“How would he get them without Chase?” Finn asked.
“Eventually the fool’s partner will take over. The woman, his office manager.” She glanced at Olivia. “With the red hair?”
“Miss Rangell?” Olivia asked, nausea washing over. Chase had been infatuated with her—said she was hot. No matter how many times Olivia told him that wasn’t a requirement for the sort of work she’d be doing, Chase hired her anyway. “She sends fruit baskets at the holidays, picks up Chase’s dry cleaning, handles accounts payable.”
“She keeps Chase in line.” Ellen shrugged. “He knows what Cyrus is. It scares him. She calms him down.”
“Is she a wolf?” Finn asked.
“No, but Cyrus likes her.” Ellen shook her head. “Cyrus prefers humans. Easier to dispose of.”
A dull ache started at the base of Olivia’s neck. Miss Rangell was working for the Others? She kept Chase calm and in line. Had kept—past tense if he was dead. Chase. How could he do this? How was her brother capable of such things?
“So, we go after Miss Rangell?” Dante asked.
They all looked at Finn, waiting for his answer. His nod was slow. “We’re not doing this half-assed,” he promised. “It’ll take time and planning. I’m not losing anyone.”
“Chase is a better target, if he is alive.” Ellen looked at Finn. “Cyrus scares him. He is weak. If he feels threatened, he would betray Cyrus.”
Like he betrayed her. To save himself.
Ellen stared at her for a long time, and then beyond her to Mal. Finally, she left the room without another word.
Mal’s arms slid around her waist, pulling her back against him. “Let me hold you, please,” he whispered in her ear. She shuddered and turned, pressing her nose to his chest and breathing him deep. She needed the comfort only he could give her.
“We’re believing her?” Anders asked.
“There’s nothing to gain by lying about this.” Hollis stood. “We should be grateful she said as much as she did.”
Olivia pressed her eyes shut. It would be easier to dismiss Ellen’s story. But she couldn’t. The cage and the terror—how many girls had been kept there? What had happened to them? How many more would follow if they didn’t do something about it?
“Damn hard to feel grateful right about now.” Anders anger was tangible.
“She told us a hell of a lot more than we bargained for.” Dante sounded sad.
“A lot to think about,” Finn mumbled. “Not a word to Brown, understood?”
She couldn’t concentrate on what they said, couldn’t get beyond what she’d learned. It wasn’t just Chase that betrayed her. Her entire life was based on a lie. An evil, horrible lie. Mal hadn’t dragged her into this life—her father had, when she was a little girl.
Chapter Eighteen
Mal closed the bedroom door behind them and led her to the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub, dazed and pale, but didn’t say a word. He turned on the faucet, making the water nice and hot before kneeling in front of her. Damn, he hated to see her like this.
Fuck Ellen and her pearls of wisdom.
No, he should have pulled Olivia out of there before the shit hit the fan. It was his job to take care of her, not lead her in front of the firing squad. Not that he’d had the slightest idea what Ellen was going to say. How could he?
But now it was out there. Whatever memories Olivia had were forever tarnished. How could she think fondly of her past, of vacations or gifts, without it being tainted by what her father was capable of?
As for Chase…his wolf would only be happy when he was in pieces. He’d been willing to give her up, to trade her to Cyrus? But she didn’t need his anger. She needed his support. He could swallow the rage for now. He’d had years of practice.
“Olivia,” he whispered, rubbing one hand between his. Her fingertips were ice cold and tense. He watched her eyes drift close, but she stayed withdrawn, and it killed him. “Olivia,” he repeated. Slowly, her fingers warmed, and her hands clutched his. “I’m sorry.”
Her hazel gaze shook him to the core. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said. “I wanted to know the truth.”
He cradled her face. “The truth according to Ellen.”
Her hands covered his. “I believe her, Mal.I wish I didn’t, but I do. And so do you.”
He didn’t argue—she was right. Everything Ellen said made sense—horrible, awful sense. The problem was nothing could be said or done to make it right. Olivia knew this; the torment on her face told him so. “Tell me how to make this better.”
