by J. D. Tyler
She hesitated. “You can stay if you want.”
“I want to take you up on that, believe me. But I think you need your space to process everything,” he said ruefully. “I’m not going to rush you.”
“You are quite a man, Micah Chase.” She beamed at him, then gave him a long hug. When she finally pulled back, she said, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
“Count on it.”
His wolf was howling piteously as he drove away from her house, and he agreed. The last thing he wanted to do was leave, but he knew he’d made the right decision. He didn’t want to rush her any more than the mating urge would necessitate. He wanted her happy. Comfortable. If that meant moving at her pace, so be it.
The hour was late, or early, depending on one’s viewpoint, when he arrived back at the compound. Only a couple of the Pack were up and about in the hallways, and he said good night to John and Sariel as he passed by. He didn’t think those two ever slept.
But he did, deeply.
And blessedly without nightmares, for the first time in weeks.
* * *
It was a damned shame the peace didn’t last.
A buzzing on Micah’s nightstand woke him at oh-fuck-thirty, and he blinked blearily at the offending cell phone, trying to assemble his tired brain into some sort of order. The damn racket stopped, and he almost fell back asleep—until it started again.
“For shit’s sake,” he grumbled, fumbling for the stupid thing. His greeting was less than pleasant. “What do you fucking want?” There were a couple of beats of silence.
“You, in my office,” Nick’s deceptively calm voice told him.
Ah, crap. “Sorry, boss. Didn’t know it was you. Did we move up the meeting?”
“No, it’s still at eight. Something else has come up, though, so get dressed and come straight here.”
“Got it, be there ASAP.”
After hanging up, he checked the time on his phone and groaned. Barely past seven. What in the ever-loving hell was so important they had to meet before the meeting? Had some of his tests come back? No, it was too soon. Plus, Mac would’ve called instead.
Speculation would get him nowhere. Jumping in the shower, he made it quick. No way was he meeting the commander smelling like hours-old sex and his mate. After dressing in jeans and a T-shirt, then pulling on his shitkickers, he started off for Nick’s office.
Once there, he was surprised to find Sheriff Deveraux waiting with Nick. The two men stood, offering their hands, which he shook. Then Nick gestured for him to take the second empty seat across from the sheriff.
“Somebody want to tell me what’s going on?” Micah looked between the two men, but their faces were unreadable.
Deveraux spoke first, his tone gruff but not hostile. Yet. With the sheriff, you never knew when that could change. “Hello, Micah. I’m here on business, unfortunately. There was a woman murdered at a campsite last night just a few miles from here.”
“Oh, wow. I’m sorry to hear that. But what does that have to do with me?”
“Where were you last night and into this morning, between ten p.m. and three a.m.?”
His eyes widened. “Are you serious? What is this? Am I a suspect?”
“Just answer the question, Micah,” Nick said.
“I was with my mate! I mean, we haven’t bonded yet, but she’s my mate and we were together the whole time. I took her to dinner, and then we went for a run in the woods not far from here.”
The sheriff glanced at Nick. “That explains why your car was spotted by one of my deputies last night, parked on Dublin Road. Will she back up your story?”
“Of course. She has no reason not to. But why are you tagging me for this?” he asked in confusion. And then horribly, he knew, and he gaped at Nick. “Jesus Christ. This is because of what happened with Noah? You think I snapped. You honestly think I could kill an innocent woman?” That hurt more than he could have believed possible.
“No, not really,” Nick denied, shaking his head. “But when Jesse came to me this morning about your car being spotted, I had to ask.”
The sheriff spoke up. “It does look pretty suspicious, the woman being torn up and you being a wolf. You were the only one on staff who was away from the compound during those hours.”
“But I’m far from the only predator out there, paranormal or otherwise, Sheriff,” Micah said grimly. “I didn’t do this.”
“Then you won’t mind if I have some tests run on the inside of your car.”
“Unbelievable.” Micah ran a hand through his hair. “Do you have a warrant?”
