by Unknown
"I don't —"
"You're about to pass out," she said under her breath, so the pack wouldn't hear. No use telegraphing his weaknesses. Then she raised her voice and slapped his shoulder. "Go upstairs and make sure your mate is okay; we can handle the cops."
When Rafe tried to object, she gave him the no-nonsense look he recognized from their mother, and he knew he'd already lost. So he concentrated on striding toward the back hall as some of his guys cheered and clapped, every inch of him cold and clammy with desperate adrenaline and panic. She'd almost been injured. Could have been killed. And all because of those fucking rogue wolves.
He used the handrail to haul himself up the last few steps, and fell through the door into the shared apartment. Meadow looked up in panic as he walked in, and Smith rose from where he sat on the coffee table in front of her, clearly trying to explain. Smith frowned. "Young man, you don't look well."
"I'm fine," he said, then the ground rushed up and everything went dark.
Chapter 8
After all hell broke loose, everything got blurry and confused. It looked like wolves raced into the bar and then suddenly Rafe was also a wolf, and everyone else turned into wolves, and they fought until blood spattered everything. When one lunged at me, I tried to climb over the bar as the wolf I thought was Rafe skidded in between me and the snarling beast. There might have been a lion.
And then Uncle Smith stood up and started glowing, raised his hands, and all the bad wolves just fell down. Everyone started turning human again and then the bar filled with naked men and a couple of women, including Rafe's sister, who had a lot of piercings. A lot.
I definitely shouldn't have sipped that beer.
My cheeks burned when Rafe approached, naked, covered in open wounds and blood, and I tried to focus on his face. Whatever he said passed me by in a weird roaring, even though I focused on his mouth and tried to read his lips, but nothing seemed to work. It was only when Smith took my arm and helped me up the stairs in the back hallway that I started to feel normal. By the time we reached a large living room behind a simple door and I collapsed on a battered leather sofa in the middle of the room, I was almost okay with having seen people turn into animals. If that was what actually happened. I crossed my fingers in the hope that it was just another hallucination. I wouldn't mind a break in rehab for exhaustion if it meant all of that craziness hadn't happened and there really weren't people who turned into animals.
Smith didn't say anything for a long time as he fussed over me, helping prop my cast up on the arm of the sofa and a couple of pillows, and retrieved ice packs from the small kitchen across from the living room. Then he eased onto the coffee table next to the couch and took a deep breath as he looked at me. "Well, today has been somewhat more eventful than I planned. We'll wait up here for a bit, at least until the police depart, then I'll take you back to your apartment."
"You don't seem surprised by this. By — them. What they turned into." I tried to form complete sentences but my thoughts clicked along too slowly. For as much time as I spent in the new age book store, reading tarot cards for tourists and some regulars, it never occurred to me to think that that sort of magic actually existed in the world. "And you — glowed."
"Mmm. Yes. I supposed I did." He frowned, and for a second, his pupils grew vertical, like a cat's. I held my breath. He didn't deny it. He agreed. He'd seen it all too. Smith rubbed his jaw and finally laughed a little. "I'd hoped not to have this conversation with you for a long time, Meadow, if at all. I am not — entirely human. There are many people in this city who are not human — shifters, some witches, different sorts of fae."
"F-fae?" It could still all be a product of the pain meds from the hospital. That sip of beer could have triggered some weird interaction and caused me to hallucinate all of this, including Smith telling me he wasn't human. My mother always said I had an over-active imagination. "What do you mean?"
"Fae, what most people call faerie. There are many types of fae." Half of his mouth curled up in something close to a smile. "But we can discuss that a bit later, if you're interested."
"Who are you?" I asked in a bare whisper. Everything I knew about the world grew shaky and uncertain. It was worse than the first time I'd ever told a psychiatrist the things I heard and saw, and I saw the expression of someone who really, truly thought I was crazy. My hands trembled as I brushed hair out of my face. "What are you?"
"I am your Uncle Smith," he said, catching my hand in his and squeezing my fingers. "Dear Meadow, there is a lot I need to tell you. You are not entirely human either."
Everything in me went still. Not human? I stared at him, trying to come up with something to say. Anything. But nothing worked. I might have sat there for hours, frozen in disbelief, but the door creaked open.
