Last Wolf Standing

by Rhyannon Byrd

  “What about it?”

  “We need to know how you learned to dayshift. How Simmons learned it. And why it’s screwing with our ability to track him by scent.”

  The teen shook his head from side to side, mouth grim with something that looked surprisingly like guilt—an uncommon emotion for a rogue Lycan. “I don’t know,” the boy mumbled, staring at his lap.

  “Elliot, if you don’t work with us, we can’t…”

  His head jerked up, face ruddy with color. “I don’t remember. I don’t want to remember! It was a freaking nightmare and I don’t even wanna think about it!”

  There was something here. Something that ran deeper than meat lust and evil. “You seem like a decent kid, Elliot. Why get mixed up with these assholes?”

  The teenager’s ragged breathing filled the room, harsh and gasping, as if he’d run uphill. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “We always have a choice,” Jeremy countered.

  “Whatever,” Elliot muttered, his lip curling with attitude. “You gonna kill me now or what?”

  “For whatever reason, you saved his mate’s life,” Jeremy told him, his tone dry, “so no, he’s not going to kill you.”

  The boy eyed Jeremy with a bleak, distrustful stare. “What about you?”

  “You’re safe here,” Mason assured him. “Neither one of us wants you dead, but we’re going to need your help. You have to cooperate.”

  “I get it,” he snorted. “You’re gonna squeeze me for information or else. Right?”

  The kid’s animosity was blatant, in your face, but Mason couldn’t blame him. He remembered exactly how it felt to be Elliot’s age. Alone, full of anger, trying to find your place in the world. The teenager was a pure-blood, full pack—with all its rights and privileges. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have his own set of issues. Learning to deal with the animal half of your nature was difficult under the best of circumstances—traumatic at the worst.

  Something told him that Elliot Connors had a good core, but had gone off course somewhere along the way. But until he knew for sure, he was keeping him under lock and key, not taking any chances.

  And there was one thing more he still needed to know. “Have you gone over, Elliot?”

  Dark eyes slid away, the kid’s rangy body shifting nervously on the bed. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. Have you fed? Taken down a human?”

  Like a fragile flame snuffed out, the teenager’s belligerent expression closed in on itself, leaving nothing but smoke in its wake. “I’m done talking,” he muttered, barely moving his mouth. “You wanna torture me, go ahead. Otherwise, just leave me the hell alone.”

  Mason stood as he looked toward Jeremy, who gave a short nod of his head, both of them realizing that they’d gotten all they were going to get out of the boy for the moment. There were times when it was best to leave someone alone with their demons, and this was one of them. Elliot Connors was going to wear himself down faster than either of them could—without getting physical, which Mason wanted to avoid.

  “If you’ll give us your word not to cause trouble,” Jeremy said, “we’ll go ahead and take off the restraint.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Elliot snorted, and Jeremy walked to the bed, taking a key from his pocket to undo the handcuff. Mason followed behind his partner as Jeremy headed up the stairs, but turned back on the second step, one hand on the rail. “Just one more question.”

  Elliot met his gaze, then shifted his angry stare to the wrinkled sheets on the bed. “Yeah?”

  “Why did you save her life?”

  He watched as Elliot swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, while his eyes squeezed shut. “I didn’t know they were going after a girl,” he said gruffly, opening his eyes to stare at his lap. His hands shook, and he fisted them, squeezing so tight that his knuckles turned white. “When I saw that creep Duff attack her—I didn’t have any choice.”

  “You had a choice, Elliot. You could have let the bastard have her, but you didn’t. And that’s why I’m going to let you live,” he told him, then headed up the stairs after Jeremy.

  “I’m going to see if there’s a game on and kick back for a while,” his partner said, sounding worn-out, his face tight with strain as he made sure to lock the basement door. “God knows I need it after yesterday.”

  Feeling awkward, Mason forced himself to say, “I haven’t told you thanks for sticking around here and keeping an eye on him.”

