“Doesn’t it?” The question wasn’t accusatory or angry. Instead, it was tinged with disappointment.
Mae struggled to breathe as he stared down at her. The anger in his eyes should have terrified her, but she knew it was only a mask, hiding wounds far deeper than the scars that marred his face.
“Please,” she pleaded. He had to understand, to let her explain.
He shook his head. “You Grey Wolves are all the same. A rogue’s only good enough as long as they’re useful to you. The rest of the time, we’re no better than the dirt beneath your boots.” He turned away from her.
“Rogue—”
She reached for him.
He growled in warning. “Don’t.” He stepped away from her. “You’ve had your pleasure, Princess. Let’s not pretend it will ever be more than that.”
Was he right? Did she think he was beneath her? She’d never thought about it like that until he’d said it. He climbed down the hayloft stairs, leaving her standing there, naked and full of anger—at him, at herself.
Because deep down, she feared he might be right…
* * *
Rogue tore from the hayloft like a bat out of hell, only pausing long enough to leave the truck keys sitting on the hood. Forget the bales of hay. He didn’t care if the rains soaked them to the point of ruin. If needed, he’d purchase hay come winter. At the moment, he needed to get the hell away from the loft, away from the scent of berries on her skin, the taste of her sweet sex against his tongue, and the memories that threatened to destroy him.
He’d known bringing her here would conjure up memories he’d rather keep buried, but he’d been willing to make that sacrifice. Yet he’d never expected it to be like this. He’d never anticipated being near her would hurt so much he could barely stand it. Every waking moment, he ached for her, wishing for what had once been. Even in his dreams, he couldn’t escape her. She came to him each night, the ghost of their past, and in his dreams, he didn’t need to lie, to pretend he was only the dark wolf that the world had shaped him to be. He could just be with her—scars, broken past, and all—and that would be enough.
But in the waking hours, when she still didn’t know who he was, it was never enough. Having her in his arms, kissing her, making her writhe beneath him. None of it would ever be enough.
Rogue shifted into his wolf, running back toward the house until his legs burned with the exertion. When he arrived, he went straight to his room and showered, hoping to wash the scent of her from his skin, but it was no use. Once he was clean and clothed again, he made his way down to his personal bar in the library. He’d forgo the cup in favor of the bottle. It was in his armchair, legs slung over the armrest as he gripped the bottle neck, that Murtagh found him.
“What the bloody hell happened to you?”
Without casting a glance toward Murtagh, Rogue turned away. He gripped the neck of the bottle, tilting it to his lips. The fiery liquid burned down his throat.
“Ach, Christ. Doona tell me she still doesna know. I thought ye might ’ave told her.”
“No, she doesn’t and she won’t.”
“She’s far tougher than ye think. I can say that fer certain now that I know the lass. She can handle it.”
Rogue shook his head. Mae was one of the strongest women he knew. She was resilient, intelligent, kind beyond reason, but even she had her limits. “No. It would destroy her.”
Murtagh growled. “And ye think yer betrayal won’t?”
Rogue refused to answer. They wouldn’t agree on this.
“When she finds out who ye really are, that ye’ve been using ’er to get yer revenge, that’ll do her in, ye ken?”
Rogue sloshed the amber whiskey around in the bottle, watching its surface quiver. He was quickly losing patience with Murtagh. “She’s already lost me once. What’s a second time?”
“And ye would put her through that again?”
“What choice do I have?” Rogue slammed the whiskey bottle down on the table beside him. Glass echoed against wood with a resounding thud. “She’s already been taken advantage of by her family. Her uncle should have loved her, protected her, but instead he used her as he pleased. Now, twenty years later, you expect me to tell her how her father betrayed her? How he used her pain as an excuse to cast my family from the pack and steal the throne, all for her beast of a brother?” Rogue stood. He was shaking his head. “I might as well tell her that her whole life is a lie. I won’t violate her like that. I won’t take away her remaining happiness.”