“You can’t.” Her lower lip wobbled. “I just want to do something. To find them, save them. We have to stop it from happening again—to anyone.”
He nodded. “We’ll figure it out, Olivia.”
“Promise me?” she asked.
“I promise I will do everything I can to stop it—to stop him.” And he meant it.
She nodded, shivering.
“Shock,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “Water’s hot.” He nodded at the nearly full tub. “It’ll help you warm up.”
“Join me?” she asked, letting him pull her shirt up and over her head. She pulled the tie of her sweatpants, letting the soft fabric pool at her feet. He loved that there was no modesty between them.
“Not a good idea,” he confessed.
“It’s a very good idea,” she argued. “Make me feel good, Mal.” She took his hand, pressing it to her bare breast. Resistance was impossible. His thumb stroked the tip, rolling the nub until it pebbled hard. His pulse kicked into overdrive, sending his blood southward with evident results. “That’s what the bath is for.” Because baths and condoms weren’t a good idea.
With a little frown, she stepped into the bath and sank into the clear water with a sigh.
“Hungry?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Thirsty?” he asked.
She looked at him. “No.”
He nodded, sitting on the floor and resting his chin on the lip of the bathtub.
She slid her fingers through his hair, drops of water running along his jawline and back into the tub. “Talk to me.”
“About?” Because talking came so naturally to him.
“You.” Her fingers slid through his hair again. “You know I’m the daughter of an organized criminal, whose whole life was a lie.” Her attempt at a joke made her sniff and blink rapidly.
“Not anymore, Olivia,” he promised. “No lies here. That I promise.”
She sniffed, giving a slight nod. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
Damn, what he would give to kill Cyrus right now and drag his body to her—so she could rest easier. Her voice wavered as she went on. “I know you’re a big manly wolf I’ve attached myself to for all eternity. I’m not complaining. I’m just curious about your day job and your parents and where you grew up. You know, normal stuff.”
All things she should have known by now. “My dad raised me. He died a few years back—heart attack. Mom left before I was old enough to remember her.”
“Only child?” she asked, moving around so her face was close to his.
“Why mess with perfection?”
She smiled.
“Jobs.” He stared at her. “My dad worked for Dean, Finn’s dad. He was a damn good mechanic. Finn’s dad valued my father, helped me get into the right schools. Finn and I grew up together. He was my best friend. But once I figured out Dean was paying for everything, I acted like a shit and ran off, ashamed of my dad for taking a handout. I bummed around, using what my father had taught me to pay the bills. Finn tracked me down. Our reunion vacation turned me into a wolf, and I took off again.” He shook his head. “Finn and I didn’t talk for a long time. I tend to move around a lot. I wouldn’t want to put a target on the people I worked for.”
“No one special in your past?”
Mal cleared his throat. He’d locked memories of Jude deep inside, to keep himself sane. It had gotten easier in
time, but he knew he’d never fully recover from what happened. He could lie to Olivia, pretend she’d never existed, but he didn’t want secrets between them. “Once.”
“I didn’t mean to pry, Mal. It’s none of my business.” Her fingers stroked along the side of his face.
Only Olivia would say something like that and mean it. “Her name was Jude, and we were engaged. I thought I’d be able to make it work, even as a wolf. But the Others found her.” He shrugged, his brown gaze searching hers.
“Did she know?” Olivia’s voice was soft.
“That I was a late-night-movie monster?” He shook his head. “I never wanted her to.”
She nodded. “I’m so sorry Mal.” She slid closer, kissing his forehead. “I’m so sorry.”
He was, too—for Jude. He’d wanted Jude, wanted the family that came with her. She’d been funny and sweet, bringing joy to his life again. But his wolf had known. His wolf had tried to leave, running farther and farther from their apartment every time they shifted. The wolf had been waiting for its mate. And now they’d found her.