I bolted upright, ready to flee if another wolf came charging up the stairs, but instead Rafe tottered around the corner and into the living room. He looked terrible — gray-faced, breathing unevenly and with a weird whistling noise, and blood drenching almost every visible inch of him. Smith got to his feet and immediately reached for him, but Rafe stared at me with such intensity my heart skipped. He took a single step, reaching out for me, and fell flat on his face.
Smith cursed under his breath and shook his head, saying something about stupid young men, and he caught Rafe's arm. He dragged him up and managed to support Rafe, draping his arm over his shoulders, and nodded at one of the doors that led away from the living room. "That's his room. Would you open the door for me, Meadow?"
Right. I unstuck myself from the couch, though part of me remained riveted to the "you're not human" conversation, and limped over to the door. I turned the light on and hurried to the bed, dragging the blankets and sheets back until Smith could lower Rafe on his back onto the clean, cream-colored sheets. I flushed just at being in Rafe's room, and jumped when Smith glanced around and headed back toward the living room. "He should be healing faster. We might need help. But for now, I'll get the first aid kit. Just keep him quiet, Meadow."
Keep him quiet. How the hell would I do that? The man was unconscious, his chest rising and falling in bare increments, and I was too scared to touch him. I hated blood. I really hated blood. And I hated seeing Rafe — gorgeous, intimidating, strong Rafe — helpless as a newborn kitten and slowly bleeding his life away. For the first time ever, I really hoped it was all a product of my imagination.
I swallowed trepidation and sat on the bed next to him, trying not to notice the furnishings and the private details that told me more about him than he'd had a chance to himself. The furniture was simple but clearly quality, reinforced by the softness of the sheets. They had to be a ridiculous thread-count. It looked like the kind of bed where you could nap all afternoon. Even what I could see through the open door to his closet was neat and tidy. Orderly, like he'd said.
He wasn't nearly so scary while unconscious. My fingers trembled as I touched his shoulder, surprised at the burning heat in his skin, and I jumped as Smith reappeared. He dropped a large black bag on the bed next to Rafe and started unloading supplies. He tossed me gauze and bandages and antibacterial cream, and said, "Start on that side."
We worked in silence, starting with Rafe's chest, then rolling him to his side so Smith could bandage his back. I held Rafe propped up, touching his face, and almost dropped him and fell off the bed when he moved. Rafe's hand slid over the sheets, searching for something, and he groaned. Smith frowned at me as he tried to attach an enormous bandage to a wicked series of claw marks on Rafe's lower back. "Talk to him, Meadow."
I cleared my throat and tried to think of something that didn't sound stupid. Rafe's eyes opened and searched the room, unfocused and desperate, and the breath rattled in his throat. He tried to sit up, tried to move, and I panicked. I caught his face in my hands. "Hey. Don't move. Just relax. We're almost done."
"Meadow," he said, a rough exhale, and he went limp again. But he didn't struggle. His hand found mine and squeezed, and I f
lushed even more as I squeezed back. Even if he did turn into a wolf, he'd tried to protect me. He'd jumped between me and at least two other wolves, and gotten injured as a result. It was my fault he lay on that bed, bleeding.
My vision blurred and I couldn't breathe, choking on tears and guilt. My fault.
Rafe groaned and tried to lift his head, reaching for me with his other hand. "It's okay."
I laughed, though it was a little teary, and I touched his face. He was the one injured and hurting, and he tried to reassure me. I patted his cheek, flushing to think that Uncle Smith sat right there, smiling to himself, as I sort of flirted with Rafe. "I'm sorry you got hurt, Rafe."
"Just a scratch," he said, a husky breath of sound. His eyes remained closed but a hint of a smile touched his mouth. "Worth it."
"Who were they? Who were those — wolves?" I tripped over the word, still not wanting to admit that there might actually be people in the world who turned into animals. And that I sat next to one and held his hand and tried not to picture him gloriously naked. Fine-boned and strapped with muscle. I shivered.
Rafe's expression tightened and he shook his head. "Don't worry. I'll handle it."
