Jason was mildly surprised not to sense anyone else inside. “Do you live here by yourself?”
“Yes. There’s a small apartment above the garage. I haven’t been in there in a while. It will probably need some dusting.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” he answered automatically, and wondered where her mother was. If perhaps she was in another home nearby. He’d like to know how Lily had fared all these years without Dean. If she’d found happiness.
Or if, like him, she was more comfortable alone, preferring not to remember their past.
They walked toward the garage separated from the house by a small covered walkway and went up the stairs. He tried not to watch Shay’s backside as she climbed the steps, tried very hard, but she offered such a nice view. He hung back as she opened the door and walked in.
Shay gasped as she stood in the doorway, her hand fluttering to her throat. Alarmed, Jason stepped past her into the room and stilled. Buddy, who had followed behind him, whined, turned and ran back down the stairs.
Jason stared wide-eyed at the large cracks fissuring the walls facing the house. They left long gaping fractures in the Sheetrock.
“I am so sorry,” Shay said, walking farther into the room. “We live on a fault line that has been extremely active lately. I’ve been having the same problem in the house. I just bought more Spackle today.” She lifted her tote bag. “I’ll take care of these right away.”
Jason stiffened, trying not to show his reaction to the voices whispering behind the walls and echoing through his head. The Gauliacho. Couldn’t she hear them, too? No. Not yet. But they made her uncomfortable. As they should. These weren’t simple cracks. These were openings, gateways to the other side. Soon they would be wide enough that no amount of Spackle in the world would be able to stop them from coming.
He couldn’t stay there. And neither could she. Not another day longer.
* * *
Shay stared in horror at the cracks shredding the wall of the apartment. They were much bigger than the ones in her house. These ones were almost big enough to see through, but instead of wisps of pink insulation or even a glimmer of studs behind the Sheetrock, all she could see was darkness. She inched forward, clutching the Spackle in her hand, but as she took that first step, fear, unreasonable and unexpected, swept through her. Whispers filled her mind, unrecognizable and yet somehow familiar.
She froze, her limbs stiff and unyielding as she listened harder, trying to grasp the sounds. Were they words? Yes. But how? Then the sounds became clearer, the syllables running together.
Abomination.
Fear strangled her throat, squeezing it within its fist to the point that she couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe.
Abomination. Abomination. Abomination.
Walls don’t speak! Dizziness swam through her and she faltered. She tried to breathe, to force open her mouth and gasp a breath, but she couldn’t. The room spun, nausea roiled through her stomach. Darkness filled the edges of her vision. And then Jason was touching her, holding her arm. Steadying her. She turned to him, her mouth opening but emitting no sounds, the question burning in her eyes.
Do you hear it, too?
With a whoosh, her lungs filled with air. She gasped, quick shallow breaths. His aura was strong, bright. Chasing away the darkness as she hung on to him. He didn’t say anything and an awkward silence lingered between them.
“I...uh...I’ll have to fill the cracks before you can stay here,” she said, glancing back at the wall. “I’m afraid something in the walls is making me sick.”
Even the air felt off and it didn’t smell right. It seemed darker somehow, bleaker, and the scent of sour earth filled her nose. What was happening to her? She must be coming down with something. Tea and perhaps a nap and she’d be right as rain, as her grandma used to say. “The insulation must be toxic,” she continued, muttering, babbling as she faltered again.
“It’s going to be all right. I’ll take care of you,” he said, and before she could respond or even contemplate his words, she was up in his arms, cradled against his warm chest. She didn’t know if the whispering had stopped or if she was so consumed by his body heat, by his heady, earthy scent that she no longer heard the disturbing whispers. She breathed his scent deep, holding it within her, as if it alone could protect her from the darkness.
She didn’t know why, but she no longer felt sick or scared. She nestled close to him as he carried her out of the apartment, down the stairs and into the yard before he set her back onto her feet. She stood there, leaning into him, her hands on his chest, feeling his warmth beneath the palms of her hands. She didn’t want to let him go. But she had to. She didn’t even know him.
Once she stepped away and was standing on her own, embarrassment took root and spread quickly through her. She had never been one of those needy women who couldn’t take care of herself, who needed a man around her. And yet that was what had just happened.
“I’m so sorry about this.” She stammered, “I—I don’t know what came over me.”
He looked down at her, smiling. Which made it even worse.
“I really should get these groceries in the fridge.” She patted the tote bag still slung over her shoulder then turned and quickly walked toward the house. After a second, she realized he wasn’t following her. She turned back to him and found him standing in the same spot, staring after her, a look of concern on his face. Heat warmed her cheeks and quickened her already frayed nerves. “You want to come in for a cup of coffee?”
He nodded, an eager smile lifting his lips. “I think coffee would be a great idea.”
He was concerned about her. Why? He didn’t even know her. She climbed the steps up her porch and hurried into the kitchen with Buddy close on her heels. She went right to the sink and busied herself filling the carafe of the coffeemaker with water. Still trying to determine what had just happened. She’d become so lightheaded, she’d almost fainted and this man, this stranger, had caught her in his more-than-capable arms and she hadn’t wanted him to let her go. She sighed. To make matters worse, this man who had shifted her libido into overdrive was sitting at her kitchen table.