“I can get one.”
“On what grounds? You know what? Fine, test the car. I’ve got nothing to hide. But for what it’s worth, John and Sariel can vouch for what time I came home and what condition I was in. I said good night to both of them, together.”
“All right.” The sheriff nodded. “Let’s get them into another room.”
Micah stopped himself from rolling his eyes, just barely. He knew Jesse was just doing his job, but it still upset him to have anyone think he could murder an innocent woman. And while the sheriff was wasting his time here, a killer was going free. That didn’t sit well, either.
Nick called John and Sariel into a different room in the office area. Then he and Deveraux went and talked to them while Micah waited. A few minutes later the men returned and the sheriff spoke.
“They said you came home a bit after three, as you said. They also reported that you smelled of the outdoors, sex, and of a certain local female—not the murder victim. They would’ve scented blood on you, and there wasn’t any.”
“That’s because I’m telling the truth,” Micah said, tired.
“I believe you, but I’m going to test the car now just to rule it out. Once a question has been raised, it’s best to follow through.”
“I understand.” He did. It just sucked.
Deveraux slid a file off Nick’s desk and opened it, retrieving a few photos. “Do you recognize the woman in these pictures?”
Micah took them and studied them closely. The first two were of a smiling blond woman of about thirty-five, candid shots taken in front of a lake. The rest were of the murder scene, showing the poor woman’s gruesome demise. His stomach lurched, though he’d seen many atrocities in the last few years. It wasn’t something he thought he’d ever get used to.
“No, I’ve never seen her around before. Tourist?”
“Probably. She was camping alone, which is unusual. No ID, but it was likely stolen.”
“I hope you find her family, give them some closure. And the bastard who did that to her, too.”
“Thanks. Me, too.”
By the time he left, Deveraux seemed satisfied that Micah was not his perp, not that he’d ever really believed it deep down. But he had to follow up his lead on the car, and once Micah had gotten over the shock of being questioned, he couldn’t blame the man.
Micah was tired, but once that was over, there was no time to go back to his quarters and get more sleep. Worse, he was edgy, anxious. He hadn’t taken his nighttime dose of myst because of his date with Jacee, and he’d forgotten to take it when he got home before falling into bed. Now he was jonesing, bad.
Ducking around a corner, he held up his hands. They were shaking, his heart racing, and he felt as if he was on the verge of a panic attack. Quickly, he dug in his front pocket and extracted the bottle, removing one pill and dry-swallowing it. Just one. His morning dose, and not one pill more. He had to wean himself off or end up in that damn hospital room.
The dose took the edge off, but not nearly enough. The meeting about fighting groups of rogue vampires, demons, goblins, and such was almost more than he could stand. They’d fought those beasts a thousand times, and he couldn’t fathom why they had to talk every fucking thing to death.
“Why don’t we form a knitting club and have raffle baskets, too,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
“I’m sorry, what?” Nick’s voi
ce from the front of the conference room was irritated.
“Raffle baskets,” Micah said loudly. “Why don’t we have fuckin’ raffle baskets? It’ll make these meetings more fun! The women can bake cookies, too.”
What the fuck am I saying? Shoot me now!
“Hey, I don’t bake, asswipe,” his sister shot back. “Bake ’em yourself and we’ll eat ’em.”
Several of the team snickered, and he looked up to find Nick glaring. “Sorry, boss.”
“As I was saying . . . ,” Nick went on, shooting looks Micah’s way now and then.
Micah tuned him out anyway, because nothing short of a miracle was going to get him to pay attention today. He was a walking disaster, and struggling to hide it. When the meeting was over, he skipped training and went straight back to his quarters. He’d hear about it later, but he had to have more sleep.
As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out. His dreams were shadowy. Uneasy. He was searching everywhere, never quite finding what he was looking for. And something was stalking him. Remaining just out of sight, waiting for the chance to strike. Finally, at some point, the dreams quieted and he slept better.