"There is a rival pack outside the city. They've been trying to take over the O'Shea pack territory for a month or so now. No doubt this was another attempt," Smith said, taping the last bandage across Rafe's side and back. He gestured at me and I helped ease Rafe to his back. My uncle eyed me for a moment, then arched an eyebrow. "There are several wounds on his legs that I should treat. Keep your eyes forward, young lady."
I laughed but my cheeks caught fire. Rafe cracked an eye open and glared at Smith. "Don't embarrass her."
I winced as I tried to adjust my leg and cast, and bit my lip to keep from complaining as the meds started to wear off. My ankle throbbed again, getting worse, but it paled in comparison to what Rafe no doubt suffered. But I concentrated on Rafe's face as Smith removed his sweatpants and started to bandage the long slices and gouges in his legs.
Rafe winced and reached for my hand again, sighing when he finally captured it. He took a deep breath. "BadCreek has never been this violent. Usually they're underhanded and sneaky. A full assault on the bar, on a Friday night, when they know most of the pack will be here, is absurd. It's suicide."
"They went straight for you," Smith said, and I resisted the urge to turn and check his progress as tape tore and bandage wrappers crinkled. "If they knocked you off, they'd stand a much better chance of taking over the pack. Once the pack is beheaded and leaderless, they could probably cultivate one of your betas to help them take over peacefully. A smart strategy, if they'd succeeded."
I tried to concentrate through the increasing pain in my ankle and the odd fluttering in my stomach from the way Rafe's hand periodically tightened on mine, as if reassuring himself that he still touched me. None of what they said made sense. A rival pack? Targeting an alpha?
Smith cleared his throat. "All done."
Rafe exhaled. "It wasn't a smart strategy."
"No kidding," I said under my breath, and he smiled again.
But he also forced an eye open to search for Smith. "They forgot about Ruby. And about Carter. They hadn't planned on him. And even if they'd managed to finish me off, Ruby is still alpha so the pack would have continued under her leadership."
"So it seems." Smith frowned, rubbing his jaw. "We should probably gather the Council."
"Council?" I finally had to ask, my brain hurting too much from trying to follow them. "What Council?"
"There's a Council for all the alphas in the city," Rafe said, and his hand rested on my leg, just above the cast. "Ruby and I are on it, so is Carter's brother. Smith is a consulting member. If any issues come up among the shifters, the Council tries to handle it before it gets out of hand. But BadCreek has gotten out of hand."
"Very much so. They've endangered my life, as well as my niece's." Smith's expression hardened as he packed up the first aid bag. He looked scarier than I could ever remember seeing him.
"Did any of them escape before we barred the door?" Rafe lifted his head, looking somewhat more clear-eyed. I leaned to place another pillow under his head, and flushed more as he smiled at me. Holy hell, that man had a beautiful smile.
"I don't know," Smith said. "We can probably check the cameras outside, but we have to assume at least one was able to get in and back out again. Why?"
Rafe's hand tightened on my wrist, then ghosted over my leg, just above my knee. "Because they saw me defending Meadow. They know she's important."
I blinked, then shook my head. "I'm not important. What are you — what do you mean?"
Smith pinched the bridge of his nose, and his words came out low and cold. "Damn it, Rafe. This is exactly what I warned you about. You've endangered her."
"I protected her," Rafe said, going up on his elbows as fury animated him. The bandages gapped and bunched, and more than one spotted with blood. "It's not my fault that —"
"You claimed her in front of them." Smith's eyes did the weird thing again and his hands started to look incandescent. "You fought for her. Now she's marked, and they will use her as a pawn against you. She's in danger, and even I may not be able to protect her."
"She's my mate." Rafe snarled and his grip crushed my thigh. "She won't be in danger. I will protect her."
"She's in danger precisely because she's your mate." Smith's teeth grew smaller and pointier, and my heart jumped to my throat.
I couldn't breathe. Mate? I lurched to my feet and almost fell as the cast tangled with my good leg. "What the hell are you two talking about?"
"Everyone take a deep breath," someone said from the doorway, and when I looked up, Ruby stood there with her arms folded and the giant blonde guy behind her. Ruby frowned as she edged past Smith, though she gave him plenty of room, and held out her hand to me. "Come on. Let's go sit in the living room before we both drown in all the testosterone."
