by Chloe Cole
He had a name.
Mikhail.
He repeated it silently until it was branded into his brain, but he kept talking, in hopes that his captive didn’t realize his slipup. “You say your father is a pack alpha. What pack?” And if that were true, then why hadn’t he already mentally called on his dog buddies to come help him? Willa’s theory that these two were rogues who had been ousted from their packs was making more and more sense. According to both Willa and Drake, a true break from their brethren would’ve left both men unable to tap into the pack’s telepathic type of communication. Another lucky break for the good guys. Less wolves to deal with was always a good thing.
The man rolled his shoulders and winced.
“Look, man, I’m in a lot of pain. You got anything to take the edge off? Probably I could think better if I had something.”
Etienne narrowed his gaze, noting the other man’s dilated pupils.
“Drugs? Is that why you’re sweating?”
His captive broke eye contact and looked away, but there was no mistaking the pounding of the pulse in his neck.
That was it. This guy was a junkie and he needed a fix. Standard street drugs wouldn’t put him in this condition. Shifter metabolisms just moved too fast for them to offer more than a fleeting high, and certainly not one that would become a rampant addiction. Which meant this guy was an Amp-head. Usually, the fact that disreputable shifters took advantage of their own and distributed the shit for free until their customers were addicted made Etienne furious. Today though, it definitely worked in his favor. This guy might be acting tough now, but it wouldn’t be long before his addiction to Amp would do Etienne’s job for him. When the need got bad enough and the pain of detox came, he would tell Etienne whatever he needed to know.
“DT’s are coming soon, so why don’t we let you get a taste of that and see if you feel more in the mood to talk a little later.”
Etienne needed some time to cool off, in any case. Then, he needed to call Willa now that he had one of their names. He didn’t doubt that this guy was, at one point, the son of an alpha. Odds were that wouldn’t matter if they were rogues and had severed ties, but if not, there were political issues here that couldn’t be ignored. To not at least seek her counsel and use the one asset he had in the wolf world would be silly.
Wars were costly for his kind. It had been a hundred years since the last one. The death toll across all the shifter breeds had been high and the commotion had garnered far too much human attention. Nowadays, with every kid in the world armed with a smart phone tied to the Internet and drones filling the skies, they were already on constant high alert. A full out war would have them in the public eye in no time.
He had to tread carefully, or risk not only Taya’s safety, but the safety of his kind.
He ignored his captive’s escalating pleas and headed back up the stairs. He’d make some calls, then spend the rest of his day in the air, tracking this “Mikhail”’s scent. If he could pin him up before dark, this would all be over, no muss, no fuss. If not?
He had some work to do.
Work that would hopefully keep his mind off the fact that the only woman who had ever roused the deepest passions of his dragon had walked out the door.
Then, when it was all over, he’d sit down alone and try to come to terms with the fact that he would never see Taya again.
Chapter Ten
Taya stared through the panes of the French doors, watching the rain come down from the night sky in sheets, her heart like a lead balloon in her chest.
When she’d stepped out of the strange castle-like house that sat atop a craggy rock, she’d been surprised to feel the warm wetness of tears on her cheeks. Because inside, she was pretty much numb in spite of a deep and persistent ache in her chest that she refused to think about.
It had taken most of the hour-long, nearly silent ride before everything started to hit her for real. But once it had, every passing hour had only made it worse.
“You want a cup of tea, Taya?”
She turned to see Willa standing behind her, concern pinching her smooth brow.
She stared at the other woman for a long moment, recalling how, just the day before, she’d believed her to be a sketch artist for the police department…even after she’d drawn a picture of vampire Jesus. God, was she gullible. Etienne had said it, so she’d believed it.
Etienne, who she’d known for all of two days.
Etienne, who had comforted and held her and dried her tears.
Etienne, who wasn’t what he seemed to be.
She shut that line of thought down for the hundredth time and focused her attention back on Willa.
“No, thank you.”
The awkward silence that had stretched on for most of the day and into the evening hours continued now, and, as much as her instincts told her to fill it, she didn’t know what to say. They didn’t know one another aside from their meeting the day before, which had been full of nothing but lies. And since Taya had made her choice about hearing the truth, that left only talk of the weather, or some sporting event or another. All things that seemed so inconsequential in light of the past two days, it was almost laughable.
She turned back to the doors and caught a quick glimpse of her tabby streaking by. Poor Abel. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to come inside when Etienne had been there along with Drake and Willa. His owner might be a gullible idiot, but the street-smart calico had known something was fishy right from the start.
“I know it’s an inconvenience, but you’re going to need to call in sick or take a personal day from your job tomorrow, and possibly the next day, depending on how long it takes Etienne to take care of the business at hand. I don’t know if you need to call in or what, but I just wanted to make sure we were clear on that.”
Drake’s low, calm baritone had her turning to face him and Willa again.
So strange that she hadn’t seen it before. The clear and obvious bond between them. They were either lovers or husband and wife, no question of that. They stood so close, they were almost touching, as if one’s energy was feeding off the other.
