The only part that sucked was that he hadn’t been there with them. That he’d missed each of the milestones that had marked the passage of time in their lives. Hell, the simple fact that all the Runners, with the exception of Max and Elliot, had kids now would be something that took time for him to wrap his head around. Before Mason had found Torrance nearly six years ago, Cian had never imagined the group would all be settled down and doing their best to add to the pack’s growing population.
Before they ended the meeting, they talked over the Alley’s security issues, and Jeremy assured him that extra patrols were already in progress. If Aedan wanted to get to Sayre, it wouldn’t be easy for the vampire, and that was what Cian needed. A way to slow down the bastard so that he could deal with him one-on-one, while the others got Sayre the hell away from him.
When Kyle asked if he wanted a tour of the security procedures they had in place, Cian took him up on it, and he said a somewhat awkward goodbye to the others before heading out. There wasn’t any sign of Sayre as he walked across the sunlit glade, and it worried him, how desperately he wanted even the tiniest glimpse of her—so he told himself it was good that he was getting away for a bit and putting some space between them. He and Kyle left the Alley in the merc’s Jeep, and headed for Shadow Peak, to the security headquarters that the Runners ran there. They grabbed lunch while up in town, his presence at the diner drawing more than a few curious stares, and he knew that news of his return would have spread like wildfire before the end of the day. Not that he cared. The few remaining relatives he’d had in the town had moved away years ago, and there was no one else he would have wanted to catch up with, aside from some of the Runners’ parents. But he figured he could pay them visits after this shit with Aedan was over, before he took off again.
After lunch, he and Kyle headed back down the mountain, leaving the Jeep at one of the new security outposts that had been built out in the forest. From there, they spent hours walking most of the security routes on foot, then grabbed the Jeep and made their way back.
By the time he and Kyle, who had been surprisingly easy to get along with, were parting ways, the evening sun was already setting behind the trees, and Cian was bordering on desperate to see Sayre again. He wasn’t so naive that he thought she wouldn’t have heard about the meeting that had taken place that morning, and didn’t doubt that she’d demand to know what he and the others had talked about. And when he refused to tell her, she would definitely be pissed at him. But it didn’t matter. He still wanted—and maybe even needed—to be close to her. To see her. Breathe her in. Soak her into his memory so that he’d have a full reservoir to pull from when this nightmare was over and he was no longer a part of her life.
Jesus. He had to stop on the way up his front porch steps and brace his right hand against the railing, as that last thought slammed into him like a high-powered kick to his sternum. Whatever his frame of mind had been when he’d come after her, he was man enough to admit that things were...changing on him. His need for her was taking on a new face and shape, until it was something he no longer even recognized. Something that seemed to be shifting on him with each second that ticked by, becoming stronger...sharper, like a reflection in the fogged surface of a mirror as it slowly cleared.
Which meant he’d just have to claw on to every bit of control he could find. And when he reached the bottom of the well, dig even deeper.
When he didn’t find her in the cabin, his teeth snapping together so hard at the sight of all that damn green that it made his jaw ache, he went back outside and ran into James. From the looks of it, the sweaty, bare-chested merc had spent the better part of the day cutting the plush green grass that covered the entire expanse of the glade, the crisp scent of the freshly cut blades thick in the air.
“You didn’t happen to see Sayre out here, did you?” he asked, while James chugged back a bottle of water.
The tall, dark-haired merc wiped the back of his wrist over his mouth, then said, “She’s playing poker with her boys.”
He froze, hoping like hell that he’d heard him wrong. “Her what?”
James’s brown eyes crinkled at the corners, the smirk on his face making it clear he thought Cian’s jealous reaction was funny. “Her guys. You know, Max and Elliot and Lev. They always used to play together over at Lev’s place, before she moved. Me, Sam and Kyle would sometimes join them, but it was always the four of them together.”
