Rivals (Shifter Island #2)

by Carol Davis

  “How can they believe something like that?” she mumbled. “I don’t know how they could ever think–”

  Her hands wobbled badly, and she had to set the teacup down on the floor to avoid spilling tea all over herself.

  Micah was little more than arm’s reach away, sitting on the floor with his knees brought up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. To Abby he looked like a very withdrawn child, someone who’d never had a very solid grasp on the world. That didn’t mesh at all with the size of him, how tall and muscular he was. If Micah was anything, he wasn’t helpless.

  Why don’t you DO something?? she wanted to shout at him.

  Of course, she could make the same demand of herself. Of Granny Sara. Of Aaron’s grieving parents—and of the unconscious Luca. If Luca would only wake up, she thought furiously, he could answer everyone’s questions. He could tell the elders that his brother wasn’t guilty of anything.

  At home, there were lawyers. Was there such a thing here?

  She remembered Aaron saying something about an arbitrator, which seemed to mean that some things were discussed logically. That evidence was gathered and presented in some way. That these people didn’t indulge in frontier justice.

  If that was true, who should she appeal to?

  Who should she beg to help her?

  When Sara moved into her line of sight to pick up the teacup off the floor, Abby said in a choked voice, “I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. I don’t understand how this is happening. How they can–”

  Head still bent, Micah made a grumbling sound.

  Granny Sara glanced at him, then shook her head. She took the cup into her little kitchen area and puttered around there, moving some things from place to place, none of it seeming very useful or necessary.

  After a couple of minutes Abby struggled to her feet and went to join the older woman; she felt that if she sat in the chair for even a few seconds longer, her brain would explode. But before she could say anything, her eyes filled with tears.

  Sara held out a small towel, indicating that Abby could wipe her eyes with it.

  “The bond is a complicated thing,” Sara said quietly. “It’s like–” She smiled, then lowered her voice a bit. “Like the surge of hormones when you’re pregnant. The men would laugh about it, except that it happens to them too. It can be overwhelming. Hard to understand. Harder to accept.”

  She meant that as a comfort, Abby understood, but the words had an entirely different effect.

  “Overwhelming?” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “Overwhelming in a way that would cause you to attack someone that you wouldn’t normally hurt?”

  Sara grimaced.

  “Well?” Abby pressed.

  “I suppose it’s possible. If the wolf felt that there was a serious threat to his—or her—mate. I don’t know that it’s ever happened.”

  “But it’s possible.”

  Sara didn’t answer—but that was answer enough.

  This time, when she finally managed to surrender to sleep, Abby wasn’t sure she wanted Aaron to show up. Her conversation with Sara had shaken her badly, and she wasn’t sure what she would say to him, how she could ask him if it was true—that the strong emotions of the bond had driven him to attack his brother.

  Luca was still alive, according to Sara, but that was really no better than if Aaron had killed him outright.

  Who else could he hurt? Sara? Abby herself?

  Their children?

  One of her co-workers at home was stuck in an abusive marriage, one that forced her to come to work from time to time with bruises on her arms, her face, her legs. On one occasion, Abby had seen the woman with a badly cut lip that she claimed was the result of tripping on the stairs. The thing was, Abby had met the woman’s husband at the company holiday party and had thought he was very charming and funny. For all that she’d tried not to think anything positive about him, he seemed like a nice guy, one she might enjoy being friends with.

  Remembering him made her stomach turn.

  Could she do that to herself? Stay here with Aaron knowing that he was capable of hurting even a member of his own family, someone he was supposed to love? And just because of an argument?

  The flowers around her looked different this time. Darker, smaller. The mist in the distance looked like a cold March fog.

  “Abby.”

  She didn’t turn toward the sound of his voice. She kept her back to it, and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Abby, what’s wrong?”

  “They locked you up. That’s what’s wrong,” she said without turning.

  “I’m all right. It’s just a room. We’ll get this straightened out. Don’t worry. It’s going to be all right.”

  “Is it?”

  “It will. My father won’t let this happen.”

  “Is he protecting the family name?”

  Aaron was silent for a moment. She could sense him there, though, not far from her, watching her. She wondered if she could make him go away simply by wanting it to happen, but when she tried thinking GO AWAY! as loudly as she could, that didn’t happen. He was still there behind her… but the emotion drifting her way had changed. He seemed to feel sad. Disappointed.

  “You can’t believe them,” he told her quietly. “You know better.”

  “Do I?”

  “Of course you do. Everything we have–”

  Finally, she turned to face him. “I’ve only known you for a few days. That’s not anywhere near long enough to really know someone. These people have all known you a lot longer than I have. Why shouldn’t I believe what they’re saying? Why shouldn’t I at least consider it?”

  “Because you know me, Abby.”

  He looked as if his heart was close to breaking.

  She half-expected that to change to anger, that he’d lash out at her for not taking his side. Her co-worker had confided in a few people that her husband had a hair trigger, that the smallest thing could set him off, particularly if he felt betrayed or embarrassed.

