The thrum of his beautiful carriage calmed him to a degree, but this time, the calmness enabled him to feel the bite of the ice that had festered inside him – in his heart.
Like fuck was he gonna let some prick take his life and blood from him.
His bike accelerated, and, as one, they blazed a trail towards Lydia.
No one was taking his life and blood.
Chapter Five
The red, or the pink?
Sarah couldn’t decide.
She held both dresses up to the mirror for the zillionth time and sighed in frustration. This shouldn’t be a problem. Children were starving in Africa and this really shouldn’t be a problem.
She threw the red dress onto the armchair beside her. It looked too slutty, and she wasn’t really the harlot type…
Then again, the pink looked a bit too ‘friends only’. She actually wanted to have sex tonight – Jesus Christ, how long had it been? Five years?
Five fucking years, Miss Should-Have-Been-A-Nun.
She eyed the red dress again. Maybe harlot wasn’t a bad way to go…
The landline rang shrilly from the hallway, and she raced out of her bedroom and down the stairs. Amil was the only person who ever called her on the landline.
Please don’t cancel, please don’t cancel, please don’t cancel!
She glanced at the clock on the wall as she sprinted to the handset on the cherry wood sideboard.
Just after 2 p.m.
Amil wasn’t picking her up until five.
Please don’t cancel!
She yanked up the phone. “Amil,” she all but shouted into the receiver.
“A-who? Sarah, is that you?”
As her brain scurried around trying to figure out who was calling her, all she could hear was her heart hammering in her ears.
“Sarah? Do I have the right number?”
Oh, my god… “Holly?”
A squeal. “Sarah! Oh, my god, it is you! I can’t believe it’s been so long – I am so sorry I’ve not been in touch, it’s just been so crazy this side of the world, and you will not believe what’s happening to me!”
Holly, her best friend from university who had moved away to Milan, and then New York, to study fashion four years ago after her degree, paused, no doubt waiting for Sarah’s reaction.
“God damn it, you don’t phone me or write me, reply to my letters, you don’t even text me for two years, and you call me now?” But it was said in jest, because Holly had always been exuberant and flaky to the max; always living for the present as if tomorrow simply wouldn’t be there.
“Is now a bad time? I didn’t think you’d be home to be honest – I was going to leave a message. Are you still making those wedding dresses?”
Sarah rolled her eyes, but smiled. It had always been like that with Holly – she just jumped straight into any conversation as if time and distance never affected anyone. She didn’t love her the way she did Beth – like family – but they had hit it off from day one of university when they had both had to sit through the most boring welcome lecture on dressmaking and design throughout the Elizabethan era. Over the past four years since she’d moved away, Sarah had missed her terribly, but whenever they did manage to talk to each other it was as if they’d never parted. “Designing them, selling them – yeah, I’m still doing that.”
Another squeal. “Will you make one for me?”
Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “You are not getting married! Are you getting married?!”
“YES!”
And it was Sarah’s turn to yell down the phone in jubilation. “You? You? The last time we spoke you were dating three guys while debating if number four would be more worth your time because of his connections in Milan.”
She could practically see Holly’s ‘that was so last year’ expression. “But I live in New York now, and Tim is … oh, my god, Sarah, I can’t wait for you to meet him. He is the man every woman wants. When he asked me to marry him I thought I’d died and gone to Heaven … or at least to his chalet in the Côte d'Azur,” she giggled. “You know, he has holiday homes in five different countries – five. And he’s just designed his own, first ever, catwalk collection which débuts this winter – can you believe he’s not gay? Anyway, he’s … and couldn’t … ive … not the way that his … other … ould … b-id-cana-din—”
“Wait, wait, Holly – you’re breaking up—”
“—llars to his … ame … What?”
“I said, you’re breaking up. Can I call you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow? That’s … ges away.”
“I know, but I’m getting ready to go out now, and I want to give you my full attention.”
“Oh, okay. An-ere nice?”
“Anywhere nice? The theatre. Russell Maddox is performing here.”
“The next Brad Pitt? That guy is so hot ov-ere right now.”
“I know. And I also need to tell you all about the guy I’m dating.” Sarah grinned. “You think yours is hot? We’ll have to take bets on which guy wins on sex appeal.”
There was a long pause at Holly’s end.
“Hello?”
The phone crackled in her ear. Shit.
Sarah gave her receiver a shake, which she knew was stupid, but still seemed like the right thing to do. Honestly, was Holly phoning from a New York basement? “You still there? The static on this line is awful – you’re really breaking up…”
“Oh, honey…”
“What. What is it?”
“Why the-ell-n’t you call me?”
Was she having a go at her for not phoning when she was the one who hadn’t contacted her for years?
“What … ppened t-ay … or?”
“What? I didn’t hear that.” This was ridiculous. “Are you still on the same number you gave me last time? Can I call you tomorrow?”
“Sar … be … vastated. He was everything to you.”
Strangely, her chest tightened with the oddest feeling of unease. “Who? Who are you talking about?”
“Well, duh. Only … hus-nd. What do you mean, who am I talk-bout?”
