But Matthew was broken now. He had been beaten, taunted and starved, and his mind – the rational, human part of his self – was all but gone. Matthew was nothing more than an animal.
Marcus knew that he, too, was on the verge of going feral, and once that happened there would be no going back. There was a reason the Council for Shifter Affairs insisted on all shifters being registered with a pack. Once a wolf went feral, there was only one cure – a bullet to the head.
Not that Matthew would get that mercy.
The difference between them was anger. Marcus knew that when he finally turned altogether, he would go out in a blaze of snarling defiance. Maybe he’d even manage to take a few of his tormentors down with him – the men who had kidnapped him and who arranged the bouts of illegal fighting, and the baying jackals who placed million-dollar bets on the outcome. Their fat wallets and expensive suits didn’t hide the fact that they were savage beasts, so bored with their privileged, dilettante lifestyles that the only thing that could penetrate their ennui was to watch two living creatures tearing each other to pieces.
Matthew didn’t have that same anger. Just as one kicked dog will bite while another will cower, Matthew had succumbed to a paralyzing fear that meant he no longer displayed the fighting spirit that entertained the crowds. His growl had been that of a trembling cur, not one of aggression.
He wouldn’t be winning any more fights. The next time he was dragged into the ring, Matthew would die. And the men who ran the fights thrived on the pain and misery of their playthings. Matthew would lose the fight, his lifeblood sinking into the sawdust in great red-black gouts, but if those monsters could cause pain to his killer as well, they would relish the opportunity to do so.
That was how Marcus knew he would be the one sent into the ring with his one-time friend to end his life.
Marcus shook himself, hard.
Hang on, hang on…
Seeking solace, he glanced in the direction of his cabin again. And he saw smoke. A lot of smoke. Suddenly, penetrating through the haze of his memory, he realized that shifters were running past him, towards his cabin.
Eileen.
He dropped his ax and ran.
* * * * *
“Huh,” Erika mused, looking at the remains of Marcus’ cabin. The smell of smoke filled the air, but a good soaking from the pack’s fire truck had extinguished the blaze. The cabin was a blackened shell now; half of it had collapsed in on itself. “First time I tried to cook, the same thing happened. Good thing Leland doesn’t care that I can’t cook.”
“You’re just trying to make me feel better.” Eileen wiped tears from her cheek with the back of her hand.
“No, trust me, you do not want to let Erika in, or near, a kitchen,” Chelsea told her.
“You burned your house down?” Eileen said doubtfully.
“Well, my dad was home, so I only burned down part of the kitchen. Oh, there’s Marcus.”
“Oh, dear God.” She glanced nervously at the house. “It was nice knowing both of you.”
Marcus stalked towards them and glanced at the house.
“I tried to cook dinner for you,” Eileen said mournfully when he got there. “I was trying to be useful.”
He scowled at the cabin and then at her. “You all right?” he asked after a minute.
“I’m not injured or anything. I’m just completely, totally, useless to everyone.”
“No, you aren’t! Don’t say that.” Chelsea patted her arm. That was nice of her to say, but of course she’d say that. What was she supposed to do, admit the truth? Admit that Eileen was nothing but a shiny ornament, and that if she vanished, nobody would even notice?
Then Eileen looked at Marcus. He was stripped to the waist, and wood chips clung to his jeans and boots. “Where did you come from?”
“Chopping wood.”
“When did you get home from work?”
“Four hours ago.”
She stared at him. “You got here four hours ago and couldn’t even be bothered to tell me you were back or say hello to me?”
Marcus hesitated. “Uh…”
A rush of sorrow and humiliation swept over her, and she swallowed a sob. “You know what? I am done here. Forget the stupid road. Forget this fake mating. I am leaving here now, before I accidentally burn your entire forest down.”
Eileen ran to her car, with hot, angry tears running down her face.
“Eileen, don’t leave!” Chelsea yelled. “Eileen! Don’t make a pregnant woman chase you! Marcus, damn it, go get her and apologize, you big jerk!”