Something hot and uncomfortable crept its way up his spine, then curled around the backs of his ears and settled sourly on his tongue. He’d never experienced the vile touch of jealousy before Sayre, but he’d felt it nearly every day since. Even in the years they were apart, it was a constant emotion weighing heavily in his gut, forever reminding him that she was somewhere out there in the world, enjoying her life...with someone who wasn’t him.
Only, she hadn’t been. Instead, she’d been living in her own personal prison, isolated and alone, and that was on him. Not because he’d made it happen, but because he hadn’t been there for her, in whatever way that she’d needed him.
Feeling like an even bigger jackass than he did before, he headed over to Lev’s cabin.
Without even bothering to knock, he gripped the heavy metal handle that was still warm from the sun and opened the front door, the music and laughter he could hear coming from inside telling him that everyone was still there. After letting himself in, he saw that they were all gathered around a card table in the middle of the merc’s living room, and he knew, before she even opened her mouth, that Sayre had been drinking. The alcohol had slipped into her scent, giving it a ticklish edge that would have been intriguing, if she weren’t sitting there getting wasted with a table full of guys who looked as if they’d like nothing more than to put her in their laps and let her wriggle that sweet little ass of hers all over them.
The instant she looked up and saw him standing just inside the archway from the hall, a wide smile spread across her pink face and she flung her arms up in the air, throwing cards everywhere as she shouted, “I knew you’d find me!” Then she reached over and grabbed Max’s beer, lifting it high and damn near spilling it all over the place.
Christ, she wasn’t just a little tipsy. She was hammered.
“’N case you were wondering what I’m doing with this bottle, I’m toasting fate for being such a bitch,” she said with a tiny hiccup, while Max tried to rescue his beer and Lev and Elliot just looked on with stupid grins on their faces.
Making his way around the table, Cian crouched down beside her, drawing her face toward him with the touch of his fingers on her chin. Sensing that there was something bothering her—and hoping like hell that she hadn’t found out what was discussed at the meeting—he asked, “What’s going on, Sayre? You were fine when I left this morning.”
A bitter laugh slipped past those pink, velvety lips. “That’s because you ran out while I was asleep. And then...then your harem started showing up!”
His harem? What was she talking about?
In a moment of clarity, she must have read the confusion on his face, because she leaned in closer so that she could explain, her breath smelling like peach schnapps. “There’s been a steady stream of ’em all day. Blondes, brunettes, redheads. Slim, curvy, short, tall. Pale, dark, and everything in between. And every single one of them was beautiful.” Her voice got soft, and she made the saddest little damn sound that he’d ever heard, whispering, “So freaking beautiful. And they’ve missed you.”
He bit back a guttural curse, understanding now how Eli had felt when his past bed partners had tried to visit him in the Alley, after he’d returned. Carla hadn’t reacted well, and neither was Sayre. Not that he blamed her, seeing as how that green-eyed monster was one he was only too familiar with these days.
“I didn’t ask them to come here,” he told her. “And I’ve no desire to see them, Sayre.”
; She rolled her eyes, or at least tried to, ending up a little cross-eyed instead. “Sure you don’t. That’s exshmactly...I mean expactly...damn it, I mean ezfactly what I expected you to say!”
“God, you’re cute when you’re wasted,” he rumbled, easily catching her in his arms as she lost her balance on the chair and slumped to the side, crashing right into him. Moving to his feet, he held her soft weight cuddled against his chest as he turned toward the table and the three guys who were watching them, their expressions almost tender as they glanced at Sayre, who had gone as limp as an overcooked noodle in his arms. It was clear that they’d been looking out for her, even while enjoying her drunken revelry.
“I’m taking her back to my place,” he told them, hoping they were smart enough not to give him any grief about it.
Max and Elliot smirked, while Slivkoff gave a low laugh. “’Bout time, don’t you think, Irish?”
Cian narrowed his eyes at the jackass. “You got something you’d like to say to me, Russian?”