Not even as the lie destroyed him…
“And when ye have the antidote? When ye announce yerself and ye force her to turn against her own brother in exchange fer her pack’s safety? Ye think that willna destroy her? She’ll realize the truth then, about you and the lies her family told.”
Rogue stepped around Murtagh, heading to his desk where he kept the ranch’s files, the ledger. “The responsibility for that will land solely on my shoulders. She may be angry with her brother for his role, but it’s me she’ll hate. His misguided transgressions will pale in comparison. Then at least the truth won’t cause her to become estranged from the only member of her family she has left.”
Murtagh was shaking his head at him. “Nae, she’ll only lose the man she loves.”
“The boy she loved,” Rogue corrected. “And she already lost him a long time ago.” He started to shuffle the papers on his desk, hoping Murtagh took that as a dismissal, but he didn’t. The Highlander wasn’t going to give this up.
Rogue braced himself against the desk, staring down at the paper there as he refused to look at Murtagh. “I have a chance to regain my father’s legacy, make life for our kind better, and avenge Cassidy’s death all at once. I can’t miss out on this chance. Not when everything we’ve worked for is at stake.”
Not when the promise he’d made her hung in the balance.
“And when this is all said and done? When the dust settles?” In his peripheral vision, Rogue saw his friend draw closer. Murtagh’s voice softened. “Ye may not be my blood, Jared, but I’ve come to know a wee bit about ye. And losin’ that woman again will ruin ye.”
Rogue had no doubt Murtagh was right.
“If that’s what it takes, so be it.”
Murtagh waved a hand as if Rogue were a hopeless cause. “Yer as stubborn as a damn mule and twice as ornery,” he grumbled. He turned to leave, but he paused by the doorway. He drew in a sharp breath. “Cassidy would hate to see it, ye ken? He knew ye loved that girl more than the very air in yer lungs.”
Rogue released a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what love is anymore, Murtagh. I haven’t for a long time.”
Murtagh shook his head. “Tell that to some toff who’ll believe ye, because I doona think that to be true fer a second.” He gripped the doorframe. “Yer a fool. A damn lovesick fool, and it’s no one’s doing but yer own.” Murtagh started to leave but was nearly mowed down by a frantic female rancher.
Rogue glanced up. Daisy stood in the doorway, ruddy in the face and struggling for breath as if she’d just run a marathon. Daisy’s eyes turned toward him. “Vampires,” she panted. “On the ranch. They got through the guards.”
Every muscle in Rogue’s body tensed. He’d known the cougar had sold them out, but he hadn’t anticipated the information would spread this soon.
“The children?” he and Murtagh asked in unison.
Daisy placed a hand to her chest. “Everyone’s here, safe in the house, except—”
Rogue darted from the desk, knocking over the side table and the whiskey bottle in his path. The glass shattered across the marble floor, liquid gushing from the remains, but Rogue paid no attention. The next thing he knew, he was running.
Mae.
His pulse pounded in his ears as he raced toward the barn. He had to get to her, had to find her.
Before they
do…
* * *
He was wrong. Mae knew that now without a doubt. She’d sat in the hayloft for the past two hours with her sketchbook, working on her graphite rendering and listening to the gentle whooshing sounds of the evening rain. Night had long since fallen, yet she drew by the dim light of the barn lamps. The dark gray of the graphite pencils stained her fingers from where she’d smudged and shaded sections of the image. Aside from the rain, the occasional rustling of hay, or a long moo from the cows, silence was her only company. Tucker had taken up residence in one of the empty stalls below and fallen asleep.
May glanced out the cracked barn doors to the truck. She’d considered heading back to the house more than once, but she wasn’t ready to face Rogue yet. The pain in his eyes haunted her, but now that she’d mulled it over, she recognized how wrong he was. She wasn’t ashamed of him. No more than he was of her, and it wasn’t her fault that they came from different worlds. Sure, her initial attraction to him had been to his dark persona, but that had changed the moment he’d risked his life to save her, and now that she knew the kindness in so many of his actions, it only further cemented how she felt. There was more to him than his rough image. She knew that now, and she wanted to know more.