“Eileen! Wait!” Marcus shouted after her, sprinting towards the car.
She ignored them both and slammed her car door, and drove off with an angry screech of tires.
Chapter Fourteen
“Is there such thing as a quintuple tequila shot?” Eileen asked the bartender. She was sitting at a bar called Dudley’s Tavern in downtown Silver Peak. It was newly opened, by one of the families who’d discovered mineral springs on their property. A human family, she’d heard. That was unusual in a shifter town. The tavern was decorated in nineteenth- century saloon style, complete with a brass rail along the bar, a piano and decorative spittoons.
The owner of the bar, a pretty, petite blonde human who’d introduced herself as Joyce Dudley Richards, looked at her skeptically. “Yes, there is. And I’m not giving it to you. You weigh about a buck ten soaking wet. And you came here alone. I don’t want you to leave alone and wrap yourself around a tree. You get one tequila shot, and I’m keeping an eye on you.”
“Fine.” Eileen resisted muttering “Mom” under her breath. She accepted the tequila shot and slammed it, feeling the warmth as it burned down her throat. Joyce set down a glass of ice water next to it, and Eileen sat there disconsolately, sipping the water and wishing she could find it in herself to hate Marcus. It would be so much easier if she hated him.
She wearily rubbed her face with her hands. Where would she sleep tonight?
Where would she go tomorrow?
Well, for now the bar was warm and welcoming and the jukebox was playing a sad country song that suited her mood exactly.
Joyce moved swiftly from one end of the bar to the other, dealing out drinks like cards from a deck, smiling and chatting with customers, vanishing behind the counter into the back for a bit, then returning.
She came back to Eileen’s end of the bar.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Relatively speaking,” Eileen said. “I mean, I’m young. I’ve got my health. I’m not living in a Taliban-occupied country.”
Joyce grabbed a bottle from behind the bar, opened it and took a sip.
“Well, at least you’ve got perspective,” Joyce said, tipping the bottle back again.
As she drank, Eileen noticed the rounded swell of her belly and the Mate Mark on her neck.
Joyce patted her stomach. “Don’t worry, alcohol is for the customers only. I’m strictly drinking mineral water. Are you that new girl, Eileen, who’s mated with Marcus? My mate Paul was part of the Kincaid Pack, but now he’s the sheriff of Silver Peak, so he joined their pack.” That would explain why she’d opened up her business in shifter territory.
“Oh, congratulations!” Eileen said, trying to summon up genuine happiness for her despite her own misery. She wanted to ask her about Marcus. Why was he like that? Why did he hate everybody? Why did he hate himself?
“Thanks! If you need anything, you just let me know.”
Eileen nodded, and sighed as Joyce bustled off to serve another customer.
She’d left behind all her clothing at Marcus’ cabin when she’d stormed off in a huff. Of course, her clothing might have been destroyed by smoke, fire or water, for all she knew, and most of it was inappropriate for Silver Peak anyway.
Should she go back and get it? She stared into the bottom of her glass.
“There you are!” It was Valerie, the secretary who worked for Mr. Rosemont. She plopped down in the se
at next to her. “Hope you haven’t had a day like mine.”
Eileen managed a rueful laugh. “Oh, I really, really doubt that.”
“Why do you smell like smoke?”
“Don’t ask.” Eileen licked the rest of the salt off her tequila glass.
Sorry, Mother, she apologized silently. All those etiquette classes gone to waste.
“Listen, I wanted to let you know, Mr. Rosemont said that he would offer you a paid internship. Our internships don’t pay a lot – they start at twenty-four thousand dollars a year – but it’s a good way to get your foot in the door. We need someone to write website and blog copy for us.”
Eileen felt a flare of hope. “He wants to offer me a paid internship? But…he said he only wanted people with experience. And he hasn’t even interviewed me.” She looked at her empty tequila glass. “And he mocked my outfit.”
