“You ready? We need to go check on our charges,” Rogue told him. “Just you and me. Leave Jez to watch over Gillian.”
It was the right thing to do, but Jinx would rather walk barefoot over hot coals. “Maybe tomorrow night.”
“I don’t want to do this any more than you do. But I can’t wait anymore. I’m connected to this. Those hounds didn’t kill me because they recognized me as part of you,” Rogue explained. “These markings make things call to me. I don’t know if they’re beacons . . . or if I’m being controlled by them.”
“Jinx, let me go with you,” Gillian said.
“Too dangerous—you can’t see ghosts.”
“I can see you.”
He looked at her incredulously and she continued, “You saved me. I’m returning the favor.”
He opened his mouth to tell her he didn’t need saving, but the lie didn’t come out. “You can’t help me with the monsters.”
“I can guard you while you’re vulnerable.”
“You want to be my bodyguard?”
“It’s what the Dire female wolves are. We take care of our mates, especially the warrior women. You told me that, but I feel it, here. Let me take care of you.”
How long had it been since anyone said that to him? His Dire brothers always would—that was a given. But Jinx was far more used to being the protection than the protected. Wasn’t sure he even knew how to let himself be vulnerable.
“The best part is that no one will suspect it. They wouldn’t know my strength or speed.”
“You can’t do anything in human form that will give you away.”
“I’ll have to be your secret superhero,” she whispered into his neck before she nipped it.
“You two need a room in an apartment far from mine,” Jez muttered from the front seat and Jinx ignored him.
“You can protect me,” he said.
“That’s a gift—I accept it with great honor.”
“I’ll watch both of you,” Jez nodded. “Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”
“And who’ll watch you, deadhead?” Jinx asked and Rogue’s voice answered, “Me,” and then added, “This is becoming one big circle jerk.”
“Rogue . . . you don’t have to. . . .”
“Gotta know how bad it is. Better to jump in with both feet,” Rogue said quietly.
“It’s bad . . . and worse,” Jinx told him as the truck made its way toward Pinewood Cemetery. They drove through the iron gates with guns loaded with rock salt. Holy water. Each of them held iron.
When they got out, Jinx made a salt circle around them and the truck; this way, they could get inside and stay there if things got bad enough.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Rogue told him.
“Besides the fact that I’m never letting you go back to hell . . . I keep thinking that we could use these fears to eradicate the trappers forever,” Jinx admitted.
“And then what? The more these things feed, the more they want,” Rogue pointed out.
“I know, you’re right. We have to get them back inside. Locked up someplace tight.”
“There are definitely places in hell they could go. Hell’s expanded immensely since fears were created,” Rogue told him.
“I don’t think they’ll just go if we ask.” And they were right back at the beginning again.
“Something’s here,” Rogue said, his voice choked. The markings on his face glowed and he rubbed them almost absently as he moved around inside of the circle looking out into the night.
The ghosts moved around, waving to get Jinx’s attention. “Do you see any of yours?”
“Nothing,” his twin said hollowly as the hellhounds ran toward them, making the ground shake.
“What is that?” Gillian asked and then scented the air. “Hellhounds.”
“Bingo,” Jez said. “And here comes their charges.”
The black and gray smoke twisted and rose from over the graves, racing toward the circle at alarming speed. They stopped right before them and hovered.
“I hate this part,” Jez muttered.
Just then, Jinx dropped to his knees and Gillian dropped next to him.
“What is it, Jinx?” Gillian asked and when he spoke, his voice sounded hollow and odd, even to his own ears.
“The hellhounds aren’t just to protect me,” he told them. “They’re to keep me from getting too close to the monsters released from purgatory. I’m locked out. And it’s only a matter of time before the hellhounds rebel.”
* * *
They’d gotten back in the truck and out of the cemetery after Jinx told the hellhounds to keep the fears under control. They seemed to still be obeying but how long that would last was any wolf’s bet.
Now, they were up on the roof of the apartment building, with Rogue and Jez on one side and he and Gillian on the other.
“I’m so sorry, Jinx.”
“Not your fault. My father tricked me. But because the Dire ghosts fought, he was laid to a peaceful rest. What do I get?”
“When I thought I was crazy, I would’ve done anything to get away from the disease. When you gave me a way out, I was relieved.” She paused. “But you . . . you never get to walk away. You’re hunted all the time.”
He shrugged.
“You’ve got to find the good in it.”
“I help humans. In return, they try to kill us,” Jinx said, his voice tight. “I help ghosts. In return, they try to kill us.”
“You helped me and I don’t try to kill you,” she pointed out.
“Because you can’t,” he said and snorted in spite of himself. “Speaking of . . . there’s something I haven’t told you yet. I was waiting. Didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
“And now, after we know that hellhounds are protecting monsters and will eventually turn against the world, it seems like a good time?”
“Actually, yes.” He took her chin in his hand. “Your speed and strength—you know it’s not normal for a Dire. You know it’s called an ability.”
“Yep. You told me that.” He’d also listed all the other Dires’ abilities as well.