If only he would let her in…
She needed to find a way to show him that. She contemplated this, her pencil scratching across the paper like a form of meditation until the sound of the barn door creaked open. She was about to call out to see who was there when the sickly sweet smell of death hit her nose.
Mae froze. Her whole body tensed as the scent of vampire carried to her on the breeze.
They’d come for her.
With tentative movements, Mae lowered herself flat against the hayloft floor. From where she was sitting, they likely couldn’t see her above them, and the longer she stayed hidden, the better. She’d need to formulate an escape plan. The sounds of two voices drifted from the stall row below.
“She’s got to be in here. I smelled her scent in the truck cab.”
The sound of one of the stalls slamming open caused several of the cattle to moo. The vampire released a menacing hiss.
“I don’t smell wet dog,” another answered. “Just cow shit.”
The first hissed. “Trust me. She’s here.”
Mae stiffened. Their exchange was followed by the sound of more stall gates being kicked open. Supplies from shelves hit the floor. The cows started mooing in distress at the racket, and Mae heard a disgruntled oink from Tucker. Thank God the little teacup pig couldn’t climb ladders, or she had a feeling he would have given her away by now.
Lowering herself onto her belly, she army crawled to the loft edge. The vampires were tearing apart the barn below in search of her. Shelves of bottles and milk replacer for calving season were scattered across the floor along with shovels and pitchforks. Black Hollow’s barn was a sizable space, but it wouldn’t be long before they ran out of options and checked the loft.
Easing away from the edge, Mae shifted into wolf form. Fur sprouted, and muscles and limbs twisted until her gray wolf emerged. The nasty scent of the bloodsuckers hit her nose twice as strong in wolf form, and she covered her muzzle with her paw. She’d need to catch them by surprise. If she could do that, she could fight her way free and make a run for it.
Mae crept on her belly toward the edge of the hayloft again, golden wolf eyes peering down. In wolf form, her senses heightened, making her aware of the vamps’ every move.
“She’s not here,” one of the bloodsuckers grumbled.
“Check the hayloft,” the other ordered, red eyes flashing.
The hairs on Mae’s haunches rose on end as she pulled away from the edge. Her fur prickled, and adrenaline coursed through her. She’d missed her chance. Footsteps clapped toward the hayloft ladder, but a sharp pop of gunfire rang in the distance, cutting the sound short.
“What the fuck was that?” one of the bloodsuckers growled, distracted.
It was now or never.
Mae launched herself from the edge of the hayloft with a menacing growl, landing on top of one of the vamps. Her jaws snapped, teeth ripping and tearing into deadened vamp flesh. The vampire let out a shrieking hiss. But with surprise on her side, Mae sank her canines into the vampire’s jugular, filling her mouth with a nasty iron taste. She ripped her muzzle back, taking out the vampire by its throat.
Blood dripped from her muzzle as she faced her other enemy.
One down, one to go. Maverick’s voice echoed in her head, making her brave, giving her strength. But Mae didn’t have more than a second to take pride in her kill before several other bloodsuckers rushed into the barn.
She snarled, warning them back, but it was no use. A whole army of them had flooded the ranch. All with one goal: to kill her.
She was surrounded on all sides. The vampires closed in, their circle around her shrinking by the second.
One near the entrance, likely one of the eldest, bared its sharp fangs and hissed. “You’ll pay for that, you mangy bit—”
The vampire choked on its words, red eyes darting toward its chest, where a stake had pierced it from behind. It crumpled to the ground, exploding in a heap of blood.
Rogue stood where the bloodsucker had been seconds before. Blood dripped from his face, his expression so calm it was chilling. He clutched a lacquered wooden stake in his hand as his men stood beside him, marking him as the leader of the drove of wolves at his back. The tension in the air crackled as his icy blue gaze met Mae’s.
“Run,” he growled.
