~*~
Taylor cursed Holly’s name as he glanced at his mobile, Sarah’s number driving a metaphoric stake through his heart.
Disconnect your fucking phone, you idiot.
It had been so long since she’d called him. Yet, he could still hear the last phone conversation they’d had loud and clear:
“Hey, babe.”
“Hi, I’m at the supermarket. You want spag bol for dinner?”
Ooo, Sarah’s spaghetti bolognese was to die for. “Sounds good. You having a good day?”
“Beth’s being impossible because her mother insists on meeting Stu so she can assess his husband potential.”
“How long have they been going out now?”
“Er … two days.”
“Ha. Well if he can survive Beth’s mum, he can survive Beth.”
Sarah laughed. “Very true.”
“Oh, we’ve been invited to a Halloween party over at Steve and Amy’s tomorrow night. You want to go?”
“Sure. Maybe I’ll go as Little Red Riding Hood again.”
Oh, what a fine image that had been last year. He lowered his voice. “Make sure you do.”
She giggled. “Anything for you, gorgeous. Are you going as the big bad wolf?”
“Ugh … not sure. That costume gave me a rash last time. Maybe I’ll go as the woodcutter.”
“A shirtless woodcutter?”
He laughed. “Anything for you, babe.”
“Yey! Oh, I have to go, I’m getting in everyone’s way trying to push this damn trolley. I swear, they never fit the wheels on right.”
“They build the trolleys that way on purpose so you spend longer in the supermarket.”
“Really?” she squeaked in surprise.
He smiled. She was so innocent sometimes. “I don’t know, I made that up. Sounds plausible though.”
“Ha ha. You’re impossible.”
“You love it when I keep you on your toes.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” she said, teasingly. “Okay, really gotta go now.”
“Okay. ‘Bye. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
How we take it for granted – those trivial conversations; those mundane moments that we think hold no meaning. We never realise how much we rely on the ordinariness of everyday life. When love is gone – when our entire world is gone – only then do we understand those moments are what we live for.
Answer. Ignore.
Where the hell was Lydia? She’d left him standing at the front of the restaurant, trying to look like he was supposed to be there, with Lisa offering him sympathetic glances between tables. At least it was quiet at this end, with hardly anyone milling about.
How long does it take a woman to go to the bathroom?
His phone vibrated in his hand.
Answer. Ignore.
He’d been ignoring it for nine months and it hadn’t gotten him anywhere. He had to put this right somehow. Taking a deep breath, he answered the phone.
~*~
When Lydia was ten years old, she’d been winded in the gut by a flying tennis ball.
This was ten times worse.
All the air left her lungs in a rush because she knew – she knew – who this woman was she’d just barged into.
She wasn’t sure if it was her scent, or the way she looked, or just a super-sense, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt this was Sarah.
Taylor’s wife.
And just in case there was any lingering uncertainty, the voice coming through the speaker of her phone confirmed it.
“Hello?”
Oh, god, no. Was he still seeing her?
No, he couldn’t be – she’d have sensed it, smelled it… But was he keeping in touch?
Sarah didn’t reply. The two women simply stood there staring at each other, Lydia feeling faint, and Sarah looking bewildered.
Her wolf growled inside her territorially, but gladly, she had some restraint on the animal – it had no right. No. Because just an hour ago, Taylor had brought her to a screaming orgasm and his wife was standing in front of her.
Which made Lydia the other woman.
Well, it would have if this was an ordinary kind of situation.
No – it did anyway.
Her stomach churned. She felt sick.
“Hello?”
Taylor’s voice finally seemed to reach Sarah, because she gave her head a little shake, smiled and apologised to Lydia. “I’m so sorry, I’m standing here in a complete daze. Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She couldn’t answer her; couldn’t get any words out at all.
“Sarah?”
He said her name. He said his wife’s name. She might throw up any minute now… And actually, she didn’t look like the only one. Sarah went white as a sheet and finally put the phone up to her ear. “You know my name?” she stuttered out, barely a whisper, then, with hesitation, “Taylor?”
Lydia heard his sharp intake of breath and that was enough. She needed to not be part of this conversation. He’d never gotten over her, had he? He never would. How could he when they were torn apart so forcefully; so unfairly?
And he wouldn’t ever love her because of it. Blinking back tears of hurt and humiliation, she raced back towards the restaurant and ran straight into a solid wall of muscle.
~*~
Fate was working for him again because, lo and behold, the storm-wielder had just stormed right into his arms. She should have been able to scent he was a Trident way before that, but clearly something was on her mind, clouding her senses. Bad for her, good for him.
Or maybe his luck had finally run out, because there was Sarah standing to the right, staring at him and looking more than a little confused.
He was confused too. What was Sarah doing down here? And with the she-wolf, too. Maybe they did know each other after all. Maybe his pure, innocent human knew more than she let on and had been lying to him the whole time.
He hoped not. He felt ill at the thought alone.