“Only who?”
She couldn’t tell if Holly was muttering or if the connection was getting worse. “…ut’ve been a bad br-p-really, Sarah, for you to … tend … nt … nothing to you. For fuck’s sake, we’re talking about … lor here. Tay … what the hell happ-to Taylor?”
Sarah scrunched her face up in concentration as she recalled their college days together; the times they’d discussed fashion and design; that time they’d gone and interviewed potential employees because they were on the verge of setting up a label together – the next Armani – which, needless to say, never took off… Still, she couldn’t be hearing her right. “You want to know what happened to my tailor?”
Her Blackberry rang from upstairs.
“Shit! Holly, I have to go. I will call you tomorrow, okay? If your number’s different, then text me your new one – my mobile phone’s still the same. Or email. Just get the hell in touch.”
“Wait—”
“I have to go. Speak tomorrow. And congrats, Holly!” Sarah hung up and raced upstairs, jumping on both her Blackberry and her bed in a bid to get there before it rang out.
Amil’s name blinked at her from the screen.
“Hey!” she yelled on answering, totally out of breath.
“Hey, yourself.”
She could hear the smile in his tone, and she found herself smiling back to the Smartphone in her hand, although she doubted even the phone was smart enough to tell.
“Your landline was engaged. Everything all right?”
“Yeah. Old friend. We were just catching up.”
“Sounds nice. Just wanted to make sure five o’clock still suits. I can’t wait to get this meeting over with, then,” his voice lowered, “I’m grabbing a bite to eat and heading straight to yours.”
The way he said that last sentence – practically growled it out – made her stomach clench with anticipation
and … yep, there was a clenching elsewhere too, which proved she wasn’t a nun after all.
“I’ll be ready,” she breathed into the phone, far more heavily than she’d intended, then realised what she sounded like. In the mirror, she caught herself going beetroot.
Amil laughed. “Wear something sexy, sweetheart. I want to peel it off you slowly. Every inch of you that’s revealed to me as you move and glide under my hands tonight, is mine.” He kept his tone light over his dark words. It was the darkness she responded to. It made her wet. And achy.
She bit back the moan that wafted over her tongue, but Amil must have taken her silence the wrong way because suddenly, he sounded uncomfortable. “You know I’m only teasing … I mean, we don’t have to—”
Oh, god no! “I’ll be ready, Amil,” she repeated, this time with absolute conviction as she let him hear the weight behind her words.
Another pause; a heavy breath … “Fuck,” he whispered. “I can’t wait. See you soon, darling.”
He hung up.
Sarah’s eyes landed on the dress on her armchair.
Red it is then.
Chapter Six
Lydia almost whooped for joy and started clapping when the pick-up truck made it all the way up the hill.
“Ha-ha! I knew you could do it!”
Her new baby may be wizened, but she was a tough old crone. She should really give her a name – she deserved a name. She could call her Violet – it was her middle name and what her mum had wanted to call her at birth, but her dad had objected, saying she’d be picked on at school because of the colour of her eyes, so they had settled for Violet being her middle name.
Pulling the gear stick to neutral, she switched off the engine.
“No,” she said aloud to herself, “I can’t call you Violet. That’s a stupid name for a hunk of metal, no matter how awesome you are.”
The breeze picked up briefly as it wafted through her open window, Aunt Gladys’ wretched perfume hinted on it once more.
What the…
She scanned her surroundings for the second time that day.
Nothing.
What was going on?
She sniffed at the air and could no longer detect what had clearly been there a second ago. Maybe everything was starting to get to her; all these new senses and feelings, and heightening lust. She couldn’t deny that her father and Aunt Gladys worried away at her mind. Them, and whatever the ‘truth’ about her background was. She hadn’t once contacted them since she’d discovered she was a werewolf, too uncertain of her reaction towards them and what they might have to say. The werewolf thing alone was almost too much to deal with. Some unexpected bombshell about her heritage might just tip her over the edge and at the moment, she too often felt her control on reality slipping as it was.
Dismissing her thoughts about her estranged family, she turned her attention back to why she was here. Her stomach knotted and her legs suddenly felt weak as she pushed the door open and stepped out of her truck.
She’d been careful on timing. The bikers weren’t due until three-thirty – Saturdays were the only day they rode to Barry’s in the afternoons – and it was now three o’clock. This was just enough time to see Brendan, explain things quickly from her end, then get the hell out of there before he asked too many questions.
Guilt enveloped her.
Damn Lawrence for making this hard. If he hadn’t forced her out of this job…
She let out a huff and tried not to look like she was scowling. Brendan couldn’t know anything was wrong or he wouldn’t leave her alone.
Since she’d ‘disappeared’ three weeks ago, he’d been leaving messages and texts on her mobile every day. Last week, she’d caved in and texted him back, saying she was fine but had some family issues to sort out, and that she was sorry she had to leave the way she did – that she didn’t want to leave that way. And that was the honest-to-god truth.
Damn you, Lawrence!