Rafe growled as he kept a tight grip on my hand and my breath caught as Ruby's eyes got a dangerous glint. I suddenly knew what a chew toy felt like, caught between two dogs. Smith's eyes darkened and a sudden static filled the room. I braced for the lightning strike.
Chapter 9
Rafe waited for Smith to strike him dead, but Carter cleared his throat and eased around Ruby to smile at Meadow. "Rafe, I'm sure Meadow's leg hurts, doesn't it? Yes? Well, we can't have you laying down here, the sheets are a mess. Ruby and Rafe will let go of your arms," and the lion paused, frowning at the siblings, then his easy smile returned as his gold eyes turned to Meadow. "There we go. Come with me and we'll put your foot up while these three sort things out."
And by the significant look Carter gave them, he expected them to sort everything out like adults. Meadow took a shaky breath, eyes wide with fear, and hobbled after Carter into the living room. Rafe caught a glimpse of the lion helping her sit on the couch with her cast elevated, but then Ruby kicked the door shut and rounded on him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"She's my mate," Rafe said, clenching his fists in the sheets. His favorite Egyptian cotton sheets, ruined with blood and crap. Those fucking wolves. "I'll protect her."
"You'll try," Ruby said. "But right now you're not in any condition to protect yourself, much less her. So suck back the ego, hero, and consider the best thing for your mate right now."
"The best thing is being with me," he snapped. The wolf wanted to charge into the other room and curl up next to her, regardless of what Smith and Ruby said. The investigator stood with folded arms near the door, gray eyes oddly more yellow with flashes of silver. It still felt like lightning would strike him dead, but Rafe didn't care.
Ruby ran her hands through her hair and scowled at him. "You're being a stubborn dick, Rafe. The girl has no idea what's going on. She just saw an attack by wolves, and she didn't even know shifters existed. Mr. Sparkle over here says she might be in danger, and I'm inclined to agree. BadCreek has zero qualms about kidnapping shifter k
ids, so they damn well won't have any issues with torturing or killing your mate to get you to surrender yourself. Take a breath and think about it, jackass."
Mr. Sparkle. Smith did not appreciate that, sliding Ruby a look that should have sent sparks off all of her piercings. But she ignored him and instead leveled an impervious look at Rafe.
The wolf didn't want to think rationally. The wolf wanted their mate. He wanted her in bed with Rafe, safe and comfortable and warm. Rafe's teeth ached as he clenched his jaw. Pain throbbed through his chest as the wounds continued to bleed. "I have to explain to her. I don't want her to leave unless I can explain everything to her."
"I will explain," Smith said. "I will take her home and make sure she understands. Staying here is not an option."
"We have a guest room." Ruby held up her hands when Smith glared at her, and she retreated a bit closer to the door. "I'm just saying. Does she live alone? Can she stay with you, Smith? If they catch her alone, I don't see it ending well for her — not with a cast and being unable to shift." Ruby eyed the fae, and her words came out slow and even, as if she didn't want to piss him off by asking a question they all wanted to know the answer to. "Unless she's some kind of non-human who would be able to defend herself? By glowing and making everyone in the room drop dead at the exact same moment?"
Rafe fervently wished Meadow could do the same sort of tricks that Smith could, or even Eloise, Carter's sister-in-law and a half-medusa. At least Eloise could paralyze anyone who tried to kill her. Meadow wouldn't even be able to run away, not with that damn cast.
The investigator scowled at them both, but eventually the anger faded from his gaze. "She is not what I am. Meadow is a muse. She inspires others, and can sometimes hear whispers of possibilities from the future."
Ruby's eyebrows arched. "She can tell the future?"
"Not at all." Smith sighed and turned to pace the short distance from the door to the far wall. When he turned, he'd regained the implacable expression he usually wore. "She gets flashes of possibilities, that's all. Nothing is guaranteed. The future depends on millions of decisions in fractions of a second, all of them dependent on sentient beings. Among others. So it is impossible to know or understand or even guess what the future will hold, but as a muse, she can guess. And her guesses will be far better than any human’s. Unfortunately, she grew up in an environment that stifled that gift. If she were aware of her ability and trained, she might be able to inspire anyone who wished her harm with other courses of action. But otherwise she has no defensive capabilities."