snapping it. I picked her up and got her home as quick as possible.”
“How much had you had to drink?”
“My alcohol consumption isn’t in question here,” he snapped. “I’d stuck to soft drinks. I was driving,” he added on seeing his uncle wasn’t going to back down. “I wouldn’t want to bring any disrepute to the family.”
“Who called the police?”
“The pub landlord. They came here to question Megan. As her lawyer, I sat in and made sure she only answered what we could back up. I went to the hospital and made it clear to the guy that if he pursued it, there were just as many witnesses to say it was self-defence. You get my drift.”
“Why use tact when you can use brute force.”
“The guy’s a creep.”
“I don’t doubt it. What happened next?”
“The police were happy to drop it. Self-defence, first time offence. The guy didn’t want to press charges, for some unknown reason.” He smirked.
Nicholas nodded. “I’ll go to the pub and check for CCTV anyway, then head over to the police station and see if any strings need pulling. We’ll cover the victim’s loss of earnings and any expenses, of course. There are enough rumours about Faol Hall. The last thing we need is some drunk going off half-cocked. It won’t hurt to cover our backside.”
“Of course. It’s the Kincaid way,” Jacob drawled. “Throw enough money at it, and eventually it will disappear.”
“It works. We all have jobs to do. Mine is to make sure that bills get paid and hands get greased. Yours is to keep Megan safe. There are some files in the study that Tess brought with her. It might be an idea to do your homework, so you’re prepared for anything else that might arise.” He grabbed a set of keys from the sideboard.
Jacob nodded. There was no point in disagreeing. He might not be the Alpha, but Nicholas Kincaid had been the family’s fixer for longer than any of them could remember.
Chapter Eleven
Megan was a wolf, dressed in human skin. She sat in the pub she’d visited with Jacob, only he wasn’t there now. She was with someone else. Someone from her past. Someone who drew her to him.
Megan looked down at her hands, her vision shrouded in shadow, like an old sepia photograph with vignette border. She flexed her fingers. Claws scratched at her bones, hidden by pale flesh. The gold band Alistair had placed on her finger stretched and cracked, then tumbled to the threadbare, sticky carpet.
Music played. She listened to the soft, melodious tunes, reminiscent of the seventies, float on the air, to the sound of laughter and chatter as men talked about nagging wives and satanic bosses. One looked at her with bloodshot eyes. She could smell the stale alcohol lacing his breath and the smoke woven into the fabric of his work clothes. He wore heavy boots, laced with different colours. His jaw was covered in several days’ worth of growth. His hands looked rough and were stained with oil and nicotine. He grinned at her, showing yellow, crooked teeth.
She looked around for someone–the someone she was with. She cared about him. She wanted him close to her. But whoever he was, he wasn’t there. She was alone.
The man neared her, then gripped her arm, forcing her to face him. She gasped and stared at the grubby stubs wrapped around her bicep.
“What are you looking for, lassie?” he drawled, his voice heavy and slurred by too much drink. “I know you, don’t I?”
“No.” She pulled from his grip. “I’m just a tourist. Passing through.” She looked around, silently pleading for someone to help her.
The barman hung glass tankards on hooks protruding from a low beam. He narrowed his eyes, not believing her story any more than the drunk man did.
“
You here with someone, lassie?” the man asked.
“Yes…” Was she? Where had he gone?
“I dinnae see nobody. Barkeep—another drink for the fine lassie, and one for me!”
“I think you’ve had enough, Graham.” The barman poured another beer anyway.
“I’m fine, thank you.” Megan drained her glass. Blood rushed through her veins and her pulse throbbed in her ears, suffocating the drunk man’s words.
“I think not, lassie.” The man reached out again. His disgusting fingers squeezed her bum, while his other hand groped at her breast.
Almost without her being aware of it, Megan’s hand connected with his cheek. She felt the crunch of his bone beneath her hand.
He screamed and fell backwards. “You fucking bitch!” He lunged at her.
