by Amy Pennza
Her knuckles around the tissue turned white. “I…” She licked her lips. “His father officiated the ceremony.”
That wasn’t unusual. As Alpha, Hamish was the most likely choice for presiding over matings—even more so since this one involved his son.
What was unusual was the absence of Sophie’s family. What kind of father let his only daughter get married surrounded by strangers?
Remy’s resolve to avoid touching her melted away. He brushed his fingertip over her knuckles, tracing the little bumps from one edge of her hand to the other. “You said your vows in front of the pack?”
“Yes…” She lowered her gaze to her hands. Her shoulders relaxed as he kept tracing her knuckles. “And we exchanged a small bite, just enough to draw blood for the ritual.”
He looked at her shoulder. The shirt had slipped again, revealing a pair of puncture marks. “That wasn’t the only time he bit you, sweetheart.”
“No,” she whispered.
A giant fist squeezed Remy’s heart. At the same time, his stomach threatened to revolt. How could he feel like puking even as he wanted to throw back his head and howl in fury? He swallowed against the nausea building in his throat. When the feeling faded, he cupped his palm over her hands. As painful as this was, he needed to hear it. He had to know every last detail, because Asher Benton wasn’t getting away with any of it. “When did the biting start, baby?”
“That night.” She drew a shuddering breath. “He was angry I wouldn’t finish the ritual.”
Which meant Asher had punished her for refusing to sleep with him. Most packs handled the spoken vow portion of the lux catena like a human wedding ceremony, with a party and toasts for the new couple. Some encouraged mates to complete the blood exchange in public, too, although it was just as common to save that for the bedroom.
But no pack required sex in front of an audience. According to Remy’s grandfather, it hadn’t always been that way. Werewolf lore told of ritual bedding ceremonies, much like the kind human historians described in medieval times. Unlike their human counterparts, however, werewolves had kept up the tradition until just a century or so ago.
Asher wouldn’t have demanded Sophie bed him in the middle of the mansion’s great room. But he would have expected her to sleep with him that night. Otherwise, their vows and blood exchange would have been meaningless. The chain had three links, and they had to be forged in quick succession. Max and Lizette were a perfect example. In a fit of jealousy, he’d bitten her years before they finally mated. Scared and confused, she’d bitten him back, forging a bond that wasn’t quite a bond. Later, when he summoned her back to the New York Territory, they had to say their vows and bite each other again to complete the lux catena.
Asher and Sophie might have spoken their vows, and there was no question they’d completed a blood exchange, but they never slept together.
That doesn’t mean he didn’t try. As soon as the thought entered his mind, rage pounded through Remy’s body. He lowered his head so Sophie wouldn’t see his eyes, which were no doubt flickering between human green and wolf blue. His jaws ached as the beast tried to break free of the mental restraints he’d imposed on it.
He stood and went to the kitchen. On the stove, a small blue flame leaped under one of the burners where he’d forgotten to shut it off. He’d been about to make pancakes when Sophie had appeared on the stairs. He turned the knob and stood there a moment, head lowered with his hands at his sides. His breath sawed in and out. Saliva pooled in his mouth as his fangs threatened to descend. His heart galloped inside his chest. The wolf hovered just under the surface, ready to tear free of its bindings.
Behind him, Sophie spoke. “Remy?”
He had to know, if only because he owed it to her to understand exactly what she’d been through. But he couldn’t bring himself to face her. So, like a coward, he kept his back to her when he asked, “Did he…” The wolf bucked, and Remy gritted his teeth as he pulled the beast back. He gulped air and tried again. “Did he…hurt you in…any other way?”
A beat passed, then Sophie replied in a low voice. “He never touched me.”
Relief flooded Remy’s veins—the surge so powerful it made him lightheaded. Asher still had to die, but at least now Remy didn’t have to tear him limb from limb. He turned just as Sophie wiped her eyes.
On second thought, the limb from limb thing is still on the table.
He went back to the dining room and sat. “What about your hip?”
A look flashed across her face—there and gone so fast he couldn’t be sure what it was. “What about it?” she asked.
“That was a terrible injury.”
“It’s fine.”
“Sophie, when I first saw you in the forest, I thought you were dead.”
“It was a truck. I…” She trailed off, then tugged the neckline of her shirt higher. The same look crossed her face, only this time it stuck around a bit longer.
She was nervous.
Remy forced himself to stay quiet. Years watching Max had taught him a thing or two about interrogation techniques. Most people couldn’t abide silence—especially when they did something wrong and knew they were caught. He’d seen Max stare down more than one trainee Hunter. Given enough time, they always talked.
After a second, Sophie sighed. “I tried to sneak into a gas station in wolf form.”
Shock jolted him upright. “You did what?”
“I know, I know. It’s forbidden. But I was starving, and I didn’t think anyone would see me. They did, though, and I ran.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Right into traffic.”