“I wish I’d taken you up on your offer.” He held her hand up, kissing each fingertip. “Me, you, and a beach in the middle of nowhere.”
She smiled. “Maybe we can convince Finn we need a getaway. He could buy our own little island, set up a new refuge just for the pack. Surround it with all sorts of defenses and wolf-eating sharks.”
He laughed. “Wolf-eating? Different than man-eating?”
She grinned, shrugging. “Fine, Others-eating. Maybe Hollis could scent train them or something?”
“If that was a thing, Hollis could do it.” He adored this woman.
She nodded. “We should talk to him.”
“Sounds good.” He sat up, reaching for the shampoo. “Lean back.” He poured the gel into his hand and ran it through her hair. “You? After you got your graduate degree, what did you want to do?”
“Work in a museum. Growing up, it felt wrong to see these pieces of history sold off. I always thought history was exciting, and artifacts were something meant to be shared with everyone, for anyone to learn from.” She sighed, closing her eyes. “It all seems so far away now.”
He rinsed her hair, wringing out any remaining shampoo suds.
“Mal.” She grabbed his hands. “Your turn.” She tugged.
He shrugged out of his clothes and climbed in, facing away from her. Her breasts pressed against his back, silky soft. Her legs fitted against his sides, cradling him against her. He closed his eyes, relishing each caress as she washed his hair, using her nails on his scalp until he was groaning. She laughed, massaging the muscles of his neck and shoulders before biting the nape of his neck.
He was pretty damn relaxed by the time the washcloth was gone and her hand started stroking his ever-ready erection. If she wanted him, he wasn’t going to argue. But he wasn’t going to take any chances, either. He gripped her wrist, eased her hand away, and stood. “Bed.”
She nodded, taking his hand and letting him rub her down with the thick towel. But she was impatient, tugging the towel from his hands and launching herself at him before he’d fully dried off.
He carried her back to the bedroom and laid her on the edge of the bed, standing between her thighs as he rolled a condom on, then lifted her hips. She was panting beneath him, hands gripping his forearms as she arched up to meet him.
He slid deep, growling at the heat that welcomed him home.
...
Olivia closed her eyes, focusing on the slide and tug of Mal inside of her. The friction was magic, raking her from head to toe, teasing her with flares of pleasure, flooding her with hunger.
She slid her hands over his, then up her sides and over her head, stretched out across the mattress. He pounded into her, the bed shuddering beneath her, making her rock. Her breasts bounced in time, another jolt to the senses. His fingers tightening on her hips ratcheted up the swell of heat and want tightening her stomach and melting her insides.
She looked at him, then, in tune with her body. And his.
His arms and neck were clenched as he battled his release for her. He was so beautiful, so powerful, the relentless thrust of him—again and again—making her weightless. His muffled groan made her tremble.
“I love you, Mal,” she whispered.
He came instantly, his chest and stomach, arms and hips clenching. He pulsed inside her, his release driving her own. She arched into him, the slow burn blazing over her and setting each nerve on fire. She cried out, her hands gripping the edge of the bed as pure bliss took over.
He fell forward, his lips seeking hers. His kiss was heaven. Mal. Hers.
She wrapped her arms around him, needing him—needing comfort. He was all she had left now, the only real and solid thing in her life, and it thrilled her. And it crushed her.
The sting in her eyes was unexpected. Worse was the sob that slipped from her lips. She’d been so strong. Now she was going to fall apart?
Mal braced himself over her, the sadness on his face crumbling her resistance.
She covered her face and sobbed.
Mal was off her in an instant.
“No,” she said, reaching for him. “No.”
He tugged her into his lap and wrapped her tightly in his arms. “Cry. I’ve got you.” At least he shared her grief. Knowing that helped. He smoothed her tangled hair from her temple, burying his nose and breathing her in. She’d done the same, pressed her face into his chest—seeking his scent and the relief it offered. “I won’t let go.” He rocked her, leaning against the headboard and pulled the quilts up and over them.
