Wrath's Patience (Seven Deadly Sins Book 3)

by R. A. Pollard

  “Wolf, stop, I can’t.” He did not have to be told twice; he pulled back panting softly. His eyes were intense, flicking with blue flame. Layla licked her lips and brushed her thumb against his bottom lip.

  “I’m not saying never… I just can’t, not until Annabelle is okay with it. This is a package deal, and if you are going to vanish I would rather she not get attached. You can break me, but don’t break her heart.”

  He narrowed his eyes and cupped her face with his hands. “Listen to me, Layla. I know one thing from that one kiss—I know you are mine. If you are mine, so is she. There will be no force that will keep me from you or her.” The intensity in his voice almost made her sob. This was impossible. How could he already be burrowing into her heart? And why did it feel right?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  When her lips were on his, his mind was clear. Clarity finally coming to his tormented soul. He knew from one kiss that he would never kiss any other lips but hers. Through her he would remember, he would put names to the faces that hovered in his memory as fragments of truth. He would soon work out why that one name caused his brain to short circuit, and when he did he was going to hunt down the bastard who had done this to him. But standing here watching the soft bloom of rose color her cheeks he felt like he could face anything, even his unknown past.

  She stood nibbling on the side of her thumb, too caught in her own brain, and rightly so. In truth, he had not considered the child in all of this, a young female with gifts that rivaled—if not surpassed—the members of her family. Now that he had made his choice, it was easy to open the circle to allow her and the sister in. Even if the twin decided she was going to put a bullet in his head he would protect them anyway. He walked over to Layla and placed a hand on her back. She turned her gaze up to him.

  “You don’t know what you are saying. What if you’re married? Have a family? Don’t make promises that are impossible to keep right now.”

  “I’m not married, that I would know. I would feel it here…” He placed her hand over his heart. “It is tuned only to you. I knew it when you shocked me to my soul with your power.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. It hurt, you know.” She lifted her injured hand and gave him a smile.

  He reached up and took her hand in his. He would make it up to her somehow. Just knowing he had harmed her was a raw wound on his soul. Their peaceful interlude was shattered seconds later by the sound of a revving engine and honking horn. Layla frowned and headed to the door, throwing it open just as Lexi jumped out and ran around to pull Annabelle from the car. The scene before him sent every protective instinct within him on high alert.

  Layla’s world tilted in that second—the sight of her sister covered in blood and dust, her daughter limp with her eyes closed. Layla’s heart stopped, and she almost screamed as she ran down the steps toward them. Lexi was crying, her cheeks marred with streaked dust. She did not even hear Wolfman following behind her, but he moved like lightening and grabbed Lexi before she collapsed and lost the precious cargo she held.

  “What the hell happened?” His voice, tone, everything had changed from the teasing male he had been inside.

  “The bakery, someone hit ice, ran into it, so many dead bodies. I couldn’t help. I tried to save as many as I could, but it hurt so badly. Belle, she… I told her to stay in the car! She brought someone back, she brought back someone dead, Layla!”

  Sucking in air in desperation, Layla knelt beside her sister and took her limp daughter into her arms. She held her tightly to her chest and couldn’t breathe. It was as if the world had been sucked dry of air and she desperately needed just one more breath. It couldn’t be, her child could not be dead. Bringing back the dead always resulted in death—you couldn’t bring someone back like that. Lexi knew it, she had tried it, and despite all odds they had managed to start her heart again, but she had been dead for five minutes—five minutes of endless hell for Layla.

  She didn’t even realize she was screaming until she felt strong arms lift her and carry her into the house. Lexi didn’t even try and stop him. He set Layla on the couch and she refused to let her daughter go. Annabelle still felt warm. She could not be dead. Lexi sat in the armchair staring at nothing. Had the world just stopped?

  He ran his hands along Annabelle’s arms, a frown on his face. He could see inside her, and wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him, or if he had an actual ability. He followed that path and the child’s body lit up before him like a diagram of wires shimmering with energy.