“There’s something that comes with abilities. At least it has for all of us.” He stared at her. “I told you we mated for life. But I never told you how long that life would be.”
She blinked, tilted her head. “I know you’re old. I assumed . . . a lot of years?”
“I’m immortal, Gilly. And if I’m right, so are you.”
“Immortal as in . . . I’m never going to die?” She tried to breathe but couldn’t.
“And this is why I waited to tell you.”
“If someone tries to kill me, what happens exactly?”
“You kind of die. And then you come back to life pretty quickly. It’s not painless, but it’s never permanent.”
“I gather you’ve tested the theory.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
She wondered if there was ever the possibility of a Dire with abilities not being immortal. But finding out would be akin to playing Russian roulette and she wasn’t ready to do that, not after promising Jinx she would stay safe. “I’m okay. It’s just . . . the concept of never is hard to wrap my mind around.”
“Tell me about it after you’ve lived for centuries.”
“You lived for centuries . . . with no one to love,” she murmured.
“You were worth the wait. Well worth it.”
Chapter 25
Vice heard the yelling in his sleep, assumed it was someone having good sex and ignored it. After ten minutes, he realized it was distress and that it was coming from the basement rooms where Max was being held.
Gwen checked on her several times a day, typically with Rifter. Vice seemed to set her off too much and, as he wanted nothing to do with her, that was fine by him.
But tonight, it seemed like he was the only one home. Maybe Gwen was out running with Rifter—Vice had come in early, mainly to sleep so he could forget about brooding and worrying, becau
se there was so much shit going on he couldn’t control or help with.
He missed Jinx. And Rogue. And Eydis. Had no idea how the hell they were going to deal with all of them. Was worried about Liam and the responsibilities the young king faced and, hell, Vice was charged with helping him.
When the hell had anyone decided putting him in charge of helping someone was a good idea?
Yeah, so much for sleeping off the worry. He definitely regretted coming home when he looked into the double-paned glass and saw Max doubled over. Between her legs was a puddle of water with some blood mixed in, so no, this wasn’t her faking to try to escape. This was the real thing, weeks overdue.
He stood there, watching for a few minutes. She hadn’t seen him, wasn’t really yelling for anyone in particular. She was just yelling because of the pain. Then she’d pace and double over again as another contraction hit her.
Having this baby signed her death warrant. He tried to muster up sympathy for her and failed. He’d save it all for the pup she carried.
And, it was for that pup that he unlocked the door and went to help her.
“Vice, the baby’s coming.”
“No shit.”
She ignored that, grabbed his arm and proceeded to attempt to crush it as she went through another contraction. When she finished, he managed to get her onto the bed, covered her up and noted that Gwen had already gotten a few things together for the baby.
He pulled out his phone and left Gwen a message. And Rifter. Stray and Killian too, for good measure, and the twins. Figured he’d keep Liam out of that loop, for obvious reasons.
“You’re going to have to hold out until Gwen gets here,” he told Max, who glared at him.
“This might be my first baby, but you and I both know you don’t tell a baby to stay inside.”
She looked tired. Defeated. She’d been locked in here for weeks, knowing there was no way out. She’d betrayed Liam in the worst way possible, and she’d have to pay.
“I came to terms with what’s going to happen to me weeks ago,” she told him now. “Please, just let me have the baby and then Liam can have his honor back.”
That was damned important to Vice for sure. But still, delivering a baby was not on his list of priorities or his bucket list. Ever.
“Baby!” Vice yelled in the loudest voice he could—Marine voice—but no one heard him. And Max was clawing at his arm, yelling her head off as well. “Wolves know how to do this instinctively, you know.”
“I’m not a wolf,” she bit out.
“No, you’re a traitor.” One Vice would never forgive for hurting Liam. This baby wasn’t Liam’s, would never be in line to be king. It might never even be accepted into a pack, forced to live out its days as a lone Were.
But he wouldn’t think about that now. Not when Max was delivering the goddamned baby as he watched. She’d gotten onto the floor, with towels under her and one over her legs. He guessed she was pretty much naked underneath and she lifted herself on her elbows and pushed. Vice had no choice but to throw the covers off her and see what was going on down there. And it wasn’t pretty.
“Holy hell—this could scar me for life,” he muttered. “I want to look away, but I can’t. This is just not right.”
“Bite me,” she spat.
“Not a goddamned chance.”
She screamed and then she pushed and Vice had no idea if that was the right thing or the wrong thing. He yelled for Gwen, for anyone, but no one came to help.
“I really need a smoke.” Desperately. He grabbed for a blanket and looked back again and saw that there was a baby coming out. Right now. No waiting.
“I’ll pay you to go back in until Gwen comes,” he told the head and Max glared at him. And obviously, the kid was ignoring his bribe and already refusing to obey and Vice sighed and then swore and resigned himself to this task.
Buck up, Marine.
He spread a blanket under her legs, called for Gwen again and was met with deafening silence.
“Okay, look, I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I’m just going to catch it when it comes out,” he told her and she screamed and bore down, grabbing his hand and possibly breaking bones as he put his other hand out to catch whatever came out.