  Abby waited, almost holding her breath, but Aaron’s expression didn’t change, nor did the emotion spilling out of him.

  “You know me,” he whispered.

  She tried to turn away again, but she couldn’t; her heart wouldn’t let her. As foolish as it seemed, she felt as if she did know him. Maybe not the small things they hadn’t experienced yet, or talked about—Did he like children? Did he want a lot of them? What were his favorite foods, when he wasn’t at the mercy of his Separation? Who were his best friends?—but she knew what kind of man he was. What he was capable of, and what he wasn’t.

  “Come back with me,” she blurted.

  He frowned and moved his head a little, as if he meant to shake it.

  “Back home,” she said. “If they won’t believe you here, we can leave. We could go anywhere.”

  He grimaced.

  “If you don’t like where I live,” she pressed, “we’ll pick somewhere else. There are a lot of really beautiful places. We could find something near the woods, so you could… do what you have to do.”

  “This is my home, Abby.”

  “So, it’s okay for me to sacrifice everything, give up my whole life, to be with you, but you wouldn’t do the same thing for me?”

  “It’s different.”

  “How is it different? Because I’m not a wolf? Isn’t being together the most important thing? Not where we are?”

  She stood her ground for a minute, arms still tightly wrapped around herself although it wasn’t cold here and there was no wind. Aaron looked past her, first to one side, then the other. He was starting to look as lost as a very disappointed child, but she could tell his feelings went far deeper than that. Clearly, there was something about the outside world that made it impossible for him to go there.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  This time he did shake his head, and he looked so miserable that she had to go to him. When he didn’t objec
t, she slipped her arms around his waist and held him close to her. He leaned his head against hers as he embraced her, each exhale sounding like a sigh.

  “We lost someone,” he said. “Someone who fell in love. His name was Jonathan.”

  “That won’t happen to you.”

  “Some of the younger ones talk about him as if he’s nothing more than a story. But I knew him. Luca and I both did. He was a good friend.”

  “Tell me.”

  Aaron moved his head to look off into the distance again. “He had a habit of going over to that place you came from. The island with the hotel. He would let his wolf run free and slip around in the bushes to watch the people there. He fell in love with a girl who worked there. The elders forbade him to go back, but he kept doing it. One night a groundskeeper saw him… and shot him.”

  “Oh, no. Aaron…”

  “The man left him to go get the others, and Jonathan was able to get away, to come back to the island, even though he was dying. He told Luca what had happened. Luca sat with him, out in the woods, until his spirit returned to the beyond.”

  “That won’t happen to you. It won’t.”

  “The elders use his story to warn us of the dangers of the mainland. Of becoming involved with humans.”

  That made Abby bristle. She moved back half a step so she could look at him. “That is just so… so bigoted! That man probably shot Jonathan to protect the guests. A wolf, Aaron. Of course he was scared. There are children there. Old people. You can’t condemn every single person in the world because one man got scared. Oh,” she blustered, and stomped a couple of steps away from him. “They’re just like my father. And all the other old men in the world. They’re so damned judgmental. You don’t listen to that, do you? Why do you let them decide things like that?”

  “Because they’re right.”

  “They’re not right.”

  “What would any human do if they saw me coming close? In my wolf form? The wolves who live on the mainland have to hide, Abby. They live their entire lives in fear of being discovered.”

  Before she could get any farther away, he had wrapped her up in his arms again and held her close. Being confined like that made her shake with anger, even though his hold was loose and gentle.

  Just like every other…

  Then Aaron tipped her head back carefully and kissed her. It was light at first, a gesture of affection and reassurance, but after a few seconds the stress of having been apart took control of both of them and they began to kiss more urgently, as if they were in danger of being torn apart forever. Abby had to force herself not to think of that possibility as she clutched at Aaron’s arms and the back of his shirt. They were both clothed this time, she realized, but that needed to change, and quickly.

  She fumbled for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, struggling with it until he withdrew just enough to help her tug the fabric up over his head. They made short work of getting rid of the rest of their clothing, throwing each piece aside, not caring where any of it landed or whether they could find it again.

  That feeling she’d had that he was fragile and wounded was gone now; now he seemed more solid than a mountain, something that could stand up in the face of the most powerful storm.

  Together, she thought. This is us, together.

  They came together urgently, swiftly, Aaron’s hands moving over her soft curves as her hands pressed the hard, muscular planes of his back and shoulders. He gripped her backside tightly, a cheek in each hand, as she stroked the length of his cock, the kiss still not broken. Then he lifted her up, urging her legs to circle him, and thrust inside her with a gasp. Later she would wonder how he managed to thrust without anything to brace her against, without ever losing his hold, but in the moment all she was aware of was that he was there, filling her in every way possible, humming deep inside his chest, a noise that sounded like a mixture of a laugh and a purr and a growl.

  He laid her on the ground so he could make his last few thrusts easily, hands braced on either side of her, looking down at her with an expression she hoped she would never forget.