  A slow grin kicked up the corner of Jeremy’s mouth. “No problem, man. I know you’d do the same for me. And we can’t have you bunking with the boy wonder downstairs, when you’ve got a hot-blooded woman in your bed up here.”

  A short bark of laughter jerked from his throat, and he eyed the bite marks on Jeremy’s neck, knowing the pain must have kept him awake for most of the night. “You sure you don’t want to have Jillian take a look at you?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” his partner snorted, shaking his head. “Damn woman would probably get a kick outta torturing me. I’d just as soon save myself the pain.”

  Mason wanted to argue, but knew it was pointless. “I’m gonna check and see if Torrance is up yet, then take another look at my e-mail, see if anything new came up. I sent out some feelers to a few out-of-state Runners to see if they’ve ever heard of a Lycan being able to mask his scent the way Simmons did. Maybe someone will know something we don’t.”

  Jeremy nodded, his expression thoughtful. “When Carter and Hennessey get here, we should try to come up with some kind of plan.”

  Looking at the locked door, Mason blew out a deep breath. “Maybe we’ll be able to get some more out of Connors by then.”

  “I hope so.” Jeremy sighed. “Because we’ve got nothing, and my gut is screaming that he’s hiding something.”

  * * *

  Like Goldilocks in the three bears’ house, Torrance was sleeping in his bed when Mason found her. One touch on her arm, and she jerked awake with a start, pulling away from him the second she realized he was leaning over her, his warm hand brushing her hair back from her face. It wasn’t his presence that startled her—but rather the immediate desire to pull him down on the bed with her and pick up where they’d left off in the night.

  Jeez, Watson, you’ve got the willpower of a gnat.

  Scooting a bit further away from temptation, she pushed her hair out of her eyes in time to see Mason slowly straighten away from the bed, then take a single step back, staring down at her with an unreadable expression. She watched as he ran one dark hand back through the reddish-brown waves of his hair, making her own palms itch to stroke the soft, thick strands. To tangle her fingers in their warm heat and pull him down for a scorching, breathtaking kiss.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice was hard, the stiff words shattering the heavy stillness that had settled between them. “After last night, I didn’t think you would…Hell, not that it matters.”

  “I’m sorry…it’s not that,” Torrance whispered, pushing herself up until her back rested against the polished headboard. He didn’t believe her, and she knew she was going to have to explain herself. He could have lied to her last night when she’d questioned him about how the mating thing would work, but he hadn’t. He’d been honest with her, and now he deserved the same.

  “I can smell the fear on you, Torrance,” he stated flatly, as if he were working to hide his emotions—and she guessed that he’d had lots of practice at it.

  Wrapping her arms around her knees, she pulled them into her chest and shook her head. “I know you think I’m still afraid of you…of what you are, but you’re wrong, Mason. I realized this morning that I wouldn’t have let you touch me like that if I didn’t trust you.” The steady sound of her voice amazed her, but she knew her cheeks had heated with a telling flush of color. “But after last night…I think it might be best if we just keep things…if we just stayed…friends. I don’t think it’d be such a great idea if we got…invo
lved.”

  The look he gave her was piercing, as if he were trying to figure her out, get into her head. “If you’re not afraid, then what is it?”

  Chewing on the corner of her lower lip, she said, “I’m just trying to protect myself from getting hurt.”

  “You think I’d hurt you?” he gritted through his teeth in a quiet snarl, clearly outraged. His brows lowered over the golden brown of his eyes, lending a fierceness to his expression that made her want to reach out and soothe him. She wanted to rub her thumb over the deep grooves between those thick brows and comfort him—but didn’t dare.

  “No,” she told him, hating the way he was looking at her. “I know you wouldn’t physically hurt me, Mason. You’re a protector. But this connection between us is powerful, and I refuse to settle for less than…” She struggled for a way to explain, but all she could say was, “I just don’t think it would be a good idea for us to take this any further. You’re not a safe bet for someone like me.”