But it wasn’t happening like that.
“Doesn’t this just kind of pop out?” he asked.
“No, that is not how this works,” Max said, near tears but obviously refusing to cry. He had to give her some credit—just a little—for what she was going through. “You have to guide him out or he won’t make it.”
Vice nodded, settled himself and when she pushed again, the kid’s shoulders were out and Vice was able to gently pull and help finish the birth.
“You have to clear his mouth,” Max said, showed him something she called an aspirator and told him how it worked. He did so and after a few seconds the kid yelled his head off. As he did so, Max cut the cord herself—she’d been prepared for this.
“This kid needs a bath,” Vice declared as he held it up to the light for further examination. The kid stopped yelling and just . . . watched him.
“Take him,” she said harshly. “I don’t want to see him. Take the goddamned thing out of here.”
It was similar to what his mother had told the servants when he was six, the first time his abilities had really come into play. Without another word, he cobbled the baby into the blanket, tucked it against him and walked out of the room.
* * *
It was hours of running in the woods but finally, Gwen seemed to have gotten Rifter to calm down to the point where he didn’t look like he wanted to kill everything in his path. Which was good for him, Vice supposed, as he remained on the couch, holding the sleeping baby.
He’d fed it. Changed it. Rocked it. And now he felt like a goddamned woman. Even checked a few times to make sure his dick was there.
“Something you want to tell us?” Rifter asked as Gwen said, “Max!”
“She’s downstairs, locked back up. I took the baby and left,” he explained but Gwen was already going to check on Max, calling, “I’ll be right back up to look at the baby.”
Because if Max died before Liam got to perform the ritual, it would mar his kingship. Many of the packs were waiting to give him their final approval to see how he dealt with this.
“Is it . . . healthy?” Rifter asked.
“Seems it to me.” Vice looked down at the sleeping bundle. “This place is getting crowded.”
“So you delivered this baby?” Rifter asked.
“Yeah, yeah, make your jokes,” Vice growled, but realized Rifter wasn’t making fun of him. Instead, the king looked at him with respect in his eyes. He swallowed hard and kept his eyes on the kid because he didn’t know what to say. He’d been the last person he’d thought who’d care for this kid, but hell, someone had to. For now.
Gwen came back in with another bottle of formula, said, “I gave her something to make her sleep. She’d cleaned herself up and she’s not talking.”
“She’s preparing to die,” Vice said. “That’s part of the ritual for the Weres. Twenty-four hours before it happens, you stop talking.”
“I’m going to have to check him out, okay?” Gwen asked.
“I think that’s best,” he told her, took the sleeping kid off his chest and gingerly handed him to her. But the second it lost contact with Vice, it howled. Turned purple and, dude, that was so not a good color on a pup. She handed it back to Vice and it stopped immediately.
“Oh, come on. You’re kidding me, right? I’m not the type for babies. I’m too X-rated.”
No one could deny that, but it was apparent none of them would sleep at all if that baby got moved from Vice’s arms.
He sighed in defeat for the second time that night and crawled into his bed, the kid like Velcro against him.
“You should probably name it,” she said. “It is a boy, right?”
“Definite boy parts,” Vice agreed. Hell, the kid was cute for sure.
And the truth was, Liam wouldn’t name it, and they couldn’t let Max. It would actually be too cruel for her, and Vice had done the right thing by taking the baby away.
Max hadn’t wanted to see or hear him.
“I’ll think about it,” he said. Because it had to be the right name.
“I’ll put the crib in your room,” Rifter offered.
“Seriously? You’re serious,” he said as Rifter went down to the basement. Gwen added, “I’ll bring up some bottles. I’ll help with the night feedings. . . .”
“Night feedings?” Vice grumbled. “I’m owed big-time for this one.”
Chapter 26
Liam hadn’t been able to bring himself to visit the baby. Cyd told him that Vice—Vice—had delivered him and was currently caring for the kid who screamed if anyone else touched him.
Liam had to fight his smile at that, because, although Vice wouldn’t ever see it himself, Liam could understand why that was. In the short time he’d been under the wolf’s tutelage, Vice had become a father to him. And an X-rated older brother, all at the same time. The best of all possible worlds.
And now, he just wanted to make his mentor proud of him. Get his pack behind him.
He’d seen Max only once since she’d been here, and that conversation burned in his mind.
“I’d kill myself, but that would be another dishonor to you,” Max told him. “I want to give you the honor back.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” he told her. Wondered how he’d once loved her, considered her a mate.
Humans are weak. Foolish. Vice had been teaching him that, the same way his father had been trying to drill that into his skull for years. But he’d learned firsthand, and in the most painful way possible. He hated Max for her betrayal for the past month, had burned with the desire for revenge in his gut.
And then, just as suddenly as the hatred had come, it was gone, replaced by a sense of duty and responsibility for the bigger picture. The pack. His pack.
For the kid’s honor, he had to do what pack law demanded. And that pup deserved a shot, no matter what his parents had done. If Liam had learned anything from living with the Dires, it had been that fact.
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