  The child was not dead, her body buzzed with life. His eyes skimmed her form, focusing on a bright pulsing ball of light stuttering dark and coming back to brightness at the base of her skull. Her brain, however, was like a dim bulb, the bright light muted and dimming every second.

  He looked up at the female who, in a short period of time, had saved him from madness and given him reason to fight for his memories. Reaching out he touched her cheek, bringing her shimmering eyes to his.

  “Layla, she is not dead. There is energy buzzing in her body. There is a blockage at the base of her brain preventing her from waking. I am no healer. I can’t fix this.” His eyes turned to Lexi and she stood up, wringing her bloodied hands.

  “I’m sorry. I should have gotten to her quicker; I didn’t even know she had left the car. Layla, please forgive me.” He watched the sister look at her hands again. It was clear she had been suffering as well.

  “Let me fix this, I can fix this,” she kept saying over and over. Moving to her knees before the child, she reached for her. The powers of the healer were all over the place, her energy sparking about her like fireworks. He could see it in the air around them. Reaching out he placed his hand against her back.

  “Look for a small lump on the back of her neck. The energy flow is all wrong.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. “How do you know this?”

  “I can see it, I can see the energy flow in you, in her. Trust me, Lexi, I know it is difficult given what little you know about me, but trust me anyway.”

  He watched the play of energy from within the twin sister. She was clearly wary of him, but she nodded and closed her eyes, opening herself up and allowing him to show her the path. He made sure to redirect any errant energy away from her like a grounding rod so she could concentrate only on healing the child.

  “I can see it, the blockage of energy at the base of her skull. I need to be careful. If I open it too fast, I could cause more damage.”

  “Correct. Release it slowly, bleed the pressure off.” There was a risk of seizure if the dam holding back this child’s energy was released all at once.

  The world around him faded into nothing. He could feel a seemingly bottomless pool of calm within him. He reached for it, sending some of that energy to Lexi as she began to slowly unwind the ball of energy. Each thread caused the child to breathe a little deeper, to wince and whimper a little louder.

  “Mommy.” Finally, a soft voice broke through the silence. He opened his eyes to see Layla cradling her child, rocking her back and forth, tears streaming down her face. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lexi waver, and he slid an arm around her before she hit the floor.

  “Impressive, healer, very impressive.”

  Layla pulled the covers up over her sleeping daughter and sat beside her on the bed. Annabelle didn’t remember anything about the disaster at the bakery or what happened afterward. All she could remember was waking up in Layla’s arms and everyone being really worried about her. It was a miracle, pure and simple. How could she bring someone back that way and not have massive amounts of damage? Leaning down, Layla kissed her daughter’s forehead, squeezing her eyes closed tightly as tears burned her nose. Never again, her child was not going to be healing again, not until she could control her powers.

  She heard the door creak. Turning around she saw the huge form of her Wolfman standing there watching her. Layla stood and walked to the door, not wanting to leave her daughter but knowing s
he needed sleep. She held herself, feeling like the walls between them had been erected once again. But he just reached out and pulled her into his arms. She felt his strength seeping into her, and she buried her face against his chest.

  “Your sister is sleeping; her body is battered. It is a nasty backlash, isn’t it?”

  Layla nodded against his chest. He led her downstairs into the living room. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, and for a moment she felt like she could drop some of this endless weight on someone else.

  He sank down onto the couch and pulled her with him. The day had been draining, mentally and physically. Letting him take some of that burden seemed selfish, but he appeared willing to take it, even when he had his own issues hovering over his head.

  “I thought of a name for you.” Layla kept eyes closed and just enjoyed his strength for a few more moments.

  “Hmm, not Pewburt I hope?”

  The smile was weak but it was there. “No, not Pewburt. I had a dog growing up, he was large and protective and perfect. You remind me of him, he was called Satan.”