Megan ducked. Then she grabbed his wrist and yanked upwards, forcing him down. He crumpled to his knees, and she dug her knee into his back, pushing his limp body to the floor. His shoulder popped from its joint. She slammed her foot down on his elbow, shattering the two bones that ran to his wrist.
She panted as she hauled him to his feet, then thrust her palm into his nose. More bones splintered and fragmented. Blood spewed from his nostrils and mouth. She ran her tongue over her teeth, revelling in the feel of her canines pushing and growing, sharpening, ready to rip out his throat. Already she could taste the sweet, metallic tang of his blood. Her guts burned. Her ankles cracked.
Someone grabbed her from behind. She spun, prepared to fight, prepared to kill, but was met with—“Nathan!” His name came out on a rush of air. She wrapped herself around his tall, muscular frame.
He guided her out of the pub and into the cool air. She lifted her head to the breeze and looked over the undulating hills of the Yorkshire Dales, so far from the confines of the Scottish Highlands. Far from Faol Hall. Far from the drunk man.
The dark sun fell to the horizon, splitting the sky with black and orange streaks.
“I don’t understand,” she said, resting her head against his arm.
Nathan reached around and ran his fingers over the bare skin of her throat. His sharp nails teased at her windpipe, digging into her neck, before tracing down to her collarbone. Her body responded as it always did; pure and unadulterated lust coursed through her. Her stomach quivered at the prospect of what was to come.
“It’s time,” he whispered, his hot breath washing over her, undressing her as it slid down her skin. She could smell his need, smell the hatred that tainted every part of his soul. She liked it. No, she loved it. She needed it.
“It’s time for you to come home.” He gripped the back of her neck. “Let it come…” he whispered, his words ghosting on the wind.
In the distance, a wolf howled. She tipped her head to the sky and returned the call. Suddenly, her chest ripped open, and she shed her human skin, revealing her true form. She dropped to all fours. He rubbed behind her ears with long fingers.
“Now go.”
Having been given the permission she so desperately sought, she raced towards the horizon, bounding across the wet fields, unafraid of being seen. She panted as she ran, pink tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.
A house appeared from a veil of mist. Megan slowed, padding down the gravel drive. She sniffed at the ground. Nathan’s scent had started to fade, retreating to the banks of her memory. She was too far from him. She needed to go home. Each time she turned, though, a rope pulled her back. It burned against her throat. Ripped at her hair. She felt her skin open and begin to ooze, blood matting in her fur.
“You have to stay.” Alistair was behind her, close enough to smell, too far away to touch.
“Mummy?” Ben’s voice echoed around her.
“Mum?” Michael.
Her children. Both so fragile, so innocent. Scared.
Megan whined, unable to release herself from the bonds holding her down. She lay on the hard ground and licked at the cuts marring her paws. She could see Alistair and the children. She could smell them, but not catch up to them.
And behind her, Nathan grew ever closer.
* * *
Alistair held on to the iron bars trapping his wife. He pressed his head into them, inhaling the metallic scent, tainted by rust and age. The cage had been built into the cellar where most people would have stored wine racks. It was meant to be a place of safety–for those going through their first change. He’d hoped the next time they’d need to use it would be with the children. Michael was fast approaching his thirteenth birthday—it wouldn’t be long before the wolf inside him broke free.
For Megan, though, it was nothing more than a prison. He closed his eyes against her anguished cries. She called out for Nathan. Not for her husband and father of her children, but for the man who had caused her agony, the man who had destroyed her life.
He wanted to take it all away for her. If he could, he would have absorbed her pain. He turned around. At a wooden table, scarred by the claws and teeth of generations of lycanthropes, Zane mixed his latest potion. He poured one liquid into another and tightened the lid of the test tube before giving it a vigorous shake.
“How’s it coming?” Alistair asked, grateful his younger brother had ventured into the realms of science.
“Slowly. You’ve used a year’s supply of sedative in the space of a week.” He sounded disappointed more than angry. “I need to do some more blood tests.” He looked up at his brother. “And a pregnancy test might not go amiss.”