“He does that kind of thing a lot. No tact whatsoever. I’m not saying it’s a dream job. And basically, I found out who you are and manipulated him into offering you the job because of who your father is.”
And just like that, the flare was extinguished. “He’d be hiring me as a favor to my father.”
Valerie threw her head back and laughed. “He’d be doing it because he hates your father’s guts. Purely out of spite.”
Well, that was flattering. Not.
“Valerie, I really, really appreciate it, but I’m actually headed out of town,” she said.
Valerie nodded. “Also my boss is a rude, insulting douche, so I understand why you might not want to work for him. Well, I wish you luck wherever you end up.”
Eileen left a twenty on the bar and headed out to the parking lot. She was almost at her car when a dark figure burst out from behind a minivan with darkened windows. She jumped back with a shriek, then stared in dismay.
Beacham Haversham. Wearing khakis with a knife-pleat, loafers and a lime-green cable-knit sweater.
“What are you doing here?” she said. “You nearly gave me a damned heart attack.”
He looked her up and down. “Why do you smell like smoke?” he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
She stared at him. “Someone annoyed me and I set them on fire.”
He just looked at her. “Is that a joke? I don’t get it.”
She was in no mood to deal with his condescending attitude right now. “Move, and let me get in my car, or you will get it. Trust me.”
“I don’t think so.” He leaned against her car door and gestured at the minivan. “We’re leaving now. I am prepared to forgive you for this embarrassing act of indiscretion – which, by the way, has been covered by all the newspapers.”
Ugh. Her fake marriage was in all the papers – and it was already over.
“No need for forgiveness. You should hold a grudge. Forever,” she said, and started to walk around the car to get to the passenger door. He moved fast, blocking her.
His eyes gleamed with anger. “I already announced our wedding. If we don’t marry, everyone will think that Beacham Haversham has been rejected. Nobody rejects Beacham Haversham.”
“Oh my God, I forgot how much it annoys Eileen Pennyroyal when Beacham Haversham refers to himself in the third person.”
“What? You’re not even making sense right now. Clearly this thin mountain air is making you light-headed. I’m taking you with me, and we will be married first thing tomorrow on my estate, and then you will remain on my estate with me until you come to your senses.”
“My father won’t let you kidnap me,” she said uneasily, taking a step back.
He shook his head chidingly. “Your father sent me here. This is for your own good, Eileen.”
She turned and tried to run.
His arm shot out and he grabbed her arm, painfully tight.
“Let go of me! Let go of me!” she screamed.
He began dragging her towards his van in a determined grip. He grabbed the van door and flung it open. Terror flared up inside her.
Nobody would come looking for her. She’d already told Marcus she was leaving him, and the pack. They would just think she’d returned home to marry this psycho.
“I said let go!” she screamed at the top of her longs.
“Nobody’s coming to help you, Eileen,” he said in an annoyed tone. It was true, she realized, and despair washed over her.
Chapter Fifteen
As Beacham’s grip tightened even harder on her arm, Marcus’ voice sounded in her head.
“Why didn’t you just shift?”
She hesitated for just a second. Turn into an animal? Here in public? It went against everything she’d been taught. It went against her upbringing. After she shifted, she’d be naked.
Then Beacham started pushing her into the back seat, and she let out a growl of rage and let her wolf burst forth.
Fur shot through her skin and her snout lengthened. Her clothing fell away, and she felt her bones melting and reforming. She lunged at Beacham in a rage and sank her fangs into his arm until he let go of her. He shrieked and fell back, staring at his bloodied arm in shock.
“You bit me!” he shouted, his voice shrill. “Like a dog! You bit me!”
Then fur started rippling on his face and he let out a low, animal growl. His face melted into a wolf’s, black lips curled back, saliva drooling from his jaw.
He was shaking with rage. He’d go wolf in a minute. He’d overpower her.
From across the parking lot, she heard a howl of fury. Marcus, in wolf form, as big as a small horse. Beacham saw him loping towards them and let out a high-pitched cry of fear.