Brendan had not taken the hint. In fact, his texts had become even more persistent after that, demanding to know what was up, and Lydia couldn’t bring herself to be irritated by that. She’d left him and his father in the lurch, and it had been right after that horrendous night when Simon had attacked her. Brendan had been worried, and he’d been a good friend. So no, she wasn’t annoyed that he was beating down any wall she put up to try to reach her. But she didn’t want done to him what had been done to Taylor’s wife: his memory wiped because he knew too much or discovered something he shouldn’t. So she had to stay away from him. Far away.
That was the sole reason she’d made no attempt, other than that text, to get in touch with him. Certainly not with three male wolves around who could hear any conversation she might have from a distance.
But she owed him some kind of explanation, so here she was, hoping she was about to make peace, rather than everything ten times more difficult.
She made her way around to the side of the café, then towards the back where she knew Brendan would be, not least because she could smell his cigarette smoke.
And there he was with his back to her, his blond hair, neat, looking as familiar as always. She had only been living in Guildford two months when she’d started her job here, and despite the sexual slant on their friendship, Brendan really was the best friend she had here. She blinked back tears as she approached him. She did want to make peace with him, but she knew deep down that she was also saying goodbye, and it cut her up more than she had prepared for.
“Penny for them?”
He spun around so fast he dropped the unlit smoke he’d just pulled out of his carton. “Jesus Christ!”
Two strides towards her and she was in his arms, unable to keep a fresh surge of tears at bay.
“I’m gonna kill you when I’ve finished holding you,” he breathed, and then he squeezed her tighter and she settled into his bear hug, wishing she was human for the first time since she’d discovered otherwise.
She tipped her head back to look up at him. “Please don’t be mad.”
“Don’t be mad? Are you kidding me? You take off with no explanation, and after that dickhead tried to rape you as well, and you’re asking me not to be mad?”
“I know. I do. I came back here to … I needed to see you to let you know I’m okay.”
“Do you expect me to believe that?” His words held his anger, but he didn’t loosen his hold of her, as if she’d slip away again if he did. “I know this has something to do with Ryan and Lawrence – your neighbour said they cleaned your place out, and by the way – not keen on your neighbour. Fuck, Lydia, what’s going on?”
“It’s complicated.”
“You’ll have to do better than that. I even went to the theatre where you work. That was on the Saturday after you went missing. Your colleague said you were ill, but that you’d be back at work the following week. I waited; I went in again; I never saw you there.”
Yeah, she’d been avoiding him…
“So then I tried to see Lawrence.”
Oooo, that’s so not a good idea…
“But he’s never bloody around either. I feel like I’ve been ramming my head against a brick wall trying to find you.”
“Oh, Brendan,” she pulled out of his arms, but not without struggle – he seemed completely unwilling to give her up, “you should’ve listened to what I said in my text.”
“That you have family problems?”
“It’s true. I … er … Lawrence and Ryan – they sort of are my family, I just didn’t know it at the time. It’s part of the reason I came to Guildford. I wanted to find out more about my past, and from the stuff my dad had told me I knew this was a good place to start.” She hoped it sounded more like truth to him than it did to her. “It’s why I was asking about them that day Taylor came into the café. I suspected they were part of what I was looking for, and it turned out I was right.”
Brendan looked completely baffled. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Be
cause I haven’t ever told anyone. It felt so private. I’m sorry. And I’m especially sorry about taking off the way I did – that was inexcusable.” She silently cursed Lawrence for the hundredth time for sending in her fake resignation letter the way that he had.
“Why did you take off like that? I was worried out of my mind.”
“I know. I guess I just … I learnt a lot about myself in a really short space of time, and I just needed some breathing space to let it all sink in.”
He stared at her in silence, his expression unreadable, then finally ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. “I don’t buy it, Lydia.”
Shit.
“Something feels off. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No! No trouble. Everything’s fine. It really is just a case of dealing with emotional stuff I wasn’t expecting.”
He studied her. “The family issues.”
She nodded, but could tell that he remained unconvinced.
Another silence had her shuffling her feet.
“Are you coming back to work?”
She bit her lip and shook her head, regret in her heart. “I want to, I do, but … I can’t right now. Not until I sort these—”
“Family issues out,” he finished for her, arms crossed and looking utterly pissed off.
Lydia said nothing – what else could she say? “I can’t stay. I just wanted to say—” goodbye “—I’m sorry.” She turned to leave, and wasn’t surprised when he grabbed her arm and kept her from going.
“That’s it? You’re running off again?”
Indignation at his accusation got the better of her. “I wasn’t running.”
“That’s what it looks like to me.”
“Hey! You don’t know me, okay? You don’t know anything about me or my life, or what I’ve been through the past month.”
“Because you never let me in! I’ve tried to get to know you, I’ve tried to help you, I’ve offered my hand of friendship in so many different ways, and all you do is lock yourself up and away from anything that brings you close to feeling something for anybody. Even Heidi gave up trying to be your friend – yeah, did you not think I noticed how she tried to get to know you? And my dad’s been nothing but supportive of anything you’ve asked for, and all the orders you mess up…”
Cry Of The Wolf (Eye Of The Storm) Page 6