“Sure,” he murmured, though he was fairly certain she knew it was a lie, since she already seemed a little too good at reading him for his peace of mind. Especially when his mind was still mulling over secrets and connections and the frustrating unknown.
Max opened the door for her before she could get out another question, then headed around to the driver’s side. Setting his coffee in the cupholder in his door, he started the engine and immediately cranked the heat up for her, since it’d been freezing outside. Putting the truck into reverse, he was surprised to hear himself blurt, “You know, Skye’s worried sick about you. And hurt.” He hadn’t been planning on bringing any of it up, but now that the words were out there, he went with it. “You ready to talk to me yet about why you’re avoiding her?”
She gave a little shake of her head as she fiddled with the lid to her coffee. “Not really.”
“All right.” He pulled back out onto the road, keeping a careful eye on his rearview mirror to make sure they weren’t being followed. “But let me know if you change your mind.”
“That’s it? You’re not going to badger me into telling you my deepest, darkest secrets?”
“You might not trust me yet, but you will.” He slid her a crooked smile. “I can be patient. When it’s important.”
She stared at him for a moment, then looked ahead and took a sip of her coffee. “So what does your sister do?”
He picked his own cup up and took a drink, setting it back down as he said, “She owns a paranormal specialty shop down in Covington, which is where we lived before she met her husband, Brody. He’s a fellow Bloodrunner.”
“Is Covington part of the pack’s lands?”
“No. It’s a human town a few hours away.”
“Why did she live in a human town?” she asked, setting her coffee in one of the central cupholders.
Realizing where this was headed, he bit back a curse. “She lived there because she is human.”
He could feel the weight of her surprise burning against the side of his face as she stared at him across the shadowed interior. “She’s human? How did that happen? Do you have different moms or dads or something?”
“No.” Reaching behind his neck, he rubbed at the knotted muscles there. “I, uh, was human too.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Wait, what? What are you talking about?”
“I wasn’t born this way, Viv.” A quick look to the side showed her shocked expression, and he felt like an ass for not explaining before. “I was human, babe. For nineteen years.”
“I don’t understand. What happened?”
“What do you think?” A gritty laugh rumbled up from his chest, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “You’ve seen Underworld, right?”
“Oh… Oh, Jesus, Max. You got attacked?”
“Yeah. The pack was having a lot of trouble back then, and things got out of hand.”
“I… I don’t even know what to say. I had no idea.” She pulled her hair back over her shoulder, twisting it again in that way that she did when she was upset or seemed to be thinking hard about something. “Do your parents know?”
“Naw. Mic and me, we were born in the Louisiana bayou. I was still just a toddler when my folks dropped us off one day at my grandmother’s place, and we never heard from them again.”
“I… I don’t even… That’s so awful.”
“Yeah, they sucked. But my gran, she was awesome, and she loved us more than anything.”
“So she raised you?”
“For a long time. But she passed away when I was fourteen, so we moved to Maryland to live with our great aunt.”
She turned toward him in her seat, tucking one leg up underneath her, and picked her coffee up again. “Is that what you dream about? The night you were attacked?”
The questions took him by surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“I know you have nightmares. When we were at the motel, you had a few. You get restless and curse in your sleep.”
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
“Are your dreams about that night?” she pressed, sounding concerned.
“Naw. I honestly don’t remember much of it.”
“What then?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Obviously sensing his unease, she said, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I… I’m just trying to learn about you too.”
Before he’d even realized he was going to tell her, Max heard himself say, “I have nightmares about the Novitiate’s ceremony.” He knew she didn’t have a clue what that meant, so he explained. “It’s this thing that takes place after a human has been bitten. The pack gathers out in the woods, around this torchlit clearing, and then guards bring the human into the center in chains.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered, sounding horrified, and he hadn’t even gotten to the grim part yet.
“So, uh, the Novitiate then undergoes their first full change. If they’re able to make the change successfully, without being overcome by the beast’s hunger, then they’re allowed to begin training with a member of the pack.”
“And if they’re not successful?”
Quietly, he said, “Then they’re considered too dangerous to be allowed to live.”
She whispered something under her breath that he couldn’t quite make out, though he didn’t imagine it was anything good. Then she cleared her throat a bit, and asked, “Do they still do things like that?”
“Yeah, but not as often. And not as quickly. They give the Novitiate more time to come to terms with what they’ve become. But there are still some who don’t make it.”
“And you’re sure Skye is safe in this Alley place?” she asked after a heavy pause, sounding less than convinced.
“Safer than anywhere else in the world, Viv. She’s not only got Elliot looking out for her now, but a lot of other people who will fight to protect her.”
“Okay,” she breathed. “That’s…good.”
“You miss her?”
Her response was heartfelt and swift. “God, yes. Skye is the sweetest, most awesome person in the world. I miss her like crazy.”
“Then why won’t you call her?” he asked, picking his cup up and taking another sip of his coffee.
“I want to. I’m just…not ready yet.”
