Silence stretched between them.
“That’s rough. But you can handle it, J. You didn’t know she had a fiancé or a mate or whatever, but now you do. Just deal with her on a business level only. Hands off. Doesn’t matter if you’re attracted to her. You can think she’s the greatest piece of ass to walk this earth, just keep it in your pants and you’ll be fine.”
Jace rolled his eyes. “You always did have a way with words.”
He was about to go on when the door to K9’s burst open and Frankie raced out into the street. She glanced around frantically. Great, just as he was starting to calm down.
She spotted him and ran over. “Jace, you have to let me explain.”
“You don’t need to explain anything to me, Frankie. Believe me. I get it.”
“No, you don’t understand. Alejandro and I—”
“Just give it a rest already. You heard me in there. I don’t want a relationship with you anyway, so you’re all his.”
“Jace,” David hissed.
Frankie opened her mouth again, but Jace raised a hand. “I’m done with this drama. Unless you have something to tell me that will lead to catching Robert and then me getting the hell out of here, I don’t want to hear it.”
Even in the dark, he could see her swallow hard. Then she nodded. “The pack was impressed by your...well, your crazy anger in there, so they agreed to let me teach you to shift.”
A smile spread across David’s face. “That’s more like it.”
She forced a grin. “Uh, yeah, so we can start training tomorrow. But there’s one complication—David can’t come with you.”
Jace frowned.
“It will be just you and me.”
Looking completely unperturbed, David said, “Well, have fun, you two.” He clapped Jace on the shoulder. “Call me when you need a drink, J, or when you learn how to shift, whichever comes first.” Then he limped down the road to the garage where he’d parked his car, since he wasn’t going to be riding his motorcycle for a while with the condition his leg was in.
“Um...so I guess we’ll start tomorrow. Sleep would be good first. It won’t work if you’re tired,” she said. “At least ’til you get good at it.”
Jace stubbed out his last cigarette. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned away from her, ready to follow David to the car.
“Jace, there’s another problem.”
He faced her again. “What now?”
“My apartment was ransacked. I was staying at the hotel with you. Remember?”
Apparently the universe wasn’t done sticking it to him just yet.
* * *
FRANKIE CHOKED ON the stale air in the hotel elevator. Standing next to Jace inside the cramped space made her claustrophobic. The lingering smell of his smoke and whiskey mixed with his own distinctive scent and made breathing even more difficult. Finally the bell dinged and the doors opened. She scrambled out and ran for the penthouse door.
Jace brushed past her, unlocked the door and charged into the room without a word. She slipped in behind him as he strode straight to the bedroom, quickly stripping off his boots and his leather coat. She wandered toward her bag on the far side of the room. Something had to give. She couldn’t handle this sort of tension, not the entire time she was trying to train him.
It was her own fault, of course. In less than twenty-four hours he’d found out that she’d both lied to him about her position and neglected to tell him she was engaged. Now he needed to know the rest of the truth.
“Look, Jace. Can I just explain?”
He set down his boots on the white carpeting and placed his hands on his hips. “There’s nothing to say. Don’t waste your breath.”
A heavy weight pushed down on her shoulders. She couldn’t let him think she was a cheater or that Alejandro mattered to her the way Jace no doubt thought he did. She’d never cheated at anything in her life, and aside from lying about her name, she’d never even lied before. Brutal honesty: that was what she prided herself on. With him so angry, though, how could she get him to listen, much less believe her?
She picked up her backpack and walked into the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she stripped down and changed into a pair of yoga pants and a fresh white tank top. When she finished changing, she stared in the mirror for a long moment before she twisted on the faucet and splashed cold water over her face.
Enough.
She turned off the sink, threw open the bathroom door and marched back into the bedroom.
“I’m not his wife or his fiancée.”
Jace glanced in her direction, then away. “Frankie, give it a rest.”