All hell broke loose. The inside of the barn erupted in battle fury. Several vamps dove for Mae at once, but they were met by Boone and Yuri. Rogue’s men shifted into wolf form, meeting the vampires blow for blow as they stood guard over her. They protected her as if she were one of their own, fighting the vampires without hesitation.
With her back covered, Mae turned tail to run, but in her peripheral, she caught sight of Rogue. He was battling two bloodsuckers, looking as feral and lethal as that first night in her bedroom. He didn’t need to shift into wolf form; his fists were a weapon all their own. The obsidian of his rings glinted in the dim overhead lights as he drove his stake into one of the bloodsuckers’ hearts, but that was when Mae saw another emerge from the other side of the barn, headed straight for Rogue’s turned back.
Mae didn’t think. She darted through the melee, diving under and over the raging battles as she headed straight for the bloodsucker. She leaped. Her paws connected with the bloodsucker’s chest, knocking it backward, but it lashed out, fangs sinking into the flesh of her shoulder.
A yelp tore from her throat.
She fell to the ground. Upon impact, she shifted into human form. Pain seared through her. It wasn’t enough to maim, but blood poured down her bare shoulder all the same. It still hurt.
At the sight of her, Rogue moved on the offending vampire. In an instant, he caught the bloodsucker by the throat, lifting it with a single arm. His biceps strained and several veins on his forearm pulsed. The rage in his face shook her.
“No one lays a hand on her,” he snarled. His arm shook with exertion as he slowly crushed the vampire’s trachea with his bare hands.
Mae could barely handle the sight. With blood spattered across his scarred face and fury burning in his eyes, he looked every bit the lethal monster his reputation painted him to be.
But he’d killed for her.
Once again.
The vampire crumpled to the ground. It hadn’t met its true death. Vampires could only be killed by a stake or decapitation, but the bloodsucker was close to it—helpless and maimed. If left alone, it would take days to heal. Rogue stabbed his stake into its chest, finishing it off once and for all. Howls from Boone and Yuri drew their attention. Another onslaught of vamps had arrived. Even with Rogue’s men who guarded the ranch, they were outnumbered f
ive to one.
Rogue’s gaze flicked toward her, his golden wolf eyes taking in her wound. His nostrils flared. “Protect her,” he growled. “With your life.” He turned back toward the melee, shifting into wolf form.
Mae wasn’t sure whom he’d spoken to until a large hand gripped her by the arm. She snarled, prepared to shift again, only to realize it was Sterling tugging her out of the barn.
His dark features were deadly serious. “Come with me.” The deep timbre of his voice rumbled through her. Without warning, he scooped her in his arms.
Mae shook her head, struggling against him. “No. I can’t leave him. He—”
“You can and you will, Mae,” Sterling ordered. He carried her through the darkness with swift, predatory speed. The sounds of battle echoed throughout the ranch. When they reached the cover of the trees, Murtagh waited for them, perched in Bee’s saddle.
Despite her protests, Sterling lifted Mae onto the horse.
“Murtagh,” she pleaded. “They have him outnumbered. I have to go back. I have to—”
The Scot shook his head. “Nae, lass.” He wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. She’d been so focused on the battle that she hadn’t thought twice about her nudity after shifting. “The only thing worse to him than death would be seeing ye hurt.”
She wasn’t certain she believed that, but she didn’t have time to protest. Murtagh kicked Bee into motion. The horse shot forward, carrying them into the cover of the mountains. The battle sounds of the vampires attacking her newfound friends and the man who’d risked his life for her—more than once—raged in the distance. Pain throbbed through Mae’s shoulder. She held on to the horn of Bee’s saddle as she gripped the blanket around her shoulders.
All she could do now was hope they made it out alive.
Chapter 18
Rogue’s limbs ached and his temple throbbed as he rode through the darkened mountain paths. The moon shone overhead as his horse climbed the beaten trail, heading to where he knew Murtagh would have set up camp and guarded the children.
Wicked Cowboy Wolf Page 22