She tried not to think about that. Or about the fact that she felt so comfortable around him. Sometimes he looked at her as if he knew her. As if she knew him. Crazy. And the way she felt when he touched her... She had definitely never felt like that before—all tingly and aware. She glanced at him, sitting in one of her kitchen chairs, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked good there. He looked...comfortable.
Once the coffee began brewing, she put a kettle of tea on for herself. Jason stood and perused her pictures on the wall. Photos of herself with her parents back before Dad had died and everything had become so hard for them.
“Your mom and dad?” he asked. His words were casual, but there was nothing casual about the tension in his shoulders. Why was he looking at them like that?
“Yep,” she said and filled her grandmother’s antique cream jar with milk and set it on the table with the matching sugar bowl. She used the set every day, trying to feel closer to her so she wouldn’t miss her so much. Some days it worked; some days it didn’t.
“Where do they live now?” Jason asked.
Was there more than idle curiosity in his voice?
“They aren’t. Living, that is,” she said more harshly than she’d meant to.
Confusion wrinkled his forehead. “Oh. I didn’t know. Sorry to hear that.” And he looked it, too. Much more than he should for someone who had no idea who she or her parents were.
Anxiety twisted through her as it hit her again that she’d invited a man she didn’t know into her home. She was alone with a complete stranger. A too-good-to-be-true stranger.
And no one knew.
“I know what it’s like to lose your family,” he
said as sadness filled his eyes. “To be alone.”
She gave herself a strong mental kick for being so paranoid. Here was this nice guy, who had done nothing but help her and try to make small talk, and she was thinking the worst of him.
“I’m sorry about the apartment,” she said, deciding the best thing to do would be to change the subject. “I’m afraid Mr. Henderson was right and I’ll need to get the foundation checked. I don’t think it’s inhabitable.”
For a moment he didn’t say anything, just sat at the table as she placed the steaming mug of coffee in front of him. She dropped into the chair across from him and added milk and honey to her tea.
“I am a contractor. I do remodels for a living and I don’t believe the problem is with your foundation.”
She perked up at that news. “Really? That would be great news because, honestly, I can’t afford that kind of extensive repair.”
She took a deep drink of the soothing chamomile. At first it hit the spot, but after a second her stomach flipped over on itself, sending a painful cramp slicing through her abdomen. She grabbed her middle and bent over.
Jason stood. “Are you all right?”
She tried to straighten but was in too much pain. She wanted to assure him that she was fine, but another racking wave shot through her. “I’m sorry. I must be coming down with something.”
“You should lie down.” He reached for her, his hand on her arm, pulling her out of the chair.
“Oh, I couldn’t. We still need to discuss....” Sudden weakness and a spike in her temperature killed the words on her lips. But she had to say them. They had to talk. How could she sleep with a strange man in her house? And what was she going to do with him? He couldn’t stay in the apartment, foundation issues or not.
“I insist.” He slipped his hand around her waist, helping her walk. And once he did, once she stared up into those gorgeous pale bluish-gray eyes of his, she knew she couldn’t fight him. But more than that, she knew she didn’t need to fear him. Though, for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine how she knew.
He led her into the living room and over to her large comfy couch. “Just for a little while,” he said as she fell into the deep cushions. He pushed the hair back from her face and it took all the effort she had not to tip her head into his hand. To seek comfort from him.
“I’ll check out the cracks in your apartment to see what needs to be done, then we’ll talk.” He looked around the room, noticing the cracks she’d tried to spackle on the wall above the TV.
Before she could respond, she started to drift off. She felt the warm familiar threads of her grandmother’s afghan being pulled up over her shoulders, and heard him softly whisper in a deep, commanding voice, “Buddy, stay.
“You’ll be safe for now,” he whispered, and she couldn’t help thinking what an odd thing for him to say, but before she could determine what he meant she succumbed to the dark.
* * *
Jason left the room with Buddy keeping watch over Shay and walked outside. The afternoon was growing late. With the shortened days of fall, soon it would be dark. He walked back down the road toward town and his truck, which he’d left parked outside the small grocery store.
His wolf scent was much stronger than hers. But with the crystals on his wrist, he had another day’s protection from the Abatu before the stones stopped working. Then he’d attract the demons himself. If only it hadn’t taken him so long to find her.
He had hoped he’d have more time to build her trust before he had to drop the truth on her and explode her world. But time was a luxury they no longer had. From the size of those cracks on her walls and the way the change was affecting her, they would need to get on the road first thing in the morning or risk what would be coming through those walls after them.
He climbed into the truck and drove it back to her house, parking in front. He had all the necessary supplies he needed in the back—rope, knife, flashlight, water, extra food, extra clothes. He just hoped he wouldn’t need to use any of them. But she was changing fast and from what he could gather, she had no clue who she was or what was happening to her.
