by Paige Tyler
He knew what Rachel was asking. Simply put, she wanted him to stop thinking so damn much and go with his instincts. But the truth was, he didn’t trust his instincts—human or werewolf. He hadn’t for a long time. Not since he’d learned how terrible he was at knowing whom to put his faith and trust in.
“I wish I could answer your question, but I can’t,” he said. “My first inclination is to protect my pack. I can’t see myself ever trusting her completely.”
He grunted in pain as something suddenly twisted his guts into a knot, making sweat pop out on his forehead and tingles race down his spine. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but Rachel still looked at him in concern.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Just a twinge in my arm,” he lied.
Zane could tell from the look on her face that she didn’t believe him. But it wasn’t like he could explain what the hell had just happened. He didn’t know. He’d never felt anything like it before. It was like his inner wolf had just punished him for doubting his soul mate.
Rachel’s eyes narrowed, a sure sign she was about to start digging, and he had no desire to go down that road. Time to get this discussion back to the real reason he’d stayed there instead of going with Alyssa.
“Now that we’ve talked about my issues, how about we talk about yours?” he said, cutting Rachel off as she opened her mouth. “Diego told me you’ve been having a hard time sleeping lately. He said you wake up in the middle of the night screaming from nightmares.”
Rachel sighed, flopping back on the couch. “Are you effing kidding me? Diego promised he wouldn’t tell you about that. He swore it.”
Zane frowned. “He’s worried about you. And it sounds like he has a good reason to be. How long have you been having these nightmares?”
Rachel didn’t say anything. Instead, she rested her head back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling for a long time.
“I’ve been having them a few times a week since the night I went through my change, but they’ve gotten worse since we came out to LA,” she finally said softly, lifting her head to look at him. “I’m lucky if I get more than an hour of sleep a night now. It’s so bad I have to keep the light on even though I can see perfectly fine in the dark, which is driving Diego crazy. Though I don’t think that bothers him nearly as much as my screams of terror.”
Zane didn’t know what was more disturbing—the brutal honesty in her response, the look of flat-out exhaustion in her eyes, or the fact that she and Diego had kept this from him.
“Dammit, Rachel,” he growled, both angry and frustrated that a member of his pack was trying to deal with something like this on her own. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”
She leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs and staring down at the ugly carpet. “Because I didn’t want to bother anyone with my problems. It’s something I need to handle on my own.”
Zane opened his mouth to tell her that she was a member of a pack now and that meant she didn’t need to solve problems on her own anymore. But then he remembered he had no room to preach considering how hard he’d pushed his pack mates away after being shot by that hunter. He knew what it was like to let pride—and maybe more than a little shame—get in the way of letting people help.
“Gage never told any of us what happened to you the night of your change,” he said slowly, trying to tread carefully. The events that flipped the gene and turned a person into a werewolf were always extremely traumatic. Rachel was clearly still working through hers and might not want to talk about it. “Not that he ever would,” he added when Rachel looked at him suspiciously. He didn’t want her thinking he and the rest of the Pack sat around talking about her. “Hell, I don’t even know how long you’ve been a werewolf. But I’m assuming what happened to you was really bad if it’s still affecting you now.”
Rachel shot him a glare, her normally brown eyes flashing the vivid green of a female werewolf. He glanced at her hands to see that her claws were extended, too. No doubt about it—she was pissed. More often than not, getting angry could cause werewolves to lose control and partially shift.
“It happened about a year ago,” she said, her claws retracting as she regained control. A moment later, her eyes returned to their normal brown. “And yeah, it’s still affecting me. But it’s nice to hear you’re completely over the events that happened the night you changed. Gage mentioned you’d been in the war and lost some friends. I guess you put their deaths behind you with no problem, right?”
Zane flinched like she’d slapped him. Harry dying in his arms. Billy bleeding out all over the ground. Oliver begging to be left behind. No, he’d never be able to put those memories behind him. They might not be wrecking his sleep every night like they had in the beginning, but they were still there.
“Sorry,” he muttered, feeling like a jackass. “That was a stupid thing for me to even say. I’m just…” He sighed. “Look, I’m trying to help here, okay? But I don’t know how.”
Her eyes flashed green again, but the anger faded more quickly this time. “I know you’re trying to help, and I appreciate it. But let’s face it—I can’t even seem to help myself, so I’m not sure what you think you can do.” She took a deep breath. “I’m starting to think that maybe I’m going crazy.”
“You’re not going crazy,” he said firmly.
Damn, he wished Gage were there. Their commander was much better at dealing with stuff like this than Zane was. If Rachel needed help with how to breach a door or how to study for an exam to get promoted, that he could do. But Gage wasn’t here, so he had to try.
“I’m starting to see and smell things that aren’t there,” Rachel said softly, her gaze fixed on the wall above the TV. “I think most people would agree that’s a sign I’m going crazy.”
Bloody hell. If Rachel was hallucinating, this was bad. As in way-the-fuck-over-his-head bad. But short of looking for a shrink in downtown LA who treated werewolves, he was on his own here.
“You mentioned it’s been getting worse since coming out here,” he said. “Is that when you started seeing and smelling stuff?”