This needed to stay between them. Because if anyone found out she let humans see her in wolf form, she’d be punished. The circumstances didn’t matter. From a young age, wolves were trained to do whatever necessary to protect their species’ secrets. Werewolves were simply too big to pass as regular timber wolves—especially up close. In an age of smartphones and YouTube, even a single encounter could expose the entire race.
Remy leaned forward. “You said ‘they.’ How many humans saw you?”
“Three. An old man and a couple of teenagers. His grandkids, I think.”
Shit. “Did they see you shift?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I stayed in wolf form the whole time. I think I must have called out to you when I saw the truck coming at me.” She lifted one hand in a fluttering gesture. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. It was stupid to come to New York—”
“Whoa, whoa. You didn’t come here. Dom and I brought you.”
She shook her head. “I was headed here anyway. It was part of my plan.”
Everything clicked into place. Of course, she’d set out for the New York Territory. If Max granted her sanctuary, she’d be safe from Asher.
She’d be free, in every sense of the word.
“Let me get Max on the phone,” Remy said, standing.
Alarm leapt into her eyes. “What? Why?”
“To let him know you’re here. How else can he grant you sanctuary?”
She stood and gripped the edge of the table. “I don’t want that.”
Bemusement drifted through him. Was he missing something? “How do you expect us to keep you safe? You can’t stay here without sanctuary.”
“I know.” She released the table and squared her shoulders. “I have no intention of staying.”
6
This was the part she’d been dreading. Sophie’s gut clenched as a range of expressions crossed Remy’s features. There was shock, followed by disbelief, and what might have been a hint of anger. She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from apologizing.
As soon as the thought entered her head, anger surged in its wake. It had only taken two months of Asher’s conditioning for her to cower and backtrack anytime someone showed the slightest disapproval of her actions. She’d risked everything by running away. If she had any chance of making her plan work, she had to rediscover her spine.
Remy frow
ned as they faced off across the table. “What do you mean, you’re not staying? If you want to return to Pennsylvania—”
“I’m not going there, either. My father would just send me back to Asher.”
“Maybe I’m missing something here, but that leaves you with no place to go.”
She squeezed the table’s rounded edge. When she planned her escape, she had no intention of telling anyone where she was going. Of course, that was before she got hit by a freaking truck. A sigh built in her chest. Could she trust Remy?
I have no choice.
She took a breath and plunged ahead. “I planned to go south until I reached New York City and then find a way to get to Europe.”
Remy stared. For a second, it seemed like he was speechless. Then he said in a monotone, “You planned to just…find a way to Europe.”
Indignation swelled in her throat. He made her sound so stupid. “There aren’t any packs there—”
“Right,” he said, a snap in his voice. “Just a bunch of lone wolves fighting for individual territory. It’s the main reason our ancestors came to North America.”
“I know that.”
“Do you, Sophie? Do you really understand what you’d be facing?” His frown deepened. “When the humans drove us from the forests in the Old Country, and the pack structures began to fall apart, it was chaos.”
Another surge of anger made her cheeks heat. “I sat through the same history lessons as you—”
“Then you obviously didn’t pay much attention.” His mouth tightened. “I could be wrong, but I know of no mated pairs in Europe. The wolves there are loners by choice.”
“That suits me just fine. I want nothing to do with—”
“You wouldn’t have a choice.”
“I don’t think—”
“You’d be hunted.”
Her temper snapped. “Stop interrupting me!”
“Then think for a minute!” His voice boomed off the wooden rafters.
She ducked her head, but only for a second. He had no right to speak to her like this! She released the table and lifted her chin. “I’m already hunted. If I stay in this country, my father will never stop searching for me. At the first opportunity, he’ll drag me right back to Asher.”
Remy’s face softened, but his voice still held an edge. “Europe may sound good now, Sophie, but it’s not the paradise you’re envisioning.”
He was right, but what alternative did she have? She opened her mouth, ready to defend her decision, but he continued.
“Are you really prepared to fight off every lonely male you stumble across?”
She knew her smile was rueful. “I’ve never had to fight off a male in my life.”
Slowly, almost deliberately, he planted both palms flat on the table and leaned over them. Without warning, the smells of lemon and peppermint swirled, filling her lungs. Her knees loosened. How could it be that just the scent of this man affected her body like nothing else? What kind of powers did he possess?
His gaze was heated as he stared into her eyes. “Then maybe you just haven’t been paying attention, Sophie Gregory.”
There it was again—the spark of interest she’d seen when he spoke to her the day she traveled to Vermont. Except this time, he wasn’t just a bored womanizer killing some time.
Wasn’t he?
Clean lemon and sharp peppermint washed over her.
He leaned farther over the table, his height allowing him to get close to her. Green eyes burned into hers.
She held her breath. Under the thin cotton of her shirt, her nipples tightened. Her thoughts slowed. Hadn’t they just been shouting at each other? None of that seemed to matter now.
He lifted a hand and held it in the air for a second. Then, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, he brushed his palm down a fat curl that had fallen over her shoulder. “Stay in New York. You’re safe here.”