Max could have kept pushing, but didn’t see the point. Not when he was in the same situation. She had her secrets, and he had his.
And more questions about the future than he knew what to do with.
But even though it was going to complicate the shit out of things, the one thing he knew with absolute certainty was that he wanted her.
For that night.
For tomorrow.
And a hell of a lot longer than that.
Chapter Ten
It Wasn’t Your Imagination
After taking some rural back roads to hopefully avoid running into any trouble, they reached her grandmother’s house just before dawn, the moon still hanging like a sly sideways smile in the darkness of the sky. They parked a block away, one street over, then worked their way between some neighboring houses, before coming in through her grandmother’s back gate. With Vivian’s backpack over his shoulder and his duffel in his hand, Max sniffed at the air like a bloodhound trying to catch the scent of a criminal, but didn’t pick up anything strange, and hoped that the bastards after her had checked the place out at some point before then, realized it was empty, and moved the hell on.
She took her keys from her pocket when they climbed the short steps that led to her grandmother’s back door. “This stupid lock always sticks,” she muttered under her breath, struggling for a moment before the door finally clicked open. They slipped inside, and he set the bags down as she quietly shut the door behind them, then flicked the lock. The place smelled fresh and clean, despite having been closed up for a while, and he followed Vivian down the central hallway, into the living room.
Looking around, he saw t
hat the house was decorated just as he’d expected, complete with a seventies color scheme that instead of being retro chic, actually was from the seventies. He checked to make sure the curtains were all drawn, then turned on a small plastic lamp that sat on a table in the back corner. As the room filled with a muted golden light, his attention was drawn to the bookshelves that lined an entire wall. But it wasn’t the titles that had pulled him in for a closer look; it was the multitude of framed family photographs that had been packed onto the edges of the shelves. Photos of Vivian and two dark-haired boys who he assumed were her little brothers, the images ranging from birth until more recent ones, seeing as how she looked exactly like she did now in some of them.
“Jesus,” he muttered, figuring she was barely nineteen in one of the snapshots that had just caught his eye. “Don’t be a creeper, dude.”
“What?” she asked, moving up beside him.
“Nothing.” He rested his shoulder against the shelves as he turned to face her. “I was just talking to myself.”
“You know, you do that more than anyone else I’ve ever known.”
“Sorry.” He shook his head as he felt the heat in his face and realized he was actually blushing. “It’s, uh, usually because of the wolf.”
Her eyes became bright with curiosity. “The wolf?”
“Um, yeah. I can hear it in my head when it talks to me.”
“Seriously?” A wide smile broke across her beautiful face, making it clear she was fascinated by what he’d said. “That’s so freaking cool.”
“Naw. He’s a jackass.”
“Wait, what?” She looked as confused as she sounded. “Isn’t he…well, you?”
He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling awkward as hell. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t really think about it that way.”
“Seriously?” she asked again, while the wolf grumbled something about him being an idiot that he deliberately ignored.
“That probably doesn’t sound very healthy, does it?” he drawled with a harsh laugh, shaking his head again. “I mean, most Lycans can just… I don’t know, accept things as they are. The duality of their nature. But I…”
When his voice trailed off, she said, “You’ve never been able to, because of what happened to you.”
His head jerked with a stiff nod. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was as soft as the hand she placed on his arm. “That… That’s got to be hard.”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds. Usually he doesn’t say much. But lately…”
Her head tilted a bit to the side as she stared up at him, silently asking him to trust her. To keep sharing, no matter how awkward or stilted it felt. “Lately what?”
Another harsh laugh rushed up from his chest. “Lately, he’s been a pain in the ass.”
“Oh.” A frown pulled its way between her brows. “Does he not like me or something?”
“What? No. That’s not it at all,” he said, his words punching from his lips with fierce conviction. “If anything, he likes you a little too much.”
She studied his face for a moment, as if searching for the truth, then gave him another one of those sexy smiles that turned her already beautiful face into something he just wanted to stare at forever. Like for an entire freaking lifetime. Then he realized that she was actually smiling at the idea of his inner beast wanting to get down and dirty with her, and he frowned with confusion. “I don’t get it. Doesn’t that creep you out?”
She thought about it for a second, then lifted her shoulders in a little shrug as a soft laugh spilled out of her. “No. Should it? I mean, he’s you. And you’re not so creepy.”
His lips twitched at the way she was so obviously teasing him, and then she turned and walked across the room, taking her jacket off and laying it over the back of a small sofa. Looking back at the shelf, Max studied another photograph, this one of Vivian when she couldn’t have been more than five or six, looking adorable in a frizzy pink tutu and ballet shoes that his niece Cianna would have killed for. “So you danced at an early age, huh?”
For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to let him change the subject—but then she walked over to look at the photo with him. “Only when my dad was still around. After that, we could never afford it. But my goal is to start taking classes again soon, and maybe one day be able to open my own studio.”
“That’s an awesome plan.”
“Yeah?”