  He lifted his head and frowned at her. “You called your dog Satan?”

  “No, my father did, because he kept eating his shoes and peeing in his briefcase. He bit the mailman once and chased a bunch of bullies down the street after they hit Lexi. I called him Tan. He was wonderful. A giant German Shepherd.”

  “I would prefer not to be called Satan, but Tan I can do.” He stroked his hand down her back and she chuckled softly.

  “Okay, Tan, you now have a name.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  His hands were covered in blood. It ran up his arms in a splatter pattern, up and over his heaving chest and glistened in the firelight. He looked down, shaking. What had he done? His eyes scanned the room. A lifeless body lay across from him, once vibrant sapphire eyes now dull with death. Panic started in his stomach and rose quickly to his heart. Her body was covered in blood—Layla’s blood, he knew it from the scent. The air was thick with it, cloying and iron rich, drowning him in what he had done.

  Moving quickly to her side he picked her up in his arms and cradled her, pressing his face into her hair. Gods, had he done this? Like he had hurt those others, those he could not name? Pain pierced his skull and he grimaced, holding the lifeless body to him and rocking her softly. He wanted to roar, he wanted to cry, anything but this swamping rage that threatened his sanity.

  A sudden high-pitched scream rent the air and he turned, seeing the anguished face of the small child, Annabelle, as she stood watching him cradle her dead mother. He had never felt such abhorrent hatred for himself. He was disgusted by his own weakness, his inability to fight the darkness that hovered in his soul. Reaching for the child, he opened his mouth to speak—only a guttural roar emerged.

  She ran, terror in her pretty ice eyes, and he was stuck to the spot, blood pooling around him, drowning him in his curse. The scent of Layla’s life draining from her should have detested him, but it enticed the beast, making his stomach cramp in need. He needed to feed—there was meat.

  He cried out in revulsion, forcing the body away from him and stumbling to his feet. He would not turn her, he would not become the beast he was terrified of. Stumbling across the once pristine cabin he rushed from the room into the snow, leaving behind trails of red from his bloodied hands.

  Falling to his knees in the snow, he felt the cold seep into his bones for a moment before his body convulsed in pain. Heat emanated from him, melting the snow around him. His spine cracked and he tried to force it back. His muscles burned and tore, bones cracking and realigning. The beast was winning.

  He leaned over on his hands and knees feeling his teeth growing, sharpening into deadly points. It was too painful; he couldn’t fight the need to hunt and kill from his soul. Suddenly a cooling rush of air hit him and a name surfaced in his mind—Lucifer, his brother. He would never have given in, he would have fought for the last inch of sanity, holding on by the skin of his teeth until he had no choice but to give in.

  Pride, his brother, tried to grab hold of the memory but the thought was lost in a shattering rush of pain, and he felt like every nerve in his body was on fire. How could he fight against this? What chance did someone like him have? He was a demon after all.

  Layla opened her eyes, quickly getting her bearings and looking around the living room. The fire was a smoldering glowing ember in the hearth, and a chill had taken up residence in the air. The sudden tightening of a large arm around her made her sit up. Tan’s large body was twitching, the pain clearly etched on his face. She forgot the cold in her worry at the nightmare that now gripped him. Reaching out she touched his skin before pulling her hand back quickly. He was burning up again. Sweat glistened on his arms, and the t-shirt he wore was saturated—stuck to his chest as he panted, caught in his night terror.

  “Wolfman? Hey, wake up.” She covered his forehead with her hands and stroked down his face as his movements became jerkier, more violent. He was almost whimpering, his body tensing in obvious pain.

  Suddenly she was thrown from the couch as his back arched and his hands shifted into deadly claws. His mouth opened in a silent roar. She watched as his skin began to darken. The hair covering his arms grew as the change began to take hold within his dream.

