“They must know I’m a storm-wielder.”
“Lydia, we’re all still investigating—”
“I killed him.”
“That’s daft.”
“No, it’s true. Lawrence tried to warn me to stay away, that I was putting him in danger, and I didn’t listen.”
“Please stop. Don’t do this to yourself.”
She wondered how she was still talking with all the tears streaming down her face, but she was a babbling mess. “Did you see what they did to his legs?” she choked out.
Taylor’s face hardened and he looked grim. “I did. And this isn’t your fault. It’s nobody’s fault.”
“Why would they do that?”
He sighed, looking defeated, some burdening thought playing out behind his eyes.
“What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”
He shook his head. “Ryan came back a few hours ago. He’s with Lawrence.”
She frowned. “Okay.” Was that an answer she was supposed to understand or was he trying to change the subject? “Is Lawrence all right? I almost hit him with…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
“He’s not hurt.”
“He shifted.”
“Yeah.” There was an edge to his voice, and abruptly, everything fell into place with vertiginous speed.
He always keeps his trousers on…
The bespoke motorcycle with the grooves in the seat…
He never shifts…
The stunning white wolf, sat at her feet…
I’m no good for you … I’m about as damaged as they come…
The chainsaw…
He never runs with the pack…
“Because he can’t,” she whispered.
“What did you say?”
She stared at Taylor, realisation flooding her system the way Lawrence’s blood did – that hadn’t been her dream; it had been his memory. “He doesn’t run, because he can’t. I don’t believe it.” She bolted out of bed and made for the door.
~*~
It had been years since he’d felt this cold. Not just cold – desolate.
Not even Ryan hurtling out strategies and debating the next move could fire him up. The vision of Brendan’s fate burned into his mind and he felt it all the way down to his… Fuck. “I was going to tell her last night.”
Ryan stopped mid-speech. “Going to tell who, what?”
“Lydia. About what happened to me.”
“Good. She should know.”
“Except I didn’t because of the Trident showing up and Taylor tearing off … and now it’s too late.”
“It happened twenty years ago. One more day doesn’t make it too late.”
He slumped forward in his chair. “I was ready to forfeit a mate, you know that. The way I forfeited my Alpha status to you. This is why. What happened this morning is exactly why—”
“What the fuck were you going to do? Hide in your study forever? Live the rest of your life out pretending it never happened? It’s not up to you if, when, where or how you find your mate – as proven. You’ve spent two decades secreting yourself away so The Trident would forget who you are, told nobody about your demise – your disability – all so you could keep the pack safe, and it’s worked, but now what? You’re trapped because of your silence. And now they know. Somehow, The Trident know about you. It’s time to come out of hiding.”
Lawrence looked at the wolf who had saved his life all that time ago. It had been too late for his sister, but Ryan hadn’t given up on him. He could have. He could have left him for dead. A rogue at the time, Ryan had found him, killed The Tridents single-handedly and dragged him, bloodied, beaten and ruined, to the derelict building he’d been squatting in. He’d fed him, nursed him, bandaged all that was left of him, and watched him fall apart over the years as he struggled to exist as half a man; as half a wolf. Why? Because of the Gunvald name. Because in werewolf society, Gunvald meant royalty and you were loyal to your crown.
Well, the Gunvald name had all but died that day, his entire family wiped out. He was the last. “Why did you save me?”
Ryan growled at him, his face growing thunderous. “Don’t you start with that self-pity bullshit again. I’ve spent half of my life listening to it; I won’t listen to it any more.”
His anger coiled. “It’s not self-pity, it’s my damned reality. I put everyone in more danger by existing. I’d have been better off—”
“If you say it, I’ll knock you into a whole new reality,” he warned.
Lawrence squared his jaw stubbornly. “I’d have been better off dead.”
In a move that would have put the Incredible Hulk to shame, Ryan lifted Lawrence’s desk and hurled it half way across the study.
“Hey!” Lawrence jumped to his feet, but Ryan shoved him in the chest, hard, and he went flying back down towards his chair. The chair went backwards with him in it. “Shit! Are you insane?”
“You drive me fucking insane,” he muttered.
Lawrence rose to his knees – bearable if necessary, but never a comfortable position for him at the best of times – and only then did he realise Ryan was rummaging through his weapons cupboard. The Alpha emerged with a sledgehammer.
What the—
With a kick he didn’t see coming, Ryan sent him tumbling back down again, then planted a foot on his diaphragm, pinning him down and winding him.
The wolf in him rose, but he battled it back down. “I know what you’re doing. I won’t shift. I won’t.”
“You don’t know shit.” He swung the sledgehammer and brought it down across Lawrence’s shins.
“FUCK … FUCK!”
He didn’t realise he was screaming until the odd sound of shattering plastics, metals and carbon fibre, reached his ears. Bits of prosthetic limbs flew out the legs of his trousers as Ryan smacked the hammer down again. It didn’t matter that he had nine more pairs of state-of-the-art, designer legs in his wardrobe – the action took him back to his torture and near death at the age of seventeen.