But cutting through his confusion right this second was the fact that he had a werewolf in his grasp. The reality of that, combined with her aroma, called his Trident to the foreground. He gripped her arms – trying not to look like he was actually gripping her, for Sarah’s sake – and talked so quietly, he knew only she would hear him. “Play along if you don’t want me to rip the limbs off that human.”
A bluff for sure – he’d never hurt Sarah – but the wolf wasn’t to know that.
“Amil?” said Sarah, still frozen to the spot, phone in hand.
Who was she talking to? His ears pricked.
“Sarah? Talk to me. Where are you? What’s going on?”
A man. And his tone held familiarity.
Amil growled low, causing the wolf in his clutches to jump, but just about managed to stop himself from shifting. That wouldn’t do – that would ruin everything. He stared down at the she-wolf once more, not needing to tell her again.
She nodded, silently.
Time to play. “Sarah, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Darling, I’ve had a call from family. It’s an emergency. I hate having to leave you, but I’ll ensure you get a cab home and I’ll pay for it. I’m so sorry, but I have to go.”
“Oh.” She looked so disappointed he almost fell on his knees to beg for forgiveness; he almost let the she-wolf go, but he couldn’t – not now that she knew his scent.
Sarah’s look of disappointment quickly turned to one of worry. “Are your family all right?”
God, she was wonderful. No – he was certain she hadn’t lied to him. Whatever was going on, she was an innocent among it. “Thank you for asking,” he said with genuine gratitude. “I’m sure they’ll be fine, but I must go.”
“Of course.”
“I can see you work here,” he directed at the she-wolf, taking in her uniform. “Perhaps we can go and call a cab.”
“Yes,” she said, surprising him a little with how loudly
she spoke. “The telephone is just the other side of this foyer.”
They started walking away from Sarah.
“Take me somewhere private,” he whispered to her.
She nodded, apparently having gone mute again.
“Wait!” cried Sarah.
He turned back to the woman who was changing him piece by piece; inside out.
“Will you call me? I want to know you’re okay.”
Fuck, his heart hurt. He hated doing this to her. “As soon as I can, I promise.”
He smelled him before he saw him, or even heard him. He whipped around to face the front again, he and the she-wolf both coming to a halt.
The wolf blocking their path was a golden brown male. He wasn’t the largest of wolves, but with teeth bared and hackles up, he looked as ferocious as any. Amil suspected he had his mate in his hands, not least because he recognised him: this was the male who’s scent was all over her blouse.
~*~
Several things had been pressing his panic button: Sarah not responding on the phone; the voice of the man who clearly knew Sarah; the sound of her anxious tone, and a deep, unfamiliar discomfort that had settled behind his navel and his heart, telling him his mate was in trouble … but it was Lydia’s voice on the phone that clicked everything into place and had him collapsing to the ground – literally – in a mass of fur and claws.
He really hoped no one had seen him shift. It had been so sudden he hadn’t even known it was happening until too late.
The foyer.
That’s what Lydia had said on the phone.
And now he found himself staring at a Trident. One who had his hands on his female, and Lydia looked shaken.
It was now or never – you should never give a Trident time to think, or time to shift.
He leapt at it, driven by the force of his anger; his need to protect…
Lydia elbowed the Trident and ducked before waiting for his response.
Taylor landed on his face, claws first, aiming for his throat.
From somewhere around him there came a scream. It was Sarah’s scream and it catapulted him back to that night, almost nine months ago. Distracted, he could do nothing about the hard punch that landed on his muzzle, throwing him to the floor.
Fuck! Why hasn’t this Trident shifted? It didn’t usually take much – they were ruled by instinct as much as wolves were. They were both in attack mode – he should have changed.
Taylor rose onto all fours, ignoring the pain radiating from his snout and prepared to leap again.
The fucker might be in human form, but he could see that there was at least a struggle to keep his beast in check, beads of sweat coating his forehead.
And that was all Taylor had time to see. A heavy weight landed on his back.
Lydia – who he now noticed had backed against a wall and held her phone to her ear – bellowed out a loud, “NO”, dropped the phone and ran towards him, and then something sharp stabbed him in the spine.
He should have seen it coming – she’d done the same thing that night, only then, he’d been the one she’d been rescuing.
A whimper left him before he collapsed to the ground again, right next to the object that Sarah had dropped: the unicorn he’d given her.
Oh, someone was having a laugh and it sure as shit wasn’t him.
Sarah backed away from him, sobbing, her hands covered in blood, and ran straight to the Trident.
“No!” But being a wolf, that came out as a bark.
Lydia fell to her knees beside him, tears streaming down her face. “I called Ryan – hold on.”
The Trident glanced at Lydia briefly, seemed unsure as to what to do, then took Sarah in a protective embrace. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said, snatching her hand.
That was her hot date? Holy fuck…
They both ran towards the revolving door and out into the night.
“Sarah…” Nope. He was still barking. Damn, he needed to shift back.
With concerted effort, he finally managed it, a yelp of agony escaping him as his bones crunched into place around his wound.
“What the hell are you doing?” cried Lydia in panic. “You shouldn’t ever shift until your wound’s healed up, you know that.”