Yet another sign that she’d missed that something had been off the morning before. Once this was all over and she had moved on, priority number one was going to be getting street-smart like Abel. No more walking down dark paths and trusting her fellow man, no more letting Good Samaritans into her home and almost sleeping with—
“Yes, I know. I already emailed my boss. It’s fine.” Her throat ached and she swallowed hard to dislodge the lump there. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to go to my room. I’m not feeling well and could use a hot shower a good night’s sleep.”
She forced a smile that everyone in the room surely knew was fake. “The guest bedroom has clean sheets, and there are snacks in the pantry if you get hungry later. Feel free to make yourselves at home.”
As she made her way to the stairs, she looked again at the French doors as she passed, another wave of emotion threatening to drag her under. She didn’t know how he’d managed it. The glass panes that had been shattered during the home break-in had been replaced, and all the broken shards had been cleaned up. The furniture that had been upended was all set right. Even the blood spatter had been scrubbed from the carpet. If an outsider came in now, it would look as if nothing had happened.
But something had, and as thoughtful as it had been of Etienne to get it all cleaned up so she didn’t have to look at it again, there was no cleaning company in the world who could wipe the stain of it from her mind.
Snapping jaws.. Bared teeth. Wavering lips.
“Good night,” she said curtly, and wheeled around, heading toward the stairs before the tears that threatened finally spilled over.
Lord, she’d cried more this weekend than she’d cried in her entire life, and she had the feeling there was plenty more where that came from. The blessed numbness that had kept her sane had begun to fade and sheer terror was creeping in to take its place.
>
She’d been attacked by two men who were clearly more than men and they hadn’t stopped there. They’d come back for her. To her house. Her home. And something told her that the man who had rescued her was as dangerous as her attackers. How was she going to sleep at night without dreaming of those faces, twisted and cruel as they grabbed her and pawed at her clothes? Or would that be a blessing after being haunted by dreams of another face, Etienne’s face, as he bent to kiss her or whisper a reassurance in her ear.
Everything is going to be okay.
Because at least you’re not dead.
She mentally alternated, repeating her old mantra and the new one as she closed the bedroom door behind her and made a beeline for the bed, exhaustion smothering her like a blanket of smog.
Forget the shower. She needed to curl up into a ball like an armadillo and hide from the world right now.
She stripped down to her tank top and underwear and dove beneath the covers, shivering from head to toe.
For half an hour, maybe more, she lay there waiting for the cold to abate. When it didn’t, she buried her head beneath the blankets and let her warm breath fill the space. But that didn’t work either. She thought of all the good things in life. Her students. Her cats. Lazy summer days. Working in her garden. Watching a horror movie with a bucket of popcorn and an icy fountain soda. But even the things that had given her immense pleasure even a week ago seemed drab and colorless now.
Wasn’t that another symptom that often followed a traumatic event? She already knew she was suffering from the one. Falling for her savior. Maybe this was just another part of the process.
Joylessness.
And maybe you need to stop being such a whiny-ass and give it some time like Etienne said.
She snuggled deeper into her makeshift den and forced herself to close her eyes and try to sleep. It took another hour but, finally, she nodded off only to wake a short while later panicked and in a pool of sweat.
Wolves. Gnashing teeth. Feral smiles. The stench of rotting meat.
“Screw this.” She yanked the blankets aside and, for the first time since Etienne had offered her the choice, she felt sure. Right. Settled. Like she was finally taking control.
She wasn’t an armadillo. She was a woman. A woman strong enough to handle the truth and too smart to be comforted by platitudes. The open-ended questions would plague her for life, and she had the distinct impression that, once Etienne dealt with her attackers, that was it. She’d have no way to find him again if she changed her mind. He would disappear, like some figment of her imagination.
It was now or it was never.
She dressed quickly and went barreling out of the room, her resolve giving her more energy than she’d had in days. By the time she made it down the stairs and into the kitchen where Drake and Willa sat behind mugs of coffee, she was breathless. Drake swung his head in her direction, and she met his gaze unflinchingly.
“Call Etienne. I’ve changed my mind.”
“Aw, come on love, I’m wearing your favorite outfit.”
Etienne took a long pull from his glass of cognac and spared a bored glance in Penny’s direction.
“I see that, and you look lovely. If you let me enjoy my drink, I’ll take a closer look at it when I’m done, all right?”
The redhead plumped her lips into a pout and shrugged.
“If I’m still around, I guess.” She tossed her mane of extensions over one shoulder and walked away, swinging her hips in an exaggerated fashion for his benefit.
He barely spared her a second glance before turning back to his drink. Penny had always been one of his favorites at The Dungeon. She was human, but feisty. Tonight, though, he just wanted to be left alone to drink in peace.
Taya.
Every time he thought he’d done all the thinking he was going to do about her, something happened that had her at the forefront of his mind again.
