by Jane Godman
Over time, werewolves had achieved a remarkable feat. They were able to gain control over their bloodlust, although their other wolf instincts remained intact. Gradually, the werewolf world had split into two packs. One chose to live as wolves, while the other resided in the mortal world. Modern-day werewolves who lived as humans craved anonymity. They were law abiding and peace loving, rarely drawing attention to themselves.
No, Vigo would not have killed a human. Even if his place in human society hadn’t been threatened, Amber knew he wasn’t capable of it. So where had this feeling of unease come from? It had come from that look he gave her before he left the kitchen with those police officers. The one that had torn her heart in two. Because it didn’t matter how much she told herself what they had was temporary. That they wouldn’t give in to what nature was demanding and become mates for life. Vigo was in her blood. She belonged to him. And if she couldn’t be with his she may as well be dead.
But that look . . . it had told her something was very wrong. And now, although she was so exhausted her bones ached, she couldn’t take advantage of the big comfortable bed. Instead, she sat in a chair by the window and gazed out at the beautiful garden. She had to wait for him no matter how long it took. Even though she knew she wasn’t going to like what he had to say, she needed to ask him the meaning behind that look. Had to hear the story of Lilah Petersen and why her death meant the police had come to talk to Vigo.
It was almost an hour later when she heard his step outside the door. He turned the handle cautiously as though afraid of disturbing her and his gaze went straight to the bed. When he didn’t see her there, there was a brief flash of fear in his eyes. It was as transparent as new glass. He looked like a man who had lost everything that mattered in his life. That told her everything she needed to know. Her yearning for him wasn’t one sided. The connection between them wasn’t just physical. Vigo craved her as much as she craved him. Now it was time to fill in the details.
Amber rose from her seat by the window and went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. As she held him, she could feel some of the tension oozing out of his body.
“I think it’s time you told me why you think we can’t be together forever.” When she tilted her head to look into his eyes, the shadows in their amber depths made her want to weep.
He twined his hands with hers, leading her to the edge of the bed and pulling her down next to him. “It’s hard to know where to start this story.”
“Tell me about the woman who was murdered.”
“Lilah? We had a relationship—a very intense sexual relationship—about six years ago. It didn’t last long.” He managed a brief smile. “I don’t think I was wild enough for her.”
“And now she’s dead?”
He drew in a breath so ragged it sounded painful. “She was strangled in a way that looked a lot like some photographs of a sex game we once played. And I don’t have an alibi for the night she died.”
“That won’t matter once they find the person who did it.”
She had barely finished uttering the words before she was caught up in an embrace so hard she was crushed against his chest. Initially, she gave herself up to pure pleasure. His arms wrapped around her, his hard muscle beneath her cheek, and his warm scent enveloping her were as blissful as the hot shower she’d taken earlier. After a about a minute, the need to breathe took over and she wriggled slightly in his hold.
“Munf,” she spoke directly into his chest
“Pardon?” He relaxed his hold slightly.
Amber raised her head. “I said I think I might be suffocating.”
Vigo bent his head and kissed her. “You’ll never know how much I dreaded telling you.”
“Why?” She scanned his face in surprise. “You can’t seriously think I would believe you killed her?”
His expression relaxed briefly, relief giving his features a new glow. Then he seemed to remember something, and he withdrew slightly. “There are things you don’t know about me.”
“Vigo, you are centuries old. There will always be things that have happened in your life that I’m not aware of. But I know there are secrets that you feel are keeping us apart. Unless you tell me about them and let me judge, how will we ever know for sure whether we can get past them?”
“It’s not that easy. There is a time in my life I’ve never told anyone about.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Because I’m too ashamed.”
She lifted his hand, grazing his knuckles with her lips. “But this is me.”
His voice was shaky. “That means everything, but it doesn’t make it easier.”
“Just start talking. I’ll follow along.”
“I had a serious problem for a long time. With alcohol . . .” He paused and she could sense his internal struggle. “And sex. It started about ten years ago. All I wanted to do at that time was get wasted and get laid. To be blunt, I had a permanent hard-on and I didn’t give a damn where I put it. I’d fuck anyone, anywhere, anyhow. I was addicted, and I’d reached a point where I couldn’t come if the sex wasn’t dangerous.”
Amber put her hand on his knee and he flinched as though she’d burned him. “Vigo, look at me.” His eyes, when he lifted them to her face, were tortured. “I’m your mate, remember? We’re bound together by invisible ties that can’t be broken. There is nothing you can tell me that is going to make me turn away from you.”
“I even had sex with a woman I’d never met before, in a nightclub restroom.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
He gave a shaky laugh. “At the time, yes. Five minutes later? I felt like crap . . . but I was already horny again.”
It wasn’t easy to hear him talk about himself this way. Not because of the things he was confessing, but because of the note of self-loathing in his voice. It was going to take a lot of hard work to help him get past that. “Did something cause your addiction?”