A knocking noise woke him some time later. Squinting, he saw that it was past noon. He’d missed lunch, and he still wasn’t that hungry. He thought about not answering the door, but the determination of the person on the other side was greater than his will to ignore it. He answered.
And immediately wish he’d resisted. Rowan marched inside, and from the look on her face, this was not a conversation he wanted to have.
“Nick is seriously pissed at you.”
“What’s new lately?”
“You mouth off during the meeting and disrespect him in front of everyone? Then you have the gall not to show up for training? What’s wrong with you?”
“I wasn’t feeling well. I needed sleep.” That much was true.
“Okay, even so. What about this morning? Raffles and cookies, for cryin’ out loud. Have you lost your mind?”
“Probably.”
“I’m being serious here!”
“Me, too.”
Taking his hand, she led him over to the sofa and sat him down. As soon as he saw her expression soften and her prickly side retreat behind genuine concern, he knew he was toast. They were going to have a talk, and nothing would dissuade his sister until he gave in.
“I’m scared, little brother. You’re the only biological family I have left, and I love you.” She squeezed his hand. “Tell me what’s going on with the meds. What did Mac say?”
“Does everyone know my business?”
“No. But I’m your sister, and I reserve the right to poke my nose in whether you like it or not. Tell me, please.”
It was the quiet please that got him. A demanding sister he could ignore, but not that tearful worry. “Damn. Might as well let you in on everything, since chances are you’ll find out anyway.” He blew out a breath. “Mac is having me wean myself off the myst.”
“But that’s good, right? You don’t want to be on it forever.”
“It’s good that I’m getting off of it, but not the reason why. In my case, my system isn’t handling the drug very well. I have to get clear of it.”
Alarm had her sitting up poker-straight, fear in her eyes. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”
“You’ve noticed the mood swings? Like when I jumped on Noah, and today at the meeting?”
“Who hasn’t?”
“Exactly. You know that’s not me, sis. I don’t know if I can blame it all on the drug, but I feel like it’s eating at me, making me so edgy I can’t think, corroding my grip on my control every single day. The pills are giving me nosebleeds and headaches, too. Tanking my appetite.”
Easing free of her grip, he stood and paced his living room as he continued. “But I’m addicted to them. They’re not supposed to be habit-forming for shifters, but myst is a new drug, so obviously the doctors don’t know everything. Maybe it’s because of whatever Gene Bowman did to me in his lab, fucking with my blood and shit. Zan spotted something strange, remember?”
“Oh, Micah.”
For a few seconds, he thought she’d actually cry, and Rowan never cried. He didn’t think he could take that if she did. But she held in the tears, likely for his sake.
“What happens if you can’t wean yourself off them?” she asked.
He sighed. “Mac will admit me to Sanctuary until my body is clear of the drug.”
“Then what? Will you be able to cope with your nightmares and the memories returning?”
“I think so, eventually. I am better, and something’s happened that will definitely speed along my healing.”
“Really? What’s that?”
“I’ve met my Bondmate.” He smiled at his sister, hoping at least one person would be happy for him when she found out who his mate was.
Rowan shot to her feet. “Really? Oh, my God!” Rushing over, she swept him up in a bone-crushing hug. “That’s great news! Who’s the lucky lady?”
“It’s Jacee.”
“Jacee?”
“The bartender from the Grizzly.”
There went the ecstatic smile. Just fell right off her face to drop like a rock at their feet. “She’s your mate? Oh, no. Micah, really?”
“Okay, that’s it,” he said, anger replacing the optimism of moments before. “You’re going to tell me why the hell I keep getting that reaction about Jacee, and I’m not going to take no for an answer.”
“Wait. You told other people before you told me?” She had the gall to look wounded.
“That’s just the way it happened. I was going to tell you as soon as possible, but it’s been sudden for me, and I’m still processing the idea myself. Now, what’s the deal with the weird reactions I’m getting? Out with it.”