  With a slight nod, he said, “So this is because of what I am.”

  “No, it isn’t,” she argued, fisting her hands with frustration. “And I wish you’d stop turning my words around on me. You know what you’re…like. I mean you’re…you…God, Mason, all you have to do is look at me and I’m…I…”

  He gave a rough laugh, the sound kind of cramped, as if he hadn’t used the skill in a while. “If there’s a compliment in there, Tor, I’m not sure I want to find it.”

  Pressing one hand to her chest, Torrance tried again. “I’m trying to tell you that this is because of who I am. I want more than a life built on good sex, Mason. And, yeah, it’d be good. I admit it. You touch me and I’m destroyed, okay? But that’s not going to keep us happy the rest of our lives. That’s not enough for me. We’re too different.”

  “You mean you’re human and I’m a nightmare?” he sneered, making a rude sound under his breath.

  Her chin lifted at his tone. “I mean we want different things out of life. You don’t want love, and I do.”

  “What the…” he muttered, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he stood there with a poleaxed expression on his face. “Torrance, we only just met. Why the hell are we already talking about love?”

  “Because this connection between us changes all the rules. I’m not trying to fight with you. I’m just trying to be honest about what I want out of life, the same way you were honest with me last night when I asked how this life-mate stuff works.”

  For a long moment he just stared down at her, a vein pulsing in his temple, and then he suddenly nodded again. “I get it now,” he rasped. “You don’t take any chances. You always push before you get pushed first. Is that it?”

  “If it is,” Torrance shot back, wishing she could make him understand, “all it means is that I learned a lesson the hard way. I spent my childhood watching my mother go through one pretty face after another, and when I was old enough to know what I wanted out of life, I made a decision to never settle for less than my dream.”

  “Your dream? What the hell does that mean?” he demanded, moving toward the foot of the bed, where he proceeded to pace back and forth, a sharp, resonating tension riding the hard length of his body. A white T-shirt stretched across his chest, muscular legs wrapped in a pair of clean, well-worn jeans, a night spent in bed making him look even better than he had yesterday—but then, Torrance was no longer viewing him with a touch of fear. Now, when she looked at him, she didn’t want to run. No, all she wanted was to experience the touch of his hands, his mouth…his body.

  Giving herself a sharp mental shake, Torrance searched for a way to explain something that was such a private part of her. “I’m talking about the dream of what I want in life. The kind of man that I’m looking for. One who can give me more than a pretty face and pleasure. Michaela blames it on all the romances I love to read, but…” She broke off, a sad smile twisting her mouth as she placed her hand over her heart. “It’s more than that. It’s something that I feel in here, Mason. Something that I need, and I’m not willing to settle for anything less. I want—”

  “What?” he muttered, the word all but jerked out of his chest, brittle and snide. “A fairy tale?”

  “I don’t want a Prince Charming. I just…I just want my dream man.”

  “Yeah, and being a werewolf rules me out, no doubt,” he grunted with a rough laugh, his tone bitter, while the air in the room all but skittered with the sparks of their argument—like their own little storm in the making.

  “It has nothing to do with a man’s physical appearance. It’s an emotional thing. How he feels about me. I want a man who loves me, Mason. A man who…who wants me more than anything else. Not sex. Just…me,” she confessed with passionate conviction, willing him to understand. “Who wants to hold me as we watch the sunset. Who drinks coffee with me as we cuddle to watch the sunrise. Who holds me under the moonlight in his arms, because he just wants to be close to me. Who can smile and laugh and share his life with me, because he wants it. Because…because he loves me most of all.”

  He didn’t say anything. Just stood there at the foot of the bed, no longer pacing, his hands still shoved deep in his pockets, the look on his rugged face a mixture of anger and frustration and something she couldn’t identify.

  “Do you understand?” she asked softly.

  “Yeah,” he breathed out on a rough burst of air, his jaw working. “I understand you want a goddamn paragon. When you grow up and want a man, let me know.”