Rachel opened her mouth, then she closed it again as she thought about it. “Before, actually. I guess I didn’t make the connection between that moment and what’s been going on out here because it was kind of nice in the beginning.”
“What do you mean, nice?” he prompted when she didn’t continue.
“The morning after the hunters attacked us at the compound, I woke up from a great dream and noticed this seriously amazing scent. Only I didn’t smell it in my apartment. I smelled it in my dream.”
Zane had definitely never smelled anything when he dreamed. He hadn’t even known it was possible. For werewolves, scents were simply a fact of life. They were surrounded by thousands of them every day. If a scent stood out—like Alyssa’s did for him—it usually meant something significant.
“What kind of scent?” he asked.
Rachel blushed. “It was leather and gun oil.” When he didn’t say anything, she glared at him. “What? I’m a cop. I like the smell of well-worn leather and gun oil, okay? It’s not like I can control what scents show up in my dreams, so don’t you dare judge me. You can’t tell anybody either. I haven’t even told Diego about this part.”
He held up his hands in surrender. He’d never thought Rachel would be the type to worry about what he—or anyone else—thought about her. If leather and gun oil did it for her, that was fine with him. “I’m not judging. And I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”
That must have satisfied her because she nodded.
“So it started with picking up the scent of leather and gun oil in your dreams. You said you’re also seeing things. What exactly are you seeing?”
“This is the part that’s harder to explain. And why I think I’m going insane.” Her brow furrowed. “I keep catching sight of someone out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn to see who it is, there’s no one there. Most of the t
ime it’s when I’m out of the room, but it’s happened in here, too. Even when Diego is with me.”
“And you think the smell and this person are connected?”
Zane had the feeling he knew where this was going—even if it was too insane to consider.
She considered that. “Yeah, I guess, since sometimes I pick up the scent and see the person out of the corner of my eye at the same time.”
He took a deep breath, not sure how she’d take what he was going to say. “Don’t get pissed at me, but do you think there’s a chance the scent you smell and the person you see out of the corner of your eye might have something to do with the hunter you let get away at the compound?”
Rachel’s face went blank, her heart rate kicking into high gear. Jumping up, she circled around the table to stand in front of it, her claws and fangs extended, her body tense, as if she was getting ready to attack—or respond to the attack she thought was coming her way.
Zane stayed where he was, holding up his hands in a placating gesture to show her she wasn’t in danger. “Relax, Rachel. It’s not like that. I’m not saying you let that guy get away on purpose or did anything to put the Pack at risk. I’m just asking if you think it’s possible there’s a connection.”
Rachel stared at him for a long time before the green glow faded from her eyes and her fangs and claws retracted. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Who told you?”
“Brooks,” Zane said, naming his pack mate and best friend. “He said you had a clear shot at one of the hunters and didn’t take it. He wasn’t sure what your reasons were but decided he should give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“It didn’t keep him from telling you about it,” she said flatly. “Is that why you’ve been so hesitant to trust me while we’ve been out here? Do you think I’m working with the hunters or something?”
He frowned. “What are you talking about? I trust you.”
“Are you effing kidding me?” She snorted. “You think I haven’t noticed that you won’t let me do anything on my own. You make sure you or Diego are with me 24-7 and keep me away from any situation where either of you might have to depend on me.”
He wanted to deny it, but that was hard to do when it was the truth. He’d have to suck it up and deal with it. “Okay. I guess I have been keeping an eye on you.”
“Keeping an eye on me. Another way of saying you don’t trust me,” she shot back, her eyes swirling with green.
“You never answered my question,” he said. “Do you think the person you keep seeing—and smelling—could be the hunter who got away?”
“Would you believe me if I told you?”
“Yes.”
Sighing, she put her hands on her hips. “I suppose it could be the hunter I let get away. I don’t know why I even think that, but it feels right.”
He nodded. “Do you know why you let him get away? Or why you think you keep seeing him?”
“I don’t know,” she answered.
Zane had a pretty good idea why. After telling him Alyssa could be The One for him, he was stunned Rachel didn’t see it too. But maybe some people couldn’t see what was right in front of them. He knew a little something about that, and thinking a hunter might be your soul mate was disconcerting to say the least.
Rachel walked around the table to sit on the couch again. “Since we’re getting all this out in the open, I should probably tell you about the part of the nightmare that makes me wake up screaming in the middle of the night and freaking the hell out of Diego.”
“Okay.”
“That’s when the dreams started getting darker and I started dying in them.” She swallowed hard. “And that person I see out of the corner of my eye now and then? He’s covered in blood. And I’m pretty sure it’s mine.”
Zane didn’t know what to say. He got chills just listening to the scene she described.
After a moment, Rachel got up and slipped into a light jacket like their conversation had never happened. “I’m going to run down to In-N-Out and pick up some more burgers and fries.”
“I’ll go with you,” he said, then added, “I could use a walk.”
Rachel looked like she didn’t buy his BS, but she also looked a little relieved to have company.