“Hell, yeah.” Still studying the photos, he stepped a little closer to her so he could get a better look at one that appeared to have been taken just last summer with Skye, his cock twitching with approval at the way Vivian’s tight tank top hugged her breasts, both girls smiling broadly into the camera. “And at the risk of sounding like a total cheeseball, if you ever need a captivated audience when you feel like practicing your dance moves, I’m totally up for it.”
She slid a pointed look toward his crotch and gave a delicate snort. “Literally.”
He smirked as he reached down and rearranged the long ridge that had formed in his jeans. “Just ignore it.”
“It’s, um, kinda hard to.”
His shoulders shook as he laughed. “Saying shit like that is not going to make it go away, Vivian.”
She blinked at him as she arched an eyebrow. “Who said anything about getting rid of it? I’m a total fan.”
“Oh, God,” he groaned, shaking his head as he looked around the dated room. “It feels all kinds of wrong to be talking about my dick in your grandmother’s house.”
“Well, considering she’s lived in it for like fifty years,” she mused in a light tone, “I’m pretty sure she got laid here a time or two.”
He choked back a sharp bark of laughter. “Nope, not going there. That’s so not a visual I want burning against the backs of my eyes.”
She grinned as she gave a soft laugh, but he could tell the instant her thoughts turned serious again. “So it’s not long now until my mom gets here, and I should probably explain a few things to you first.”
“Like what?”
“My mom,” she started, seeming to have trouble finding the right words. “She’s…been through a lot of tough living since my dad left, and it’s taken its toll. She’s only forty-five, but she looks a lot older. It’s not like she’s a raging alcoholic or anything, but there have been times when she was pretty self-destructive.”
Max cursed under his breath, hating that she’d had to be around that.
She went on, saying, “The good news is that she’s doing better now. And at least she’s always been there for us, as much as she could be. When it comes to parents, poor Skye was far worse off than me and my brothers.”
“Yeah?”
She wrapped her arms around her middle and slid him a sad smile. “Her mom was a major druggie who bailed on her and her sister when Skye was barely fifteen. Not long after that, the woman overdosed, and then the following year Skye’s older sister was raped and murdered.”
Jesus. He recalled how on the night he and Elliot had reached Charity, he’d told his partner that Skye’s name had probably come from some “nature-loving hippy who wears daisies in her hair.” It sounded like he couldn’t have been further from the truth, and he felt like a shit for it. And it was a beautiful name for an amazing girl. One who seemed to be bringing all kinds of happiness to his partner’s life, for which Max would always be grateful.
“It seriously sucks that she had to go through all that, Viv. But you don’t need to worry about her anymore. Elliot’s one of the best people I’ve ever known, and he’s going to protect her with his life. You have my word on that.”
“It’s good that she’s got him,” she said, her eyes glassy with emotion as she gave him a little smile. He took a step forward, wanting nothing more than to take her into his arms, tuck her up under his chin, and just hold her against the heavy beating of his heart. Comfort her, in whatever way that he could. But before he could reach her, they heard a key slide in
to the front door, and a second later Vivian’s mom walked into the house, shutting the door behind her. She was Vivian’s height, but without the athletic lines, her reed-thin body dressed in jeans and a sweater, her shoulder-length hair dyed a brittle shade of blonde that was dark at the roots.
“Mom,” Vivian said in a gentle voice, obviously trying not to spook the poor woman. But it didn’t work. Marcia Jackson jumped about a foot in the air as she spun around to face them, one hand pressed against her heart, while the other shot out in front of her, her blue eyes wide with shock as she looked between Max and her daughter.
“Vivian?” she whispered, slowly lowering her hand, her brows drawn in a confused frown. “God almighty, you nearly gave me a heart attack. What on earth are you doing here?” Her frown deepened, and before Vivian could answer her, she narrowed her eyes and said, “You look…different. What’s going on?”
Vivian gave the woman a tight smile as she moved to Max’s side. “Mom, this is Max Doucet. He’s…a friend of mine, and we came here because we need to ask you some questions. About Dad.”
Marcia’s mouth pressed into a thin, flat line. “What about him?”
“About what he…was.”
Panic clouded the woman’s gaze. “What does that even mean, Vivian?”
Quietly, she said, “I think you know.”
“I don’t,” her mother argued with a stubborn lift of her chin. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t discuss it.”
“Ma’am,” Max started to say, only to be cut off when Marcia gasped, her attention zeroing in on the ornate necklace hanging around her daughter’s neck.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, going deathly pale. “What are you doing with that thing on?”
Vivian touched the necklace with her fingertips, her tone hesitant as she said, “Wasn’t it for me?”
“No,” her mother snapped, her nostrils flaring as she pulled in a sharp breath. “It was your father’s.”
“Oh.” Vivian lowered her hand to her side, her fingers curling into a tight fist. “I… I don’t recall him ever wearing it.”
Marcia stepped a little deeper into the room. “He didn’t always. Only when he would travel.”
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