There were no two ways about it. She’d done the right thing. And maybe once he’d caught Mikhail and convinced himself that the two men who had attacked her would be neutralized, he would be able to truly close this chapter in his life and stop thinking about her.
But he doubted it.
An image of how she’d looked at the bar right when she’d decided to kiss him flashed through his mind and he bit back a groan.
“Hey, Etienne. You alone?”
A black haired woman with cat green eyes slid onto the stool beside him and laid a possessive arm over his shoulder.
“Hi, Mellisa. Not alone for long. I’m waiting for someone.”
It was a lie, but on top of being a real tiger—both in the bedroom and out—she was a nice enough person, and he didn’t want to insult her. It was his own fault for coming here in the first place when he wasn’t in the mood for female company.
It had been a long and frustrating day, hunting for Mikhail to no avail. He had a call in to Willa, who had recognized the name and was even now in contact with the other packs gathering information, but when his bloodlust was at an all-time high, patience was at an all-time low. The waiting was killing him, and he’d hoped a few drinks would take the edge off.
Initially, he’d considered going back home, but dismissed it out of hand. When he’d realized that tracking Taya’s attackers was going to take some time, during which he wanted no distractions, he’d sent his harem packing. All eight of them had agreed to take a trip into the city for a few days of shopping on his dime readily enough. Now, though, the thought of going to a silent, empty house held no more appeal than the thought of having all those women fawning over him.
Jesus. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want to be with his lovers. When had he become such a fickle bastard?
But deep down, he knew it was more than an off mood driving him.
Because the only place he truly wanted to be right now was with Taya.
“Well, since your date’s not here yet, how about we wait together.” Melissa slid forward until she was mostly off her stool and wrapped around him. “Maybe she won’t mind sharing later, eh?”
She ground herself against his thigh in a way that would’ve had him hot just days before, but he found himself completely unmoved. He just kept thinking of the expression on Taya’s face when she’d realized they’d never see one another again.
A dull ache settled in his chest, and he opened his mouth to give Melissa a “thanks, but no thanks” when his cell phone buzzed, skittering against the gleaming surface of the bar. He peered down at the screen and pressed the green answer button.
“Everything okay, Drake?” he barked over the line.
A low sigh greeted him on the other end and, for a second, his heart stuttered in his chest. Had Mikhail somehow gotten to Taya? As he sat here in this stupid club, was she somewhere a hundred miles away, bleeding out?
“Depends what you mean by okay. If you mean is your little teacher still alive? Yeah. Alive and kicking.”
The words washed over him, the relief flooding in like a summer squall, and he took a second to compose himself.
“So what’s the issue, then?” he asked, telling himself that, whatever it was, he could handle. So long as Taya was okay, anything else was fixable.
“There’s been a change of plan.”
Change of plan? Etienne set his glass down on the bar with a clink and held the phone more tightly to his ear. “What kind of change? Is she being difficult?”
She’d seemed agreeable enough when he’d suggested that she go with his friends, but given the strain she’d been under lately, that could’ve changed on a dime.
“Not difficult, exactly. Just…determined.” Silence crackled over the line before Drake continued. “Look, I want to go on record as saying that I think this is a terrible idea. Willa disagrees with me, but seriously, man—”
“Spit it out, Drake. What’s a terrible idea?”
Another long sigh.
“She’s changed her mind.”
For a second, Etienne wonde
red if he’d misheard Drake, but his irritated voice continued over the line.
“She wants the truth. And she wants you to be the one to tell it to her.”
He leapt to his feet, sending Melissa, who had been all but on his lap, stumbling backward. He took a moment to steady her and mouth a quick apology before turning away.
Until that very moment, Etienne would’ve said that he was at peace with Taya’s decision. Not happy. During the times they’d spent together that she wasn’t in mortal danger, he’d enjoyed her company far too much to feel joy at the thought of never seeing her again. But supportive of her choice?
Yes.
Because he’d at least been able to comfort himself with the idea that maybe someday she’d be able to lead a normal, happy life again.
Now, though, as Drake’s words sunk in, gelling in his mind, penetrating his bones, the truth of it was like a neon sign flashing in the darkness.
He and his dragon were of one mind.
For better or worse, Taya was his and had been from the start.
Maybe she could never be his forever mate. Maybe he and Taya could never wed, but she was his, nonetheless.
His to care for. His to protect.
His.
And dragon’s kept what was theirs.
The rest—all the pitfalls and problems that would come along with her learning what he was and the aftermath—he would worry about later. For now, he had to get to Taya, because she needed him.
He downed the rest of his cognac in one swallow, and barked into the phone.
“I’m on my way.”
Chapter Eleven
Taya paced back and forth, sparing a glance at her watch every few minutes before resuming her path. Where the heck had he been that it was taking him so long to get here, Mars?
“He just texted. He had to stop off at the keep to check on our little friend. He should be here in five minutes.”
Taya wrung her hands together and gave Drake a tight smile. “Thanks.”
When he didn’t leave the room and head back down to join his wife, Taya paused and turned to face him.