Neither of them said anything as they made their way along the busted sidewalk. That was fine with Zane. He was too busy wondering how he was going to deal with everything. Not only did he have to determine if Stefan was hiding Curtis and help Alyssa locate those missing girls, but he also had to figure out if she was indeed The One for him. On top of that, he had to keep Rachel from losing her mind and help Zoe and Chloe find their alpha. All while his bum arm left him little more than half a werewolf.
Bloody hell, he was in so far over his head.
* * *
“You know, you could have ordered anything you want,” Alyssa said to Zoe and Chloe, sitting on the other side of the table at the restaurant where she’d taken them to lunch. “It’s on the FBI’s dime. You didn’t have to go with the cheapest thing on the menu.”
Zoe and Chloe looked up from their ooey-gooey grilled cheese sandwiches and smiled at exactly the same time, with exactly the same smile.
“We ordered grilled cheese and potato chips because we both love them,” Zoe said. “Not because they’re cheap. After all the money you spent on us this afternoon, saving a few bucks is the last thing we’d be thinking about.”
Alyssa smiled, satisfied the girls weren’t depriving themselves out of some twisted sense of guilt. The whole purpose of this little shopping spree and late lunch had been to get the twins out of their hotel room and hopefully get their minds off their troubles for a little while. It wasn’t like retail therapy would bring back their parents or make their nightmares go away, but if it helped for even a few minutes, it would be worth it.
“Thanks again for all the clothes,” Chloe said softly. “But thanks even more for the personal hygiene stuff. Rinsing the one set of clothes we had in restroom sinks was getting old, but brushing without toothpaste was the absolute worst.”
Alyssa laughed and munched another one of the fries that had come with her ginormous turkey club. “No problem at all. If you two decide you need anything else, call me and we’ll go get it.”
The girls nodded and spent a few minutes paying attention to their food. Alyssa had to admit they were holding up a lot better than she’d expected. Of course, having experienced something similar herself when she was about their age, she knew there was a good chance the girls were in denial at the moment, refusing to even think about what had happened to them, much less talk about it. She knew from experience that coping mechanism wouldn’t work for long. But until the girls were ready to talk, there was little anyone could do.
“I want you guys to know that if you ever need to talk, I’ll never be more than a phone call away,” she said softly. “Even after we get this all taken care of and go our separate ways, you can always call me. Okay?”
Even though both girls nodded again, Chloe looked so timid right then that Alyssa knew she wouldn’t be ready to talk for a while.
While the poor girls ate like they were starving, Alyssa couldn’t eat all of her sandwich. Between the donuts this morning and the fries at the motel, she was still full. That was okay. Zoe and Chloe had no problem taking up her slack, splitting the remaining half sandwich and the rest of her fries, then practically inhaling them. They might be small, but they ate like Zane.
“Have you two thought about what you’re going to do next?” Alyssa asked as they collected their shopping bags and headed out of the restaurant. “I know Zane mentioned you guys wanted to stay in LA for a while. Are you just planning to sightsee and stuff, or is there someone out here you came to see?”
Chloe glanced at her curiously as they walked back to the car. “Zane didn’t tell you why we wanted to stay?”
Alyssa shook her head. “No. I assumed it was something private.”
“It was,” Zoe agre
ed. “But we thought since you two were partners that he’d tell you anyway.”
“Oh, we’re not partners,” she admitted with a laugh. “We just met the other night.”
Zoe exchanged looks with her twin, as if they were somehow communicating with each other telepathically, then smiled at Alyssa. “That doesn’t mean you won’t become partners soon.”
Alyssa almost laughed. She remembered what it was like to be that young and naive. Zane was definitely attractive, and even if they ended up in bed at some point—never mind overlooking the whole he-may-not-be-human thing—there was no way in hell the two of them would ever end up as partners. Not when they were worlds apart.
It wasn’t until she dropped Zoe and Chloe off at their hotel that she realized the twins never did answer her question.
* * *
“You changed your hair again,” Alyssa said the moment she walked into Christine’s tiny broom closet of a space at the FBI’s LA field office. She’d curled her shoulder-length, dark-brown hair just enough so that it framed her face and softened her features. “Wasn’t it straight when I saw you the other day?”
Her friend looked up from her computer with a smile. “I didn’t really change it as much as left it up to fate to determine what it was going to look like today. Obviously, fate likes my hair to have some waves to it because this is what it looked like after I washed it.”
Alyssa shook her head. Christine’s hair looked better by accident than hers did on purpose. Alyssa could use a curling iron on her hair for an hour, and five minutes after walking outside, it was straight as a board and going wherever it wanted.
“Well, whatever you did or didn’t do, it looks great.”
Alyssa took a seat in one of the two chairs in front of Christine’s desk. She couldn’t help noticing her friend had added a few new pictures to the wall behind her desk since Alyssa had been there last. Anyone who’d ever met Christine figured out pretty quickly she was obsessed with photos. At least when it came to her family. Images of her husband, who was also in the FBI, pixie-size daughter, and goofy German shepherd, Klaus, covered every available wall and flat surface in the office. Not that Alyssa blamed her for putting them up all over the place. Her family was photogenic as hell. Great hair, an awesome family, and a cute dog.