  When they were finished he lay down beside her and rolled her toward him. They were both slick with sweat, enough so that they slipped around a little. That made her giggle. Nothing had ever felt as good as this, she thought: being this close, a little woozy from the urgency of their lovemaking, still tingling from her orgasm.

  “I love you,” she murmured into his ear.

  To her surprise, he didn’t say anything.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “They’ll send me away, Abby,” he groaned, not quite looking at her, then shifting his gaze to her eyes. “They are foolish old men. They surrender too easily. This seems like a reasonable answer, the sensible answer for the good of the pack. They’ll send me away and we’ll never see each other again—unless you stop them.”

  “Me?” she squeaked.

  “Give them the answer they need. You can do it.”

  “And what if they don’t listen? They don’t want to hear me. You saw that. They keep telling me to be quiet.”

  “Change their minds,” Aaron said.

  Twelve

  She came out of the dream flustered and struggling, feeling as if she were drowning in the nest of blankets Granny Sara had put together for her. She sat up with the blankets twisted around her, forcing herself to calm down, to breathe slowly and silently so that she wouldn’t wake Sara or the ever-present Micah, who was curled up like a dog in front of the fire.

  Her head was still spinning as she shoved the blankets aside, then groped for her shoes and put them on.

  Change their minds?

  How was she supposed to change anyone’s mind?

  Granny Sara and her grandson were sound enough sleepers that they didn’t stir when Abby crept across the room and let herself out of the house. It was possible, Abby guessed, that they were aware of her on some subliminal level, but she was able to close the door behind her without anyone interrupting her.

  But… what now?

  The village seemed quiet in the darkness, nothing stirring except the breeze. Abby was awake enough now to remember that wolves were nocturnal, which meant it was likely that at least a few of them were wandering around in the woods, and maybe here within the confines of the village. Their night vision was probably a lot better than hers, and their sense of smell certainly was.

  So… what to do?

  She needed to find an ally. Not Granny Sara; Sara was simply another human, someone the elders might not think was worth listening to, no matter what she had to say. They might give her the respect due to an older person, but Abby suspected that in the eyes of the elders, Sara was just an older version of Abby herself.

  No; she needed to find an ally among the wolves.

  More than a little worried, she looked around the village, up and down the dirt paths leading to the clusters of homes and common buildings. In the end, she had only one choice. There was only one wolf who might be more worried about Aaron’s fate than about the good of the pack.

  She hurried down the path with her skin prickling, feeling that she was being watched by hundreds of eyes. No one appeared, though, and she reached Aaron’s family’s home with a huge sense of relief that grew even larger when she noticed a light in the window, the flicker of a lantern burning inside. It wasn’t a surprise that someone was awake; Aaron’s parents were probably taking turns sitting with Luca.

  Nodding to herself, she rapped gently on the door.

  Jeremiah opened it a moment later.

  “Please,” Abby said. “Can I come in?”

  He stepped aside and let her in without speaking, then closed the door behind her. She could see Rachel sitting at Luca’s bedside, his hand wrapped in hers. Rachel was murmuring something to her son. A story, maybe, or a prayer. Maybe she was just talking to him, letting him hear the sound of her voice.

  “Aaron–” she said to Jeremiah.

  “Is confined.”

&
nbsp; “He didn’t do this.” She nodded toward Luca. “You must know that, Jeremiah. He wouldn’t hurt his brother.”

  Jeremiah wouldn’t meet her eyes. That shocked her, that he would stand by like this. Did he really believe Aaron was capable of this? Or was he so cowed by the elders that he would go along with anything they decided?

  This place was no paradise, she decided. Not if people acted like this. It made them no better than anybody on the mainland. Anybody human.

  Rather than look at Aaron’s father, she looked off into the bedroom, at the way Rachel was leaning toward her son, holding on to him through the power of her voice. Abby’s mom had done much the same thing when Abby was sick, sitting at her bedside or snuggling in with her under the covers, singing or talking softly, bathing Abby’s feverish forehead with a cool washcloth, bringing her soup and crackers, changing her nightie when she got too sweaty.

  This was the person who’d listen to her. The one who’d go to the mat for Aaron, no matter what the elders said. No, she hadn’t argued Aaron’s innocence to Daniel—but Daniel was terrifying, and Rachel had been deeply shocked to see her older son hurt so badly.

  And Daniel wasn’t here now.

  Ignoring Jeremiah, Abby crept into the bedroom and stood on the other side of the bed from Rachel.

  “We can’t let this happen,” she whispered. “You have to help me. We need to help Aaron.”

  For a moment Rachel did nothing. Then she nodded, a simple, single dip of her head.

  There was no chair for her to sit on, so Abby moved close to the bed and took Luca’s free hand in her own. She was surprised how cold it felt—and was more surprised when, within a few seconds, it kindled into warmth, almost as if someone had flipped a switch.

  It seemed as though he was communicating with her in that way… or maybe the wolf inside him was.

  Did he know she was here? Could he hear her? She remembered reading that people who were unconscious could still hear what was going on around them, even if they were dying.

  So…

  “Luca,” she said quietly, trying not to let her voice shake. “Luca, can you hear me?”