“No. You’re going to listen to me. I have something to say. I don’t care whether or not you want to hear it, or whether or not you care. I need to say it, damn it.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
He didn’t look at her.
“I’ve been slated to be Alejandro’s mate since the time I hit puberty, but I’ve never had any feelings for him beyond friendship. I love him, Jace, but I’m not in love with him. Our...engagement, if you want to call it that, doesn’t—didn’t—mean what you think. I know you don’t want any sort of relationship with me. I get it. You’ve made that abundantly clear. But I want you to know that I never intended to cheat on anyone, and if I hurt you, I never meant to, because I never chose to be with Alejandro. I don’t regret being with you, not one bit, because for once in my life I got to choose who I wanted to be with. I just wanted you to know that.”
Jace stared at the floor before he stripped off his shirt and lay down on the bed.
A wave of heat rushed through her as she scanned the lines of his body. The muscles in his chest flexed as he breathed, and his biceps tightened as he rest his hands behind his head. She forced herself to look away. He didn’t want her.
“Tomorrow you can start teaching me how to shift,” he said.
* * *
ROBERT SAT AGAINST the wall of the warehouse and watched his victim’s eyes flicker open, only for her to shy away from the light. A dim lone bulb hung over her head, casting shadows across the room, figures lurking like demons in the dark. He sat quietly and observed her reactions. She tried to roll her shoulders, to stretch, but she couldn’t move. She glanced up. Her wrists were shackled together above her head. Wrenching her arms, she tried to fight against the restraints. Her whole body swayed. She looked at her feet. The toes of her flats barely scuffed the surface of the concrete beneath her. Her lip quivered as if she were about to burst into tears.
Pathetic really. Just heartbreaking enough to be vomit-inducing.
She struggled against the shackles. After several minutes her muscles slackened and she hung from the ceiling, rocking like a pig waiting for slaughter.
Slowly he sauntered to her side, his footsteps echoing through the warehouse. The gleaming silver of his blade flashed in the dim lighting as he pushed the weapon against her windpipe.
“Finally awake.”
Blood trickled down her collarbone. The delicious red of a ripe fall apple. He drew the blade away from her throat and stepped in front of her. “I’m glad you decided to grace me with your consciousness. I’ve been waiting.”
“Please, let me go.” She closed her eyes and muttered a small prayer. But God wouldn’t help her. Not here.
He laughed. “Why would I go through the trouble of keeping you alive if I was just going to let you go?” He stepped into her, his body flush against hers. “You’re not getting off so easy. I need you to bring Frankie to me. One of her fellow pack members in danger. She won’t be able to resist.”
Her eyes widened. “You don’t understand. She won’t come for me. She—”
“Shut up.” He clutched a single hand around her throat.
She obliged and closed her mouth. When he was certain he felt her fear pulsing beneath his hand, he released her throat and stepped away from her.
“What do you want with her?” she said.
Robert laughed
. “Do you even need to ask?” He picked up a nearby wrench.
“Honestly, I really do. I—”
He threw the tool at her full force. She screamed, though the metal hit the ground a foot away and barely skidded into her foot. He frowned. He’d always been shitty at throwing anything other than daggers, and it was starting to piss him off. He cracked his knuckles.
“Don’t play dumb with me, bitch.” He let out a feral growl. “I know your packmaster has been fucking around with Jace.”
She inhaled a sharp breath. “The hunter,” she said.
Robert sneered. “Yes, the hunter.” He paused, and ran his eyes up and down her body, then moved toward her again. Pressing himself against her, he buried his nose in the crook of her neck. The sweet smell disgusted him, but there was another scent, as well. “I smell a human....” He nearly touched his nose to hers as he leaned in and said, “I can tell.”
She let out a sob.
“Would you stop making that awful, ugly face?” He stepped away from her and walked across the room to sit on an empty wooden crate. “I’ve always hated you women and your overly dramatic feelings.”
“You’re just another disgusting misogynist.”