  She flinched, his words striking her like a blow. “Well,” she whispered, “if I want a man, then that rules you out, doesn’t it? A real man isn’t afraid to love something, Mason. He isn’t afraid to open himself up and share that part of himself with someone else, no matter what his reasons are.”

  “Christ,” he hissed under his breath, his head falling back as he glared at the ceiling. “I knew it. I knew the second I set eyes on you in that goddamn café that you were going to complicate the hell out of things.”

  “This is complicated with or without my help,” she countered, not wanting things to stay like this between them. “It scares me, the thought of what I feel when I get close to you. This mating thing between us, it’s drawing us together, and for you, that’s enough. I’m trying to tell you, Mason, that for me, it wouldn’t be. I can’t disengage my emotions that way. I’ve tried before, trust me…and it doesn’t work. What happened yesterday is proof of that. A few hours with you…and everything changed for me. I went from being terrified of you, to terrified for you, to…to what happened last night. It’s never been that way for me before. And what we did was—”

  “Not nearly enough,” he finished in a raspy slide of words, eyes heavy-lidded as he lowered his head to stare back down at her, the sun pouring through the windows setting the auburn threads in his hair afire. “Hell, Torrance, it’s never been that way for me before, either. A Lycan only finds one mate. One. I may not be wired for this love you’re so set on having, but I can promise that I’ll be faithful to you. Now that I’ve found you, I sure as hell wouldn’t waste my time screwing around on you.”

  She would have loved to believe that, but she knew better. “I wish that could be enough for me,” she whispered, the caving pain in her chest suddenly making her wonder if she was doing the right thing, “but it isn’t. You can make promises, Mason, but without love, nothing will last, no matter how powerful. I’m just trying to save myself the heartache beforehand.”

  “You know what, Torrance? Life doesn’t always come packaged the way we want it. And no matter what you say, you trust me,” he rasped. “You wouldn’t have come last night if you didn’t.”

  “I trust you with my body, Mason. Just not my heart. And I didn’t want to fight with you. I was just trying to be honest,” she said softly, gripping the pillow beside her and pulling it to her chest, as if it could protect her from the chilling look in his eyes. “You don’t believe in love, and I won’t settle for less. Why get into something whe
n we already know how it’s going to end?”

  He cursed viciously under his breath as he turned and headed for the door. When he had one hand on the knob, he paused. “You know,” he ground out, his back to her as he turned the handle, “between your goddamn dreams and nightmares, Torrance, it’s like I can’t win for losing.”

  With those softly snarled words lingering in the air between them, Mason walked out of the room.

  Chapter 9

  No matter how many ways Torrance ran it through her brain, she couldn’t decide if she was doing the right thing by pulling away from Mason—or if she was screwing up her best chance at happiness.

  Had she made the right choice, or had she panicked? She didn’t know—and the connection between them made it impossible to reason things out, the driving physical need to be close to him destroying her ability to think clearly. Here they were, living in the same house, and yet so much separated them. Fears and hesitations over their pasts, as well their futures.

  For the thousandth time that day, she asked herself why she couldn’t just live in the present. The question drove her crazy while she whittled the hours away sorting through the boxes and suitcases that had been brought from her apartment. Thankfully, there was plenty of space in Mason’s closet and empty drawers in his dresser, so she used those to store her clothes. It took forever, but she finally found her cell phone and its charger, which she plugged in beside the bed. Having nothing else to do to pass the time, she decided she’d had enough of hiding.

  A quick run through her hair with her brush and slick application of her favorite lip gloss, and she headed toward the kitchen. When she stood just outside the archway, she found herself blinking in amazement, unable to believe the scene playing out before her. It was like some kind of testosterone-fest. On their own, Mason and Jeremy took up more than their fair share of space, both physical and emotional. They were just so big, their personalities so much larger than life. Always there was an air of energy, sharp-edged and powerful pulsing around them. You couldn’t be near them and not feel affected…touched.