“You might want to be sitting for this.”
“I’ll stand, thanks.”
“Promise you won’t get upset.”
“Began every horrible conversation ever. Rowan, I swear—”
“Jacee had a lover before you,” she said carefully. “They weren’t serious or anything, before you flip your shit, bro.”
Inside him, his wolf growled, but he forced the beast down. “So? Most people have been with someone by the time they’re in their twenties, sis. That’s normal.”
“Yeah, well, keep that in mind when I tell you the guy was Jax.” She watched him, waiting for the explosion.
Jax. “Our Jax?”
“You know another one?”
He tried to grasp the image of Jax and Jacee. His mate and his Pack brother. Together. Meeting for a rendezvous, fucking like a pair of horny animals, which was exactly what they had been at the time. And was sorry he did.
His breathing was harsh, his wolf howling in rage. His fangs burst through his gums, claws through his fingertips.
“Micah! It’s in the past,” Rowan said, raising her voice and grabbing his shirt. “It happened while you were in captivity and was over between them as soon as Jax met Kira.”
“I’m going to fucking kill him.” His voice wasn’t even human anymore.
“Get hold of yourself! Mac will put you in solitary!”
Distantly, he understood that. But the penalty for losing it was a fading concept once his beast took over. Jax Law had touched his mate. Fucked her. There was no force on earth that was going to stop him from making the wolf pay for that transgression.
Turning, he shook off his sister’s hold and bolted for the door. Her shout followed, as well as the thud of her boots behind him, but she wasn’t nearly fast enough to catch him. Bursting through his door so hard it came off its hinges and smashed into the wall, he sped down the hall, looking for his target. He had no care for the startled looks the other pack members and staff gave him as he ran past, sniffing out the other wolf.
Where was he? At last he caught a fresh whiff of Jax’s scent and trailed it to the recreation room. He barely spared a glance to note that some
were eating their lunches and watching television in there, others playing games. He looked only at Jax, who was playing Ping-Pong with John and laughing, having a grand time.
The arrogant, whoring son of a bitch.
At that exact moment, Aric glanced up from his video game. “Micah? What the hell?” Then, “Oh, shit. Someone told him.”
Aric threw down the game controller and shot to his feet, body tense.
“Yeah, Rowan, who has bigger balls than anyone in this room,” he growled. He fixed his murderous gaze on Jax, who finally looked up at him and frowned in confusion. “Bigger than yours, you piece of Sluagh shit.”
Jax’s eyes widened. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You have to ask?” As Micah stalked forward, bodies scrambled out of the way.
Someone said, “Holy crap. Somebody do something.”
“Call Mac and Nick,” Micah heard Aric order, his voice urgent.
His wolf didn’t care.
Jax stared at him, setting down his Ping-Pong paddle slowly. “I guess I do. What’s this about?”
“Jacee.” Her name emerged as a rough snarl.
“From the bar?” Jax’s brows drew together, and he eyed Micah warily. “We had a thing for a while, but—”
“She’s my mate.”
The stunned expression on Jax’s face, the knowledge that he was in deep trouble, was priceless. But Micah didn’t have time to enjoy it before he lost control of his wolf and shifted completely, launching himself at the other man. Jax had barely started to shift into his wolf form by the time Micah leapt across the Ping-Pong table, and they hit the floor hard in a tangle of limbs.
Clothing was shredded and fur flew. His wolf was fully in control now. He demanded blood from the one who’d dared to defile his mate. The one who was supposed to be his Pack brother, his friend.
Traitor.
They rolled, barking and snarling, crashing into furniture. The brown wolf went for the gray’s throat, but the gray was fast, twisting out of the way. Micah’s enemy made only defensive moves, but no attempt to harm him in return. This angered him even more, beyond reason.
Doubling his effort, he tried to pin the gray wolf and managed to sink his teeth into one muscled shoulder. The taste of blood spurred him on as the gray cried out—