He’d poured himself into leading a normal life since then, mostly so he’d have something to focus on other than the constant replays of his decimation … and that of his sister’s. He’d trained with the best Paralympic coaches, the world’s leading amputee physiologists; he’d invested in the most technologically advanced prosthetics available, partaking in the trials of bionic mechanisms and microchip technology, even collating his own team of scientific designers and prosthetists to invent new artificial components; anything that could be moulded to suit him – to better him in his condition – was: his motorcycle, his living quarters, his wardrobe… But one irreversible fact always remained to torment him every month. Everything he could reinvent for himself as a human, he could not do for his wolf. A man could run on mechanical legs – a wolf could not.
“You think this is what makes you?” bellowed Ryan as he brought the weapon down one more time.
“Stop!” Both his trouser legs lay flat against the floor now, although the leather was coming apart and the floor itself might have to be fixed.
Ryan swung the hammer around again, and this time when he dropped it, it fell straight towards Lawrence’s chest.
With a yell, Lawrence grabbed the top of the handle in both fury and terror, stopping it just centimetres from crushing his heart.
“This is what makes you.” Ryan let the hammer go and Lawrence fell back to the ground, clutching the thing to his chest and panting a mile a minute. “You didn’t lift a finger when I went for your legs.” He picked up the desk that he’d chucked and settled it back onto its feet, then headed towards the door, his anger still palpable in his stride. “Guess your heart means something to you after all.”
The door banged shut.
He lay there half in shock for another minute.
So, maybe telling Ryan he’d have been better of dead hadn’t been such a bright idea.
Nutter.
Can you blame him? You just told h
im everything he did to save you, that everything he’s done for the past twenty years, has been worthless too, scolded his wolf.
Crap. He hated being scolded by his wolf. No, he didn’t blame Ryan, and he knew Ryan wouldn’t hold it against him either. The next time they saw each other, the impulsive Alpha would just carry on jovially as if he hadn’t just brought the last two decades crashing down all over his greatest weakness.
Finally dropping the hammer, he reached down and undid his trousers, then sat up and pulled them down until they slid past the ends of his thighs and crumpled on the floor with his damaged prosthetics. The layers of sleeves that the legs attached to remained clothed on his residual limbs. He slid those off too and for the first time in years, looked at his … stumps. Really looked.
It could have been worse, couldn’t it? voiced his wolf. We’ve come a long way… ‘We’. His wolf had not abandoned him, even though he’d tried so hard to abandon the animal.
Did he really wish he was dead? Ryan wasn’t worthless, by any stretch of the imagination.
That sort of means you’re not either then, doesn’t it?
The door flung open and Lydia rushed in with Taylor at her heels, eyes streaming, face flushed… She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes dropping to where his legs should be.
Taylor’s followed suit.
Nothing moved in the room.
Ryan was right. His heart did mean something to him after all, because it broke right then when her expression turned to one of horror as she backed up against the wall.
“Lydia,” he said, his voice distraught. It would have been nice if it had been steady; manly … if he could feel sure of himself in any small way. Instead, he couldn’t be more vulnerable if he tried. This was him, stripped to the core.
She let out a strangled noise that spoke volumes, but it was her eyes that gave her away. He knew what she was seeing when she looked at him. She saw Brendan.
Just as he always saw his failure to save his sister when he looked at himself, now she would see her failure to save her friend.
“Lydia … no…”
She turned and fled.
He was surprised to find that he suddenly felt strangely calm.
He hadn’t lost her.
He knew what it was like to lose everything and this wasn’t it – this was … a revelation. He wanted to go after her; to salvage whatever little they had, and it had been a hell of a long time since he’d wanted anything.
Taylor crouched beside him, surveying the mess. “I wondered what that racket was while Lydia was sleeping … Ryan?”
“Yeah.”
He whistled. “I feel lucky I got the marshmallow treatment now.”
“Yeah.”
He rose to his feet, picked Lawrence’s chair up and gripped him under his arms. “Come on, let’s get you up.”
“Wait … I have to get to my wardrobe.” In a moment of awkwardness and acute embarrassment, he realised he’d never asked anyone what he was about to ask Taylor. “Can you carry me?”
Taylor looked puzzled, until Lawrence shifted.
He fought against the futility he felt as his wolf; ignored the way he felt so useless sitting on his rear with no hind legs.
Taylor smiled, no pity in his gaze – just a subtle admiration he had no idea what he’d done to deserve. “Yeah. I can do that.”
Chapter Sixteen
“He what?” said Beth as she handed her a mug of steaming hot chocolate.
“He left. Family emergency – how could he not?”
“That’s what he said?”
“Yep.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
Sarah shrugged and wiped her eyes, determined not to cry over it. “I’m fine.”
“Pffft!”
“I am! I mean, we had a really great night – really great. Apart from the wild dog that attacked us, but other than that—”
“A wild dog attacked you?”
“Yeah, it was the freakiest thing. And I had the weirdest sense of—”
“Wait, wait, wait … when did the dog attack you?”
Sarah took a sip of her cocoa. “Um … when Amil was just about to go call a cab with that waitress, and after I called that guy, Taylor – shit! I completely forgot! I think I left him hanging at the end of the phone.”