“Sarah!” he called out after her again, properly this time.
Too late. She was gone.
His head fell back to the floor in defeat. No, he couldn’t give up. Fighting his exhaustion, he rolled onto his front and attempted to rise.
Lydia grabbed him by the arms. “No. Taylor, please sit down.”
“I have to go, Lydia. I have to save her.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I couldn’t be there for her last time; this time I can be.”
“You were there. You killed the rogue wolf – you told me so. She’d be dead without you.”
“I couldn’t comfort her.”
“Because you were bleeding, like you are now. I called Ryan. He’ll be here any second with Marco and Bill. Let them go after her.”
He shook his head. “It might be too late. She’s in real danger.” Biting his lip to stop from screaming in anguish, he shifted once more until the wolf ruled his body.
“Taylor, please.” her voice cracked. “Don’t you know what you mean to me? I can’t lose you.”
Her words from earlier tore through him. God, no, this wasn’t about that. Of course he was coming back to her. You won’t lose me.
He licked her once on her neck; a couple of times on her face. I just need to save her.
With difficulty, he ignored her crumpled face as he hobbled out through the revolving doors. But her broken words, chasing after him, were impossible to shrug off… “Then you’ll be saving her forever.”
Chapter Eleven
“It’s following us,” she gasped, for what must have been the hundredth time as they pulled up outside the Holiday Inn.
“No, it isn’t,” he seethed. “It can’t follow us – we’re in a car. It would have lost our scent by now. Besides, you wounded it.” Pride filled his chest at that image: his Sarah, throwing herself on the animal with no thought at all for her safety.
For him.
She went so pale she was almost translucent.
He switched off the ignition after parking up and took her hands in his. Blood had crusted on both of them, although the right held more signs of her wrestle.
She gazed down at her fingernails, aghast. The blood had congealed under there, too.
He lifted her chin up. “You saved my life.” It was no small amount of reverence in his tone.
She let out a half-manic laugh and shook her head. “No. I was stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“How can you say that? You’re the bravest human being I know.”
“No, no…” she kept shaking her head. Then, if it were at all possible, she went even paler, eyes glazing as if replaying the scene in her mind.
Shit. She was on the verge of hysteria.
Following nothing but instinct, he pulled her to him and kissed her, marvelling in the feel of her softness. Had he ever been so tender before? With anyone? She made him feel so—
“Human,” she exclaimed, pulling away from him with a start. Her eyes blazed with clarity. “You’re not human!”
Every cell in his body came to a standstill, the instinct that had told him to kiss her, now urging him to kill her. No! She can’t know!
But then her eyes grew hazy again and she sank in her seat, despair settling over her. “I’m sorry … I’m … shit, what a stupid thing to say.” Her voice was a stuttered whisper. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t, I don’t…” Her face fell, and she sobbed into her bloodied hands, shoulders shaking with the effort of those heaving breaths.
Jesus fucking Christ. Her pain radiated through him as if he’d coated himself in acid.
“It was like I suddenly remembered … a … dream I had,” she wrenched out. “And now it’s gone again. I don’
t know why I said that.”
“Forget it. They were just words.” He unclipped her seatbelt for her. They wouldn’t have been followed, not least because he’d thrown his larger vial of liquid – a fragrance called Operiphur that confused the hell out of any hunting animal so they lost their prey – behind his car as he’d raced away like a Formula 1 driver, but he didn’t fancy taking any chances right now. “Let’s get you inside and warm you up.”
She turned to him, wide-eyed and confused. “But it’s a baking hot night.”
“And you’re as cold as ice, Sarah.”
She gazed back at her hands, dumbfounded. “Oh.”
He sighed.
Fuck. He’d done this to her. “I’ll let you out. Don’t move.”
He scrambled out of his car, quickly scanned the area with both his eyes and nose, and when satisfied, ran around to open the passenger door.
He didn’t bother waiting for her to get out. He leant in and scooped her into his arms, awkwardly – he wasn’t little – then slammed the door shut with his elbow.
For a minute, he thought she was going to protest, panic flaring in her eyes for the briefest of seconds; and then she breathed a sigh of relief and nestled into his chest, clearly exhausted.
He had no idea what he was going to do once he got her inside. Three weeks ago, the answer would have been crystal clear: fuck her brains out, then hold her captive until the full moon, when he could go chase a thunderstorm and make her his. Tridents and wolves had chased thunderstorms on much less of a pull.
But something had changed. He had changed.
With slight bemusement, and a whole load of foreboding, he realised he wanted to make love to her – slowly and gently. More than that: he wasn’t hard. No hint of an erection stirred in his pants. Yeah, the want was still there, but he was too damn worried about her in his heart; in his—
He stood stock still, breathing heavily as the understanding dawned on him. In his soul. He could feel his soul, and Sarah wrapped around it like the rays of the sun.
Astounded, he looked down at her in his arms, fast asleep, the chaos of the evening finally taking its toll.
Cry Of The Wolf (Eye Of The Storm) Page 12