“Oh, I have lots of things that I’ll say eventually. When it’s just the two of us.” The merc cracked his knuckles. “That way I can make sure that you’re listening. Real careful-like.”
Cian flipped him off with the hand near Sayre’s knees, then turned and headed back outside, unable to get enough of the way she felt in his arms, even when she was too drunk to lift her head. He could feel her lips moving against his chest, and was trying to make out the words as he carried her across the grassy glade. Then her voice got a little louder, and he thought he caught something about letting a wolf out of a closet.
“Hey, are you singing that Shakira song?” he asked, nuzzling the top of her head with his nose, her hair so silky that the animal in him wanted to feel it stroking over every inch of his body, the wolf more tactile than a human could ever be.
“What’s wrong with that?” Her voice was a little sleepy, but not quite as slurred as before, the fresh air no doubt helping to clear her head a bit. “Shakira is hawt!” she added, and he could sense her smile. “If I were a dude, I would so tap that.”
He gave a loud snort. “If you were a dude, seeing you drunk off your ass in those little shorts you’re wearing wouldn’t be nearly so much fun.”
She pulled her head back, her pretty mouth hanging open in a way that was putting some seriously dirty thoughts in his head. Not that he didn’t always have those around her. “Ohmygod,” she gasped, blinking up at him. “Did you just crack a joke? I didn’t think you even knew how to do that anymore.”
His lips twitched, but he managed to choke back the laugh burning in his throat, not wanting to encourage her.
She snuggled back against his chest and shimmied in his arms until she could bury her nose in the crook of his shoulder, almost as if she were trying to breathe in more of his scent, and a sizzling spike of lust shot straight to his dick. “This is so weird,” she said around a yawn, making him wonder if she’d sensed that he was getting hard.
“What’s weird, lass?”
She danced her fingertips across his chest, her voice so soft it was nearly lost in the evening breeze. “Being here, in the Alley. In your arms. I mean, a girl spends years thinking she’ll never—as in the freaking moon will turn into cheese and pigs will fly before it happens—never, ever, ever be in a certain place, and then boom, there she is.”
“Huh. That was quite an emphatic never about ever being in my arms.”
“Well, I might not be human, but I get a clue as quickly as the next girl. You leaving like you did didn’t beed...um, bade...I mean bode well for ever seeing that gorgeous face of yours again.”
He couldn’t stop himself from pressing his nose back into her hair, the sweetness of having her close somehow making him feel better than he had in...hell, in years. With a cocky smile in his need-roughened voice, he asked, “You calling me gorgeous, baby?”
This time, she was the one who snorted. “Like you don’t already know. You’ve seen a mirror, Hennessey.”
His response was heartfelt and low. “Yeah, well, I don’t have anything on you.”
“Oh, get real. I’d rather you just be quiet than lie to me. I’m so, so, sooo sick of all the lies.”
She was finding her words better now, but her voice still had that singsong quality to it that was a sure sign of someone who’d tossed back a bit too much. And from what he knew about Sayre when she was younger, she wasn’t a drinker. Which meant it probably hadn’t taken much to get her to this point.
Cian got her into the cabin and onto the bed with relative ease, surprised to find she was still awake when he came back from the kitchen with a cold bottle of water for her.
“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you about your tattoo,” he murmured, after she’d finished taking a couple of sips and was snuggling down into the pillows while he sat beside her on the edge of the bed. He’d slipped her sandals off her cute feet, but left her in her shorts and tank top, knowing better than to tempt himself with the exposure of too much flesh.
“Hmm.” Her eyes were closed, and he thought she might have passed out, when she suddenly asked, “Which one?”
His own eyes went a little wide—though she missed it because she wasn’t looking at him. “You have more than one?”
“Yep. I’ve got three of them little puppies.”
He laughed, which had her opening her eyes just enough to glare at him. Catching a pale strand of hair that was stuck to her flushed cheek and tucking it behind the delicate shell of her ear, he said, “Please don’t tell me you have a puppy tattooed on your sweet little ass.”