“Don’t mention that man’s name.” Beth’s face grew red with anger. “Did I tell you that Holly’s been emailing me, and laying into me for having an affair with this Taylor guy and hurting you? The woman is bona fide crazy!”
“I know. She’s on her way here for a visit, so maybe we’ll be able to talk some sense into her.”
“Why did you call him?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to know where Holly was coming from.”
“And?”
“And I didn’t get a chance to say two words to him before Amil appeared, followed by wild dog.”
Beth sighed. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”
“Yes,” she replied, dryly, “you’ve already said.”
“So, what are you gonna do now?”
“Move on with my life while secretly waiting three months to see if he’ll come back.”
“Sarah,” Beth rolled her eyes.
“Well, I really liked him … I think I might even … um…”
Now, her eyes widened to saucer size. “Love him?”
Sarah scrunched up her face. “Maybe.”
“In three weeks?”
“I know it sounds all school girl crush, but … it just sort of feels like I’m supposed to be with him or something.”
“The full moon’s coming up – maybe you’re hormonal.”
She slapped her friend on the arm with a scowl.
Beth laughed. “Sorry.” Then she smirked. “Soooo … did the new underwear get any good use?”
“Beth!”
“Well, did it?”
She knew she’d gone beetroot, which, of course, gave Beth the answer she was looking for.
“Yes!” cried Beth. “About bloody time! Was it good?”
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
“You barely ever kiss,” she replied, annoyed. “Come on – spill.”
Sarah sighed, knowing she’d never get her off her back. “It was wonderful, okay? Amazing, out-of-this-world wonderful.”
“Ugh, I knew it. I’m so friggin’ jealous. I can just imagine lying on that muscled body … was he all dominant in bed, or was he happy to let you take the lead?”
“Okay,” snapped Sarah, “I am really not talking about this any more.”
“All right, all right, just curious. People have quirks, I find it interesting. He seems like the kind that would let you take the lead, but secretly be in charge … and I’ll bet he hated wearing a condom. Honestly, some of the men I’ve been with have said the weirdest things to get out of … Hey, what is it?”
Just as she felt the blood go to her face, she felt every last drop drain from it too. “Er … I didn’t have enough breakfast this morning, and I’m sort of worn out,” she laughed, nervously.
Shit! Condoms!
“I’ll bet you are, you minx,” teased Beth, with a huge grin on her face. “It is actually lunch time. We should shut earlier today. You want me to run to the café and get you a sandwich?”
“God, yes, that would be great. And I agree – after last night, this Sunday should be a day of rest. We’ll lock up in an hour.”
“Yey!” She went into the staff room, grabbed her wallet and waltzed back out. “One sandwich coming up.”
“Thank you!” she called out after her as she stepped out of the shop.
Her mind leaped into action as soon as she was alone.
Okay, don’t stress. So you got caught up in the passion after all the craziness that took place. It happens. It was just one night. I mean, what are the chances you’ll get pregnant anyway?
Not huge.
Right.
So don’t worry about it.
But there was one thing that still niggled at her about last night: that Taylor guy had known her name.
Before she could change her mind, she picked up her phone from under the counter and dialled his number. Holding her breath, she waited for his ring tone. It never came. The line went dead – the number had been disconnected.
She pushed aside her sense of disappointment.
No, this is good. It means you have even less to worry about.
The bell above the door tinkled and Sarah let out a little ‘thank you’ for the distraction. In walked three women, giggling away as they went straight to the wedding dresses and started oohing and aahing.
I wonder if I’ll ever get the chance to ooh and aah as I pick out my own wedding dress?
She smiled and approached them, forcing the image of Amil as her groom out of her mind.
~*~
Selena fidgeted as she waited for the woman. It was bordering on quarter past three now. She was fifteen minutes late, but then she didn’t look like she could walk that fast.
In the pit of her stomach, she felt a little sick.
What have you gotten yourself involved in?
Fuck that, it wasn’t her fault. If that red-haired bitch hadn’t come whoring into all their lives…
She smelled the woman’s horrendous perfume before she saw her half-hobble, half-stride into the café. How does she do that? How does someone hobble and stride at the same time? I wonder if she puts it on.
The woman, who had introduced herself as Gladys a couple of weeks back, spotted her straight away and headed on over. She sighed heavily as she carefully descended onto her chair. “What a morning. Eighty is too old for this kind of networking. I believe I’ll be hiring a full time chauffeur.”
Selena’s fidgeting worsened. “I thought you might not show.”
“I’m said I’m old, not dead.”
Selena cringed. She hadn’t asked what was in the back of the truck she’d driven, although now she wished she had, but the smell of fresh human blood had been disconcerting to say the least. Following Lydia around – yeah, she could do that. Spying on her – no problem. Jacking her truck – whatever, she didn’t care. Jacking her truck while it held dubious cargo … well, that had gotten her back up. Then, of course, there was the moment when the cargo had been revealed and the shit had hit the fan big time. And Selena had almost had a heart attack. “Speaking of dead…”
Cry Of The Wolf (Eye Of The Storm) Page 17