by Susan Shay
Another pause. A stare. Then he went in search of Bella. Frantic, I tried to make my brain work. What could I do to change his mind? To make him think—no, force him to think—he was wrong?
I looked around at the data he’d collected. Rows of information, logged, duplicated, and backed up. Dammit, the man knew too much. Had too much knowledge for it to be easy to fool him.
Maybe I should just wipe him off the face of the earth. My heart beat a little easier at the thought, then Bella came in and I knew she’d never let me. And in just a moment, Doc followed her, and just one look at him reminded me.
I couldn’t do it, either.
My sister rushed to me as if she thought I was sick. Or breaking out in lumps again. “Are you okay?”
“No.” I tried to think of a way to tell her my secret was out.
She looked me over, trying to assess the emergency. Since I wasn’t retching or holding my head— “What is it? Do you need me to take you home?”
“I wish that would solve my problem.”
Bella shifted her glance from me to Doc. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”
I had a feeling he was trying for a casual stance, as if what he was about to say had little consequence. He leaned on one elbow and shrugged. Then he cleared his throat, shot a quick look at me then focused on Bella. “I just told Jazzy I know—” He took a long breath.
Right there my granny, my dad’s mom, would have said, In for a penny, in for a pound. Get about it, boy. I held my breath instead.
“She carries the Syzygia genome.”
Bella’s mouth dropped open and her eyes all but popped out of her head. Very slowly her gaze migrated from Doc to me. He might have guessed she thought he was nuts, but I knew that look. It was her scramble-for-cover-we’re-in-trouble goggle.
She blinked twice, shook her head slightly. “You think my sister carries what?”
“She’s a werewolf,” he simplified. Straightening, he sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”
Bella drew her brows together, her gaze hardened as she readied to do battle. “What, exactly, put that notion in your head?” I’d never heard her speak to him with such a sharp tone.
“Observation.” His tone softened in direct proportion to hers. “Remember, I was with her at the dedication dinner. I went nuts when you whisked her out of there, then I couldn’t find her the next day. I put our pilot on standby and was ready to hire a private investigator. To find Jazzy.”
Bella just stared at him, her face draining of color.
“I took off minutes after your call. I found her on the slopes. And again during the eclipse.” His nostrils flared as he took a quick breath. “She belongs to me.”
He couldn’t have said anything that did better job of shaking me out of my stupor. Fury flamed through me, all but setting my hair on fire. “Belong? To you?” I roared my indignation as I leaped from the stool.
He moved closer, capturing me with his total attention. Cornered against the table, I had to climb over the top, knock him down or listen to him. I listened. “Yes. And I belong to you. We’re mates.”
I wanted to fight the truth of his statement. After all, I was a human first, not an animal. I carried the gene, but I wouldn’t be controlled by it. As an independent woman of legal age, I didn’t have to do what anyone or anything dictated.
Even if my body screamed for him while my heart could only beat in concert with his. Even if denying him meant dying or living a celibate life, and I wasn’t sure which would be worse.
Rather than voice my indignation, I snorted with laughter. “Sorry, guy. If mating is what you’re hanging your argument on, I’ve belonged to Perry Oliver since my senior year in high school.”
Bella moved behind him where I could see her. She smiled, although it didn’t reach her eyes, and nodded her encouragement.
Doc glowered at my mention of another man in my life. “You didn’t mate for life, or you’d still be with him.”
“And I didn’t mate for life with you either.” I put my palm against his chest and shoved. Unexpectedly, and a little disappointingly, he fell back a step back. “And now I’m leaving.”
I grabbed Bella and we headed for the door. Just as I yanked it open, I glanced at him, and my heart stuttered. Maybe I shouldn’t go. Maybe there was something to what he said.
****
When Jazzy hesitated at the door, her gaze, warm as a mesquite fire on a cold day, seared Chase. He stared after her, wondering how she could walk away from him. More than just wanting her, he had to have her near him. Without her, he couldn’t go on.
But if she didn’t share his urgency, maybe he’d been mistaken. Maybe she wasn’t really a werewolf and it had been wishful thinking on his part. Or privation.
Anger roiling in his gut, he stormed around his lab, finding the things he needed. Putting them in a small, zippered bag, he tucked them into his jacket pocket, fished his truck keys out of another pocket and headed out the door.
He stalked to the parking lot, climbed into the pickup and started the engine. After shifting into gear, he drove to the service road where he remembered to buckle his seatbelt. No use getting himself killed. He’d already made one mistake that day. He didn’t want to make another.
The drive into Dallas took long enough that he’d calmed down by the time he got to the hospital. Lucky enough to find a spot in St. Luke’s inadequate—and not a little dangerous after dark—parking lot, he locked the truck and walked inside. After a glance around, he spotted the information desk just past the gift shop, with a pair of older women manning it.
He gave the nearest one an easy smile. “I’m here to see Tony Vulasgo.”
She nodded then read through the half glasses perched on her nose. “Mr. Vulasgo is on the tenth floor. Room 1032.”
“Thank you.” He turned to the row of elevators and pushed the up button. While he waited, he checked the list of floors. The fourth floor was maternity and newborns. Eight was for surgery and ICU. Ten was for psychiatric patients.