“Yes, there was a trigger. I was on duty at work when we were called to a major road traffic incident. A truck had come off a bridge, falling onto the freeway below. One of the vehicles involved was a bus full of school kids—” He broke off, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Take as long as you need.” Amber slid her arm around his waist, letting him feel her presence.
Vigo kept his head bent. His voice was barely a whisper. “I’m a healer. It’s what I do. Who I am. But I couldn’t do anything for those kids. Although some of them were still alive when we got there, they were trapped. We did what we could, but the cutting equipment didn’t get there in time.” Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. “Not one of them survived.”
“Oh, Vigo.” Amber’s voice cracked as she turned her face into his neck. “You did everything you could.”
“That’s just the point. My everything wasn’t enough. I felt useless. The images were with me all the time. The cries . . .” His voice became choked. “I wasn’t eating or sleeping. The only way I could get the sounds and pictures out of my head was to drink. Alcohol numbed the pain. At least temporarily. I wasn’t an alcoholic, I was an alcohol abuser. I sorted that difference out when I went into therapy. I could cope without a drink, go long periods without it. I didn’t need alcohol to function. But I started using it to get me to a point where I could lose my sexual inhibitions.”
“Was that because sex made you feel good about yourself again?”
“I suppose it was. While I was inside someone else, I could drive those cries out of my head. And you can’t concentrate on anything when you’re in the throes of an orgasm. My appetite grew out of control. At first a day without sex was unbearable, then I started to need it every few hours. Then it was constant. But it had to be with a different person each time. I craved new experiences. I was totally out of control. The more I hungered for sex, the more I needed it to be dangerous and the more alcohol I consumed. My addictions were dependent on each other, yet I wasn’t fulfilled by either of them.” His lips twisted into a bitter grimace. “My life was a mess
. It was before I joined the brotherhood, but my friends and colleagues started to back off. They could see that what was going on with me was too extreme. That feeling of never being satisfied still haunts me. The knowledge that I have had sex with countless people who meant nothing. I gave myself up to that hunger and the payoff was that I lost any capacity to care for other people. It was a useless, empty existence.”
“What about your job? Were you able to continue working?”
“Only just. But I wasn’t doing my job properly, and I knew people were talking. Oddly enough, it was my relationship with Lilah that was the turning point. It was while we together that I realized how much I’d changed. What she saw in me wasn’t the person I wanted to be. I had become a predator. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, I was looking for sex. That was the vibe I was giving off. It was what attracted Lilah to me. I took a long, hard look at myself and decided I could keep going down that route, or I could start liking myself again.”
“How did you get yourself back on track?” Amber asked.
“I went to see my boss. I explained to her exactly what had happened, even told her all about my relationship with Lilah and how it made me feel. She was incredibly understanding. Then I took a leave of absence, put myself into therapy, and did a hell of a lot of talking.”
“So your boss is where we start.” Amber pulled her sweater over her head as she spoke.
“Pardon?” Vigo blinked at her as she began to unbutton her jeans.
“After we get a few hours’ sleep, you can call your boss and get her to verify your story about what was going on with you around the time you split up with Lilah.”
Vigo shook his head. “You are amazing.”
She grinned mischievously as she patted his cheek. “Tell me that again . . . once you are naked.”
Chapter Twelve
The house was quiet when Amber woke a few hours later. Although it was afternoon, most of the team were still sleeping off the effects of the recent mission and the long journey. She slid silently out of bed without disturbing Vigo, pulled on her clothes, and went downstairs in search of coffee.
She found a note from Odessa saying she had taken the children out for the day and inviting everyone to help themselves to anything they needed. With a sigh of pleasure, Amber inhaled the aroma of fresh coffee as she fixed herself a cup.
A footstep on the tiled floor made her turn her head and she encountered Kristof’s burning gaze.
“I guess we haven’t mastered the skill of sleeping for twenty-four hours after a mission.” She tried to hide her shock at his appearance behind the flippant comment. He looked like he had aged ten years since she first saw him. That was quite a feat for someone who was immortal. “Coffee?”
“I’m going home.” He indicated the bag at his feet. His lip wobbled slightly and he took a moment to get it under control. “I need some time to think. I’m not sure I can do this.”
Amber experienced an unexpected tug of sympathy toward him. Her initial dislike of him hadn’t gone away, but he was clearly suffering, and she hated to see his pain. Impulsively, she went to him and placed her arms around him in a light, uncomfortable hug. Physical contact with others wasn’t her usual style. She had been alone for too long and she was never quite sure of the protocols. She envied other people the ease with which they hugged and touched. It was as if they had a hidden code from which she was excluded. On this occasion, she sensed Kristof’s need and did her best to respond.
He seemed to appreciate her efforts. Drawing her close, he held her tight against his chest for a moment or two. She could feel the pounding of his heart and the slight quiver of his body. And then things started to get uncomfortable. As she began to draw away, his grip tightened. It became a battle of wills. The harder she pulled, the more he clutched. It reached the point where Amber was seriously considering kneeing him in the groin to get away.