  For a moment, she was stuck to the floor, watching this magnificent but terrifying power take hold of the man before her. How was she supposed to help him? She knew next to nothing about shifters—they were human enough that they didn’t have anything to do with her. If he turned inside the house it would be disastrous—he would be in beast mode, lost in the rage she felt when he attacked her the night before.

  The dim light caught something that stopped her heart—a tear rolled from his closed eye as his claws dug into the couch cushions and his body convulsed again. Spurred into action she moved quickly, straddling his hips and laying her weight down on his jerking body. She pressed her forehead to his, closed her eyes, and flung her powers out into him.

  It was like she hit a barrage of wildly rushing water; the torrent of raging rapids almost dragged her down, drowning her in the torn emotions of terror at the change, and the simultaneous craving to feel the freedom the change could bring. Determined not to let her mind be lost to the raging she reached for him, the man she had come to know, not the beast—she knew his scent, his touch, his kiss. The pressure of rushing water around her stopped suddenly and she sank through the depths.

  Layla found herself in foot-thick snow, watching the man changing into the beast before her eyes. Her breath misted on the air and she could feel the chill of winter on her skin. This dream or vision was so real it freaked her out—how powerful a hold it had on his senses. No wonder he was stuck here; he must believe it to be real. Hell, she almost believed it to be real.

  She moved quickly, ignoring the snow numbing her toes. Falling to her knees beside him she placed her hands on his back, feeling the muscles moving and bones cracking throughout his body. His head jerked up, his eyes devoid of reason, the pain clouding them. He reacted on instinct with a low growl. He pounced, forcing her back into the snow.

  She felt the cold seeping into her skin as her back hit the ground, his burning body over her, the low growl rumbling up her neck. His voice was guttural and low, a mix of human and beast.

  “You’re dead. I killed you. You can’t be here.” Agony filled his voice, and Layla felt her heart breaking for him. What thing had he done to deserve such torture?

  Instead of fighting back she went pliant under him, his hot breath brushing her neck and turning her insides to heat. Even with his sharp teeth an inch from her throat she didn’t fear him. Hell, she was some kind of mixed up, but with his hot breath and his body pinning hers, her mind could only think of the man, and it reacted as such. Lifting her hands, she stroked down his neck to his back, the beast-man trembling under her touch.

  “I’m right here, Wolfman. I’m not going anywhere.” Her voice surged through his bod
y, seeming to clear the pain and confusion—she watched clarity return to his eyes. A sob tore from him as he buried his nose against her neck and breathed in deeply, his clawed hands scraping at the ground around her head.

  “But I killed you, the blood, so much blood, so hungry.” He turned his head against her neck, his lips brushing the column of her throat. She near shattered right then, damn her and her neck weakness.

  Licking her dry lips, she turned her head to give him access. The beast paused and his breathing deepened, his pain appearing to lessen just from touching her. She could tell he needed more of her. He leaned in. sSoft sharp nips of those deadly teeth trailed up her neck as she gave him all she could.

  “I’m alive, Wolfman, I’m right here, warm and alive.” Layla continued to stroke down his neck and back. He arched to the touch, a small groan coming from him, not of pain but something just as primal.

  “Smell good…” His low tone made her whole body tense with awareness. She almost moaned from the tingling that rushed over her body. What was it about this male that called to every atom in her being, causing every sense and nerve to attune to him?

  She bit her lip as she sat up and ran her nose up his neck as he had done with her. The shadowy fur that covered his arms and chest seemed to have a life of its own as it curled around her. Layla breathed him in. God he smelt so good—wild open places and rain; she loved that smell.

  “So do you.” Hell, it was the truth. If she could bottle his scent she could make a fortune.

  The beast-man pulled back in confusion and looked at her. Layla could see the sanity returning to his eyes. She smiled and moved her hand to his face, stroking down over his cheeks. The tense pain erased from his features. He turned his cheek to her touch, the shadowy fur receding under his skin, leaving behind the man.