“I…can’t.” Good grief, was that her voice sounding breathy and weak?
“You can.” He toyed with the curved end of her hair, his fingers warm against her collarbone. “Max will grant you sanctuary. I know him better than just about anyone.”
It would be so easy to go along with whatever he said. With his bright green eyes boring into hers and his touch sending fireworks zipping from her shoulder to her scalp, it was hard to remember to breathe, let alone recall her reasons for leaving the territory as soon as possible. It was as if he’d woven a spell around them.
“Just say yes, Sophie,” he said.
The same line he used before.
Did it always work for him? Reality crashed in. Remy Arsenault would never hurt her body—she knew that in her core. But he was very capable of hurting everything else. She’d been a mediocre werewolf, a disappointing daughter, and an unwanted wife. She wasn’t about to add easy conquest to her string of titles.
She took a step back, and his hand fell away. The spell broke.
His eyebrows pulled together. “Sophie?”
The door leading to the outside was about twenty steps behind him. He was stronger, but she was faster—much faster.
And barefoot.
Also, her supplies were upstairs. If she had to make a run for it, she was going to be in far worse shape than when she left Asher’s compound.
Remy glanced over his shoulder, following her line of vision.
Shit. She’d telegraphed her next move. Why, oh why, hadn’t she paid attention when her father’s Hunters tried to teach her basic fighting skills?
Her heart sank. Her Gift was powerful, but it served her best out in the open. The cabin was full of obstacles, including the huge werewolf blocking her exit. Remy wasn’t going to let her leave. Hot tears stung her eyes. All her planning and secrecy had been for nothing. She’d escaped Asher just to fall into another trap. Maxime Simard might grant her sanctuary, but he’d have to notify every territory in the country that she was under his protection.
She might as well paint a giant target on her forehead.
“Hey,” Remy said, his voice gentle. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? I promise you’ll be safe—”
“No!” The word came out on a sob just as tears streaked down her face. She hugged her arms around her middle. “You don’t get it! Sanctuary won’t work. The second Max puts out the notice, my father will be pounding on his door.”
Remy raised an eyebrow. “I think you underestimate Max’s power.”
“No, I really don’t. But you underestimate just how determined my father is to make this alliance work.” In a flash, she saw the shadow of Asher’s feet under her bedroom door.
If she went back to Vermont, he’d see to it she never left again.
Panic clawed a jagged path through her gut. She squeezed her arms tighter as her throat closed.
Not here… Not here…
The tremors started in her shoulders and moved down her arms. She clenched her fists against her ribs. Don’t do this here. But it was no use pleading with the panic. It didn’t care how much she begged. As if from a distance, a familiar whooshing sound built in her ears.
Across the table, Remy’s gaze widened. He put up his hands palms out—a gesture someone might use to coax a wild animal.
She backed away. If she could just get upstairs, she could lock herself in the bedroom and fall apart in private. Remy didn’t need to know about her little problem.
“You’re having a panic attack,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.
The words cut through the rising noise in her head. She swallowed. There was no use denying it. “Y-yes.”
Palms still out, he moved sideways around the table. “Okay, chère. Everything is okay. You can stay here.”
“N-no.” She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” He stopped in front of her. “Deep breaths. In and out, yes?” He drew in an exaggerated breath, his chest rising, and then released it.
His accent had thickened, and it curved around her brain like a cozy blanket. At the same tim
e, the panic receded.
“Good,” he said. “Just focus on breathing.”
Following his lead, she inhaled a slow breath and blew it out. As fast as it came, the panic attack faded.
He lowered his hands. “Better?”
Actually…it was. Except now she had to die of mortification. Good grief, what must he think of her? In the space of a single conversation, she’d burst into tears, shouted, and almost suffered a panic attack. Maybe the floor would open up and just swallow her.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Nothing to be sorry for.” He leaned a hip on the table, which put him at her eye level. “I meant what I said. You can stay here, with me. I won’t tell Max.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “No sanctuary?”
“No sanctuary.”
“But…what made you change your mind?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I can’t have you running off into the woods barefoot the second I turn my back.”
“You said you’re not a mind reader.”
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “I don’t need to read your mind to know you were planning on kicking your Gift into high gear and getting out of here.”
“But…” What did this mean for him? Technically, she left Vermont without her Alpha’s permission. That made her a fugitive. “You could get in trouble for hiding me.”
“Let me worry about that.”
“I don’t think—”
“Sophie.” His voice was kind, but it held more than a hint of exasperation. “Are you always this stubborn?”
“I’m not stubborn.”
The other side of his mouth lifted.
She caught her breath. Before she could release it, he tapped her chin. “With the way this part of you shoots into the air whenever you’re riled, I beg to differ.”
He’d touched her with the lightest caress, but her skin tingled so much she had to fight the urge to rub it.
“I only have one condition,” he said.
Her mind stuttered to a stop, and heat flooded her cheeks.
“Let me get a Healer to treat those wounds.”