Robert grinned and examined her as if she’d become suddenly interesting. “You’re right. I do hate women.”
She huffed. “What? Mommy never loved you when you were a baby?”
The twisted smile on his face faded into a scowl. “My mother was a werewolf whore, just like you. My mother used to take men into her room every night. She told me to ignore the noises, that they were just playing games.” He pushed around a small pile of dirt with the toe of his shoe. “I believed her—for a while.”
“You’re pathetic, and your mommy issues are no excuse for killing and torturing women.”
He looked up from the floor and stared at her. “You’re right. None of that is my mother’s fault. I absolve her of all blame for my crimes.” He stood and marched toward her. “I do what I do because I enjoy it, all of my own accord.” He pulled out his knife again.
She cringed. All the muscles in her body tightened, preparing for the pain.
“I won’t bleed you dry just yet.”
She sucked in a deep breath.
“I’ll wait for when Frankie and Jace get here. But listen to me when I say no one...calls...me...pathetic.” He slashed his knife through the air and across her right cheekbone. A surge of power and energy shot through him, and he relished every drop of it.
Blood ran down her face as she screamed. The liquid trickled over her neck and onto her green shirt, staining the fabric a putrid brown. He stood back and marveled at the sight.
As casually as if he’d been talking to the cashier at a grocery store, he smiled. “I’ll be back soon. Enjoy.”
* * *
A LARGE HAND clamped down on Thomas’s shoulder. The voice of the shadowed man echoed as he said, “You will not be limited by mortal bounds.” His voice filled the small clearing where they stood, the forest painted in blue hues as if the brush were made of the sky.
Thomas’s eyes widened. A light sparked in his irises, and a smirk spread across his face. “You mean I’ll be immortal?”
The shadowed man stepped in front of him. “Don’t overestimate your abilities. No one is immortal but the gods. You will age, but at a slow pace, and no minor wound will harm you, but make no mistake, your time will come. Like your father, someday you must pass down your power. You will choose when that time is. A respectful son shall wait until the time is right, just as you must wait now.”
“Like a respectful son...” Thomas looked up into the face of the shadowed man, who towered over him in his enormity. “What do I do now?” he asked.
“Go. Return to your rightful place at your father’s side. He will tell you when his time is up. Until then, learn what wisdom you can from him. Great power lies ahead of you.”
The shadowed man lifted his hand, and with the wave of his wrist the blue forest melted.
When the blue world had faded from his view, Thomas scanned his surroundings. He stood in the middle of a small backyard behind a small redbrick home. Inside, framed in a window, a middle-aged man stood at a kitchen sink, his hands buried in suds.
“Wait and learn his wisdom?” Thomas shook his head before he strode toward the house. He wrenched open the patio door and stepped inside, his boots tracking dirt onto the once-white linoleum. “Hey, Dad. I’m home.”
Thomas’s father glanced up from the dishes and smiled. “You’re later than I expected, Tom.” He set the plate he’d finished washing onto a towel along with the other cleaned dishes—three stacks of plates, several bowls, a single glass and some well-used silverware. He turned to the casserole dish in his hand and scrubbed at the leftover macaroni. “What were you up to? Your mom put some dinner for you in the fridge. The macaroni is in the yellow Tupperware container, and there’s some steak on a plate in there. It’s covered with tinfoil.”
Thomas walked to the fridge, keeping his eyes trained on his father. “I was just...uh...running late at work, Dad. We had an extra shipment come in.” He pulled the refrigerator door open and removed the covered steak. After unwrapping the aluminum foil, he shoved the plate into the microwave and hit start.
He scanned the room. His gaze paused on the block holding the steak knives. “Can you hand me a knife, Dad?”
“Sure.” His father reached over the counter, selecting one of the steak knives from the wooden block. Still facing the sink, he held the knife out behind him, and Thomas took it from his hand.
He clutched it in his palm as he stared at his father. The blade gleamed in the light. “Hey, Dad, I have something interesting to tell you....” He stepped forward.