Alistair shook his head. “No. She would have told me if that was a possibility.”
“Are you sure? Seems like a lot of secrets are being kept just recently.”
“She’s not pregnant,” he said firmly. “But do a test if you need to.”
“Okay. The tests I ran last night came back clean. No unusual substances. It’s not a virus.”
Alistair sighed and ran his hands over his face.
Zane held the test tube to the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. He took a needle and syringe from the pouch, fitted them together, and used them to draw up the liquid. “This should be strong enough to keep her settled.” He glanced at the cage. “I’ll go into town later and see if the pharmacy has anything else that might be useful. And a pregnancy test.”
“Right,” Alistair said, not really listening.
Zane capped the needle and put it back in the pouch. “Don’t use it for another six hours if you can help it.”
“Thank you. Zane—”
“No.” Zane put the bag on the table and stared at his brother, at the Alpha of his pack. “I get that you wanted to keep this under wraps. I get that you don’t particularly want the Council snooping around and finding out what happened in town. I don’t get why you had to ask Tess to lie to me.”
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes just recently. I’m trying to fix them.”
Behind him, Megan stirred. Growls and snarls emanated from the cage. He looked over his shoulder. She was curled in the foetal position, clutching her stomach and crying out in pain.
“Nathan’s more than just the dickhead who turned our beloved Megan into a snarling bitch, isn’t he?” Zane asked.
“He killed her family–her human family. You know about the Yorkshire pack, right?”
“The Yorkshire pack? As in, howling beasts on the Dales, scaring the shit out of the locals and inspiration for many books and movies, giving all lycanthropes a bad name? Yes. I know of them. What do you plan to do?”
“Until we know where he is, there’s not much we can do.”
Zane walked over to the cage, the heavy set of keys in his hand jangling against his thigh. He found the one he needed and unlocked the cage. He sank to his knees and pressed two fingers into her wrist. “She’s calming down.” He dragged a blanket over her. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Keep an eye on her. I need to talk to Tess, find out what she dug up on the Council’s systems.”
“What about Jacob?”
“Jacob’s
not a doctor. She needs you right now.”
Zane smirked. “First time for everything, I suppose.”
Chapter Twelve
Tess scanned the files spread on the desk. “I can’t,” she said, looking at Alistair, who stood in the doorway. “Hacking into the BPC’s system was bad enough. The Americans, though? Not only is it illegal, but it’s also stupid. They’re not to be messed around with, Alistair. Surely Nicholas knows somebody over there? Maybe he could pull a few strings or do… whatever it is he does. I mean, do I really need to break the law? Again?”
“Nicholas is headed into town on other business. I need to know with absolute certainty it was Nathan Trevell who stepped off the plane.”
“Well… what about Jacob? Or Derek? They know people on the other side of the pond, don’t they? Why me?”
“Tess! Please!”
She bit her lips shut. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.” She hesitated. “Zane’s becoming… antsy.”
“I’ve spoken with him. He knows as much as we do now.”
“You forget he’s an adult.” She folded her hands together. “I may not have known him for as long as you, but I think I know him better. I know I shouldn’t say anything, but I can’t help it. I love him, Alistair. I love him so much, and it makes me furious when I see the way you treat him. And Jacob for that matter. Why do you think he went into medicine instead of law? Why do you think he chose to live in Edinburgh, away from the family home? It was to get away from you!” She took a deep breath. “And now you’ve dragged us all back here, and we don’t even know if there is anything to be worried about.”
“Something is affecting Megan.” Alistair kept his cool, unruffled by Tess’s rant. “It’s my job to keep the pack safe, and I can only do that when you’re all under one roof. I promise, as soon as this is all over, you can go back to your lives and only come home for the holidays.”
He rolled up the sleeves of his burgundy shirt, baring the dark red-brown hairs of his arms. “But for now, I need you to do your jobs. Drake is on his way. I need to prepare the rooms for the children. They’ll be here this evening.”