He leaped into his van and screeched out of the parking lot, peeling out so fast he left a trail of burned rubber behind him.
Marcus reached her just as she turned human again.
He turned human too, his fur melting back into his skin, and then he was crouching in the parking lot. He stood up, glaring after the retreating van.
“How did you find me?” she asked, in tears.
His gaze seemed to swim back into focus, and he turned to look at her. “Small town. Everybody is in everybody’s business. Joyce called up Chelsea to yell at her that you seemed upset and I probably hurt your feelings.”
“Oh. And you came for me.”
“Of course I came. Did he hurt you?” His hands were balled into fists. Fur rippled in waves across his naked body, sinking under his skin and bursting out again.
“No.” She swallowed a sob. “He was going to drag me away with him. Force me to marry him.”
He shook his head vigorously. “I will never let that happen.” Then he glanced across the street. “What are they doing here?”
She followed his gaze and realized that Marisol and Ambrose were standing there.
Watching.
Fury boiled up in her.
She stalked across the street, stark naked, with Marcus following at her heels.
“Eileen, really. Your behavior is completely unacceptable,” Marisol said, raking her with a severe look. “You are naked, young lady. Your mother would be—”
“Don’t you dare even mention her, or I will chew your face off. My mother wanted me to marry for love. You knew Beacham was there? You watched him try to kidnap me, and did nothing?” she yelled at them.
“We saw you go into the bar, and told him where you were so he could get you out of this horrible place. It was for your own good,” Marisol said in her soothing voice. “You haven’t been yourself since the day you got here.”
Marcus’ wolf came exploding out of him, and he lunged at her, knocking her against the wall. As he stood over her, snarling and snapping, Marisol shrieked and whimpered, crying out, “It was for her own good! Her own good!” over and over.
Ambrose let out a high-pitched scream and cringed away from Marcus. At the same time, a patrol car pulled up, lights flashing. It said “Sheriff” on the side.
“Everything’s fine!” Ambrose told the sheriff quickly as he climbed out of his car.
“Doesn’t look fine,” the sheriff said. Eileen remembered that she was naked and did her best to cover herself with her hands, although the sheriff was only looking at her face.
“No, it isn’t fine,” Eileen said angrily. “My ex-fiancé tried to kidnap me, and these two set the whole thing up. His name is Beacham Haversham. He’s driving a maroon minivan with darkened windows and heading north on Main Street. I want to press charges.”
Marisol gasped in outrage. “You can’t arrest him,” she informed the sheriff. “He’s a Haversham.”
“He’s a what?” He stared at her in annoyance. “I don’t give a damn what he is. Kidnapping’s a crime here.”
Marcus turned human again and rose to his feet. His eyes had that crazy light.
“You two deliver a message for me,” Marcus said to Ambrose and Marisol. “To her father. And to that prissy little city Chihuahua Haversham. Any of you try to take her again, I will find you, and I will end you. I don’t care about the consequences. You’ll drown in your own blood, and so will whoever tries to come after her.”
“He’s threatening us!” Marisol wailed at the sheriff. “You heard him, he just threatened us!”
The sheriff nodded. “Yep. Welcome to Silver Peak. That’s the kind of thing that tends to happen around here when you try to kidnap someone’s mate.”
Chapter Sixteen
Eileen sat up in bed, staring at her sleeping husband. Or mate.
After the sheriff had showed up the night before, someone had found her a T-shirt, and she had filled out a complaint. Beacham had been tracked down driving at a hundred and twenty miles an hour as he tried to flee the area; they’d added speeding and reckless endangerment to the attempted kidnapping charges. Ambrose and Marisol had been arrested and charged as accessories.
She’d also filled out a restraining order against all three of them. She knew this was going to be the talk of their social set tomorrow, and her father would be humiliated and furious. Talk about burning bridges.
Shifters of Silver Peak: Mate For A Month Page 8