“Yeah?” His father looked up from the dishes and saw, reflected in the window, his son standing over him. His eyes widened. “Tom, what are you—”
Tom met his gaze as he stabbed the knife into his father’s spine. “I just wanted to tell you, I’m sorry.”
* * *
JACE’S EYES SHOT open as he woke from a deep sleep. He blinked several times and felt his heart pounding in his throat. Holy shit. Dreaming of his father killing his grandfather—a man Jace had never even met? Damn, he had too active an imagination. Besides, his mother had said his grandfather had died of old age before she and his father, Tom, had ever even met.
He didn’t need to be thinking about this shit.
His nightmares were freaky enough without delving into family drama. And damn, if that shit was true...no wonder he was as fucked up as he was.
He rolled over onto his back and glanced at Frankie. She lay sleeping beside him, hair sprawled over the pillowcase, fast asleep. He wanted to touch her. As much as he was angry with her, resented her for making him feel so much when she yielded so little, he couldn’t find the strength to detach himself completely, though he wished he could. She’d insisted she was a free woman and that she’d wanted to be with him. But he couldn’t afford to believe her. And yet... He could have moved into another room in the suite or ordered her to sleep elsewhere. But as he’d chugged Bushmills from the flask he’d refilled and she’d sipped from a second bottle, they’d settled together on the bed, neither talking nor touching. Sleep had finally claimed her, and he’d been content to watch her rest, to hear her breathe. Yeah. Maybe it was in his genes. A level of debauchery and selfishness that went bone deep.
Dear Lord, he had to try to shift tomorrow, and so far in his life he hadn’t so much as shifted even a single limb. He let out a long sigh and shook his head. If the nightmares in the early morning hours were any sign of what the day would be like, he was going to need a lot more whiskey.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JACE’S SKIN CRAWLED when he walked into K9’s the next day. In all his years of hunting, he’d never been as nervous as he was standing on the platform, a perfect training ground, with Frankie.
Him shifting? He cringed.
“Okay, let’s get this
over with,” he said.
Frankie rolled her eyes. “It’s not that easy, Jace. You’re not going to learn it in a few hours.”
“It seems simple enough for all of you. You do it within a matter of seconds,” he said.
She sighed and shook her head. “We’re full-blooded. It’ll be harder for you. And even we had to learn how.”
His face fell into a frown. “How long does it usually take to learn?”
She let out a long sigh, as if all her hopes were deflating like an old balloon. “Weeks. But we can’t afford that. You only have a few days.”
“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me. I may be good, but I’m not that good.”
She placed her hands on her hips, and a look that was pure attitude crossed her face. “Unless you want more women to die, you’ll shift and you’ll do it soon. We’re going to be working all our waking hours until you get this mastered.”
He rolled his eyes. “If you say so, teach.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass. Are you ready?”
He shrugged. “Let’s go.”
“To start with, I want you to try and shift on your own. You won’t be able to, but do what feels natural. What would you start with?”
“Well, I’d start with taking off my clothes. I don’t want to rip my expensive threads.” He poked his finger through a hole in his coat.
“Okay, Casanova. Strip down, then.”
Jace shrugged off his coat and pulled his shirt over his head, then tossed them to the side.
* * *
FRANKIE’S EYES WIDENED. The memory of Jace’s arms flexing as he drove himself into her invaded her mind. Heat shot to her core. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. But the way his stomach tightened when he thrust into her... The thought lingered. She smiled and bit her lower lip, then snapped herself back to reality. “Now what would you do?” she finally managed to say.
“Get down on my hands and knees?”
She waved him forward. “Don’t ask me. Go ahead.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Jace knelt on the platform and lowered his weight onto his hands, then got off his knees and balanced on his toes. “All right,” he said. “This is all you’re getting out of me. You’ve got about three more seconds of this before I stand up again.”
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