“What?” she gasped, smacking him in the shoulder. “No, you goober. No puppies.”
Bracing his left arm over her body, he watched her try to keep her eyes open, thinking she was probably going to have his head for questioning her like this once she’d sobered up. But he wanted answers enough that he was willing to risk it. Apparently, he was that much of a goober. “So if you’re not sporting a slew of killer puppy tats, then what are they?”
“Well, the one on my belly is Sanskrit. It’s meant to help me find peace and to keep me centered. And then there’s one between my shoulder blades. You haven’t seen that one yet. It’s a...mmm, you smell really good.”
Christ, she was killing him with that hungry look on her face. Coughing to clear the lump of lust that had just lodged itself down near his voice box, he said, “I’m glad you think so, lass. But you were telling me about the ink on your back.”
She blinked as if coming out of a daze, making him wonder where her thoughts had drifted. “Oh. Right. It’s a pretty little owl in flight that’s meant to help me be wise.”
“And where’s the third one?”
“The third what?” she mumbled, just as her eyes fluttered shut again, her pink lips parted just enough for her gentle breaths.
Knowing he had it bad when just watching the witch breathing made him so fucking hard that he hurt, he groaned, “Tattoo, remember?”
“Oh, that one’s high on my inner thigh.” She cracked one sleepy eye open. “And no, I’m not showing it to you. It’s a secret,” she told him, looking so incredibly young lying there on the shamrock-covered sheets, the spray of freckles over her cheeks and nose too damn adorable for words. He honestly didn’t know what fate had been thinking to link her with someone like him, but it sure as hell wasn’t what she deserved. In another world, where fairness ruled, she’d have been connected to a male who could be everything that she needed. Not only a protector and lover, but also a partner. A male who made seeing that she was happy his single most important mission in life.
Without even realizing he was going to do it, he heard himself ask, “What do you want, Sayre?”
Since he’d thought she’d finally dozed off, she caught him by surprise when she said, “You. I want to trust you, Cian, but I’m scared.
”
Though his heart had just lodged itself in his throat, he somehow managed to rasp, “Why? What are you afraid of?”
She turned onto her side so that she faced away from him and wrapped her arms around her pillow, her voice so soft it was barely a whisper. “It’s not your brother, because I know you’ll deal with whatever’s going on between the two of you. But I’m frightened by how badly I want you. Of not being enough for you. Of you walking away again, like you did last time. If I decide to trust you, and then you cheat or get bored or just move on, it’s going to hurt so much. Worse than when you left me before, and I don’t know how I would...” She pulled in a shaky breath, and with a catch in her voice, she finished the thought, saying, “I don’t know what I would do, except hate you. And I don’t want that to happen.”
His gut cramped with a powerful shot of self-loathing, because he knew he would no doubt end up hurting her in the end. Not with another woman. Never like that. The last five years had clearly shown him that if he couldn’t have Sayre, he apparently couldn’t be satisfied with anyone else. But he couldn’t stay with her. She was honestly the best person he’d ever known, and he cared for her more than he was comfortable admitting, even to himself. The most honorable thing he could do for her was to walk away once she was safe, if he managed to make it through this in one piece. To give her a chance to live her life without his shadow hanging over it, dragging her down with him.
So it’s better for her to live alone than with us? his wolf snarled. We’re her mate. Hers. There is no other male out there who can make her as complete as we can. No one!
“I don’t expect you to understand,” he quietly told the beast as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sayre’s freckled shoulder. She didn’t even twitch, her even breathing telling him that she’d drifted off. Being careful not to wake her, he headed out onto the back porch and lit a cigarette, needing the quiet so that he could think. But the animal wasn’t ready to let him be.
Of course you don’t expect me to understand. You just expect me to live with your choices and suck it up without complaint because of mistakes you made a bloody lifetime ago. Haven’t we suffered enough?
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