She had nothing to cry about. Her heartache and tears were for the victims of this new life she lived. Evil had always existed, on the nightly news or the latest election cycle, but it hadn’t touched her. She’d lived in a bubble—a privileged, sheltered bubble—with no true understanding of what darkness existed.
Mal. Finn. The pack.
Ellen and Tess.
These people had always been there. While she’d been bouncing from graduate school to graduate school, they’d been fighting monsters. She’d been studying history, stressing over her GPA and whether Chase was taking care of himself since he was on his own.
Chase. Bile flooded her mouth. She’d never hated someone before—she’d never had the need. But hate was just the beginning. He disgusted her. He’d known what he was doing. She’d been a bargaining chip to him, something to use when it would best suit him.
And their father. She couldn’t think about him.
“I need to believe my mother was clueless, Mal.” Her words were broken and raw. “I need to have someone left in my past.”
“She didn’t know,” Mal assured her. “I’ve seen her, in your memories. Her eyes weren’t haunted, Olivia. She didn’t know. And she loved you completely. Like I do.”
He loved her. “You love me.”
His nod was tight—and amazing.
She clung to Mal, her arms so tight she worried she’d hurt him. But he didn’t argue. His arms were fixed, holding her close. He loved her. His heartbeat was rapid because he ached for her. Hurt with her. Understood her. Loved her. When the tears finally started to ease, her head was pounding and her arms, still vice-like around Mal, were shaking.
“I’ve got you,” he said again, his lips brushing her temple.
She looked up at him, studying the stubble-covered line of his jaw, his thick neck and strong shoulders. “I know.” She eased her hold on him.
He stared down at her, his frown and the furrow between his brows both deep. “It’s not over yet.”
She pressed her fingers between his brows, smoothing the lines away with a smile. “It’s hard to accept. Chase, I mean. But there are no more surprises. I know now what makes things go bump in the night, and that not all monsters are monsters. You and I are proof of that.” She ran her hand across his chest.
Mal was rigid, his eyes darkening.
“What’s wrong?” she w
hispered.
“I want to kill him,” he ground out. “He gave you to them. And I can’t let him live for that. Even if he is your brother.”
She swallowed.
“Once he gives us what we need—” He broke off, his gaze boring into hers.
She drew in a deep breath. “One step at a time, right?” she reminded him. Rage rolled off him, simmering just beneath the surface. “First, we plan.”
Mal’s nod was tight.
“But now we sleep?” she asked, bone-weary.
He kissed her, soft and sweet, then clicked off the bedside lamp. She lay with his heart beneath her ear, unable to stop the images in her brain. Her own heart felt bruised after so many painful truths.
And Mal’s? Jude. He’d loved someone enough to marry her, and he’d lost her to the Others. If Mal had uncontrolled rage, he had every right to it. What they’d done to him, body and spirit, was unforgivable. She wanted vengeance for him.
“You’re not sleeping.” His voice was gruff.
“Neither are you,” she said, running her fingers down his arm. “Why not?”
“Ellen.” He sighed. “Her eyes.”
Olivia looked at him, able to see him just as clearly now as when the lights were on. Some wolf things were cool. “What about them?”
“All of Cyrus’s victims have the same eyes—devoid of color, pale. Ellen’s are not.” Mal’s voice was low.
“If Cyrus didn’t turn her, is she an Other?” Olivia murmured.
“I’m not sure.” He rolled over her. “But since we can’t sleep, I say we wear each other out until we can.”
His lips found hers. He tasted too good to refuse. His teeth nipped, his tongue dipping into her mouth. Her hands ran over his back, tracing the dozens of scars that covered the skin. Cyrus did this to him. Fury rolled over her. She had no choice but to channel all her rage, all her frustration, into loving Mal.
Chapter Nineteen
Mal paced Finn’s office, listening to every detail. Again.
“We take them out and take their place,” Anders repeated. “Easy.”
“He’ll get suspicious.” Dante shook his head. “If he panics, he can bring a shit-storm of Others down on us.”
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