“Kristof . . .”
“Fuck.” He released her abruptly. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
The expression on his face was at odds with the apologetic words. Something flared in the depths of his eyes, chasing away the fearful look. Amber, moving swiftly away from him, didn’t care to spend too long on analyzing it. She must be imagining that predatory look. He had never given her any reason to believe he desired her.
“Will Vigo be okay?” He seemed to be trying for a more normal vibe. “That police thing didn’t sound good.”
“It’s a misunderstanding.” Say it firmly and it will be true. “We’re going to see his former boss today. She can help him a lot by explaining a few things to the police.”
His expression changed, became intent as though her words were vitally important. “I hope that works out.” He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder.
“Are you sure you won’t stay?” She wasn’t sure she wanted him to. He was watching her again with that hungry stare. It was making her seriously uncomfortable. “You may feel better if you talk your feelings through with some of the long serving members of the brotherhood. They’ll probably understand how you feel.”
He shook his head. “I need to be alone.”
Kristof waved his hand as he walked away. Amber heard the front door closing, exhaling a sigh of relief before feeling slightly guilty. Even though he was acting weird, Kristof didn’t look like someone who should be alone.
She stood looking out of the full-length windows as she drank her coffee. Although the view was incredible, she didn’t see the rolling lawn stretching down to the lake and the trees beyond. Her thoughts were on Vigo’s revelations about his past. What he had told her troubled her, but only because it affected him so deeply. Deep down inside, he thought himself unworthy of any kind of closeness. He considered himself tarnished by that dark period of his life and was unable to see beyond it.
Amber hadn’t expected to find her mate. Now she had discovered Vigo in the most unexpected circumstances. He was centuries old. His experiences, good and bad, shaped who he was. She didn’t know if they had a future, but it seemed they were going to find it hard to ignore the connection between them. Her mate was always going to have a past. Did it matter? She examined the thought objectively. She’d rather he hadn’t been addicted to sex and alcohol. Would have preferred it if he’d lived a squeaky-clean life for hundreds of years waiting for her to come along.
Amber was a realist. She knew life didn’t work that way. And she understood why Vigo’s behavior had been so wild. He hadn’t dealt with shock of the accident he’d witnessed. Instead, he’d tried to power through it, with the result that he’d made his symptoms worse. She could argue that someone in a job like his should have known better. Should have known about post traumatic stress disorder and its devastating effects. Should have gotten help before he reached the point where his life was almost ruined.
Should have. Two of the most pointless words ever. He didn’t. Move on.
The problem was Vigo hadn’t moved on. Mentally and physically he’d picked himself up from that time, but he couldn’t forgive himself. He was deeply ashamed that he’d let himself get there. Couldn’t identify with the person he’d briefly become. Now it had all come back to haunt him with Lilah’s murder and Amber was scared about what it would do to his fragile self-esteem.
And to us . . . if there is an us. How will this affect our future?
Her thoughts were interrupted as Vigo himself came into the kitchen. “I wondered where you’d gone.”
She held her coffee cup. “I can’t go far. I have nowhere to live. Remember?”
He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “My apartment is big enough for two.”
Her heart gave a glad little bound. “Is that an invitation?”
Because she wasn’t looking his way, she heard the smile in his voice instead of seeing it. “I guess it is.”
“I’m messy.”
“That’s okay. I’m strict.”
She turned in his arms, rubbing her cheek against
his chest. “This feels good.”
When she tilted her head back to look at his face, his expression warmed her heart and chased away her fears. “It feels incredible.”
* * *
“Although I was on a training placement in Anchorage, my permanent job was here in Fairbanks at the emergency room where I still work. My boss at the time was Monique Taylor. She left a few years ago to work for a private health care company. We’re not close friends, but I know where she lives.” Vigo followed a road close to the Chena River. “At least this is where she was still living a few months ago. One of the people we both worked with retired recently and Monique threw a party for him.”
“She sounds like a good boss.”
“She was.” Vigo turned right, taking the route he remembered from last time he had come this way. “Firm, but fair. If you got it wrong, she told you straight. Monique also knew how to give praise and she built up a good team.” He recalled the woman who had helped him crawl out of that dark pit of despair. He would always feel a sense of gratitude to her for understanding what he needed without judging him. “I’m not sure there were many people to whom I could have taken my problems and been treated with the same respect.”
He drove to the end of a long winding road lined with towering pine trees. Monique was fortunate to live in one of the most prime locations in Fairbanks, although her home was located at some distance from her nearest neighbors. He remembered wondering the last time he’d visited why a woman living alone would chose such a remote location. But the beautiful log cabin fronted the river, and he supposed the views made up for the seclusion. Or maybe the remoteness was the attraction. He didn’t know Monique well enough to say.