How could Dean have been so careless? He knew the danger a fledgling wolf faced. How could he not have prepared her or at least told Lily what to tell her? He ran a hand over his face and wondered when Lily had died. Maybe they hadn’t had time. That was the only explanation that made sense. Maybe they’d died too soon, when Shay was still too young to understand.
Grief tugged at his insides and he wished once more that Dean had chosen to stay at The Colony. Obviously if he had, he’d still be alive today and there wouldn’t be as much dissention in the pack.
Malcolm was a good leader. A strong leader. But there had been grumblings about his methods, his integrity and honor. Not something anyone would ever have said about Dean Mallory. Dean had been as honorable as they came, which was why he’d left to marry Lily when she’d become pregnant. It was the right and honorable thing to do. The only thing to do.
As Jason sat there staring at the little house, thinking about Dean’s daughter inside, he couldn’t help wondering if Lily had known the truth about them. Had he ever told her? Or had he gone to his grave never letting the love of his life know his true nature? That he wasn’t like everyone else. That he wasn’t human.
Jason shook his head as the magnitude of what Dean could have done hit him. Had he really loved Lily that much? Had he made sure she never had to make the choice to give up her humanity, to give up her ties to her mother, to the outside world only to have to spend the rest of her life with wolves? That’s when Jason knew the truth of his thoughts. Yes, he’d loved her that much and more. Only now his daughter would pay the price of his silence. Dean had gambled on the fact that, as a half-breed, Shay would never make the change, that she’d stay human. He’d been wrong.
Now it fell on Jason to have to tell her the truth about herself and her heritage. He would be the one to tell her it was time to give up everything and everyone she knew and move to The Colony with no forewarning of what was to come. Of what her future would bring, her responsibility to the pack and her need to marry Malcolm, the pack’s leader.
He only hoped she’d come with him peacefully.
Chapter 3
Jason breathed in deep the salty ocean air. It had been a long time since he’d been able to enjoy the beach, the crashing of the waves, the sand between his toes. They were so close, he wished he and Shay could have even an hour together to walk along the shore and get to know one another better before he had to tell her about The Colony and about Malcolm.
It was imperative that she understood how important she was to the pack. Her marriage to Malcolm was the only way to bring peace to The Colony, to stop the grumblings and whispers of war. She was Dean’s daughter; she was next in line as successor. As Malcolm’s wife, they would rule together. Side by side, they could bring peace.
Jason walked back into the house. Shay was still sleeping as her body struggled to adjust to the changes going on within her. He sat in the chair next to her, watching her sleep while contemplating the best way to tell her she’d have to leave everything behind.
The crystals twined into the rope on his wrist began to prick his skin. He rubbed his wrist then noticed the faint scent of sulfur drifting into the room. He stood, his gaze immediately going to the cracks in the wall. Dammit, he’d thought he’d have more time. He hurried into the kitchen and, one by one, began pulling family pictures off the wall and placing them in the canvas tote bag Shay had used for her grocery shopping. She would want these and it would be a long time before she would be able to return to get them. If ever.
With the bag slung over his shoulder, he hurried back into the living room. It was time. It was almost dark and the whispers coming through the cracks were getting louder and almost...comprehensible. He sat on the sofa next
to her and gently shook her shoulder. “Shay, you have to wake up. We need to go.”
“Huh? Go?” she muttered, trying to rouse herself from a deep sleep.
“Yes, it isn’t safe here.”
“Not safe?” She sat up, rubbing her eyes and staring at him, her face crumpled with confusion. “What do you mean? Where do we need to go?”
“To The Colony.”
“Where?”
Buddy whined at her feet.
He knew what was coming. The dog had enough wolf in him that he could smell the acrid scent filling the room, a cross between sulfur and vinegar, a sign of the demons getting closer, of barriers being breached.
“Where have I heard that name before?”
“The Colony? Hopefully from your dad. He used to live there. In fact, he sort of ran the place.”
“What? When?” She started to stand but, unsteady on her feet, she quickly sat back down again. “I’m confused. Is that where you’re from? This colony?”
“Yes, I’ve come to get you.”
“But what about the candle shop remodel?”
“It can wait,” he lied. “What’s important is getting you to safety.”
Her concern grew to fear as she came fully awake. He could smell it in the subtle shift of her scent. Could see it in the tensing of her shoulders and the way she kept moving her hands across her thighs.
“I didn’t know I was in danger,” she said, her voice soft enough to almost be a whisper.
“I’m sorry. I know this must seem strange, coming out of the blue like this from someone you’ve never met—”
“That’s putting it mildly.” She got to her feet and walked into the kitchen and toward the coffeepot. She took down a clean mug and poured herself a cup, then popped it in the microwave.
He’d spooked her. “I know how this sounds, and I wish I had more time for you to trust what I have to say, but I made a promise to your dad that... I promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I’m not about to break that word. We have to go, and we have to go now. Take only what you absolutely need. You have ten minutes, tops, to get your stuff together.”
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