Psychiatric patients? Unable to stand still, Chase glanced around for the stairs, but the green light came on over one of the elevators. He stepped on with several other people, and when they’d all indicated the floor of their preference, the tenth hadn’t been highlighted, so he pushed it.
Chase stayed on the elevator after everyone else exited, riding alone to the top floor. When he stepped out, he glanced around. It looked like every other hospital floor he’d ever been on. Pleasant colors. Clean smells. Closed doors. Absolutely no padded walls. Maybe those were inside the rooms.
He checked for numbers and started up the hall. After turning down another hallway, he found the room. He knocked lightly then hesitated as he stepped into the darkened room. Near the bed, Tony sat in a chair turned toward the window. “Hello, Tony.”
Chase checked the blinds to make sure they were closed. Tony could see nothing, but from the look in his eyes, he was so heavily sedated, he didn’t know the difference.
Tony’s lips moved as he whispered something. Unable to hear him, Chase crossed the room and knelt beside his chair. “What’d you say, Tone?”
Finally Tony turned his head toward Chase, but he still wasn’t sure Tony knew he was in the room. In a voice almost too low to hear, Tony whispered painfully, “Mother Mary, full…”
A uniformed woman bustled into the room, giving Chase a professional grin. “We have a visitor, I see. Isn’t that nice, Mr. Vee? We love to see friends, don’t we?” She nodded to Chase as if they had a mutual secret.
Chase stood, glad his blood draw supplies were still in his pocket. “Hello.”
“Would you like a chair? I can bring one from another room for you if you’d like.”
“No, thank you. I can only stay a few minutes,” Chase answered.
The nurse moved to Tony’s side, took his blood pressure and, using an external monitor, his temperature.
The entire time she noted Tony�
�s vitals, he kept murmuring the prayer.
“Well, I’ll be back in a little while to put him in bed.”
Chase nodded, but she’d bustled out of the room as fast as she came in, pulling the door closed behind her. He doubted that she’d seen him nod.
Pulling the bag out of his pocket, he unzipped it and pulled out the supplies. Working quickly, he strapped Tony’s arm, cleaned the site with an alcohol swab and slid a needle into a vein. As the blood bubbled into the first tube, a dark feeling settled in his gut. By the time he’d drawn both vials his entire being was drenched in darkness.
As he finished, he once more swabbed Tony’s arm, then held a dry pad over it to make sure the bleeding stopped so he wouldn’t have to use a bandage.
Just as he tucked his bag of supplies back in his pocket, the door swung open again.
“I brought you that chair,” the nurse announced, but instead of carrying the seat herself, she had a man behind her with it.
Chase fought the darkness as he searched for his normal voice. “You shouldn’t have bothered. I’m just leaving.”
The woman’s face fell as if she’d hoped he’d stay. “Oh, well. It’ll be here for you when you come back.”
He nodded, a bubble of dark mirth stirring inside him. It looked as if he’d be back in a day or two in order to give Tony that injection to kill the Lycan infection. He’d sit on it then.
If this trip was any indication, he needed to have someone with him to stand guard. He definitely would need someone next time.
Maybe he could convince Jazzy.
****
Bella sat with Jazzy in front of the TV, watching a movie. But she hadn’t paid much attention to what was playing. Her mind was occupied with Chase and his statement that he and Jazzy were mated. For life.
He’d spent too much time lately studying wolves. And werewolves. How long would it be before Jazzy could convince him she wasn’t a Lycan? How hard would that be for her sister? Hopefully, not too hard. She’d had to deny her heritage practically since she’d first learned she could morph.
Well, not denying, maybe. Hiding was really a better word. A pastime encouraged by Bella and demanded by their parents. Only their maternal grandmother had nurtured Jazzy’s animal side.
Thank God for Nana.
Jealousy niggled Bella as she glanced Jazzy’s way. Had that been Chase’s way of saying he loved her? Wanted her to be his? Had he, in essence, been proposing?
Or merely propositioning?
Chase was a perfect match for Jazzy, even if she knew better than to believe they’d mated. He was strong enough to keep up with her while not being overwhelmed by her personality. She couldn’t run over him, no matter how hard she tried.
Perhaps marrying someone like him would dilute Jazzy’s Lycan gene. Maybe, someday, in generations to come, the Syzygia strain would be completely eradicated from their family.
Bella looked forward to that day, although she wouldn’t dare tell Jazzy. For some reason, her sister had convinced herself that being a werewolf was a good thing.
“Are you hungry yet?” Jazzy asked, her tone as demanding as it was irritating.
“Yeah, I am getting a little empty. Where do you want to—”
“Pete’s Steak House and Bar.”
Bella couldn’t help curling her nose. “Jazzy, that place is so…”
“I’ll buy,” Jazzy answered.
“And it’s kind of rough.”
“Perfect.” Jazzy nodded sharply, stood and went to her room. She came back almost immediately with her purse over her shoulder. “All I want is a steak. Rare. Not ambiance. Not candle light and magnolias. Not even to watch movie stars coming and going. And I don’t want classical music while I eat. All I want is meat.”
Shaking her head, Bella got up and found her purse. “And I’m stuck eating there, too. Yuck.”
“You’ll live. And next time, I’ll let you decide where we’re going.”
Bella couldn’t help smiling at her sister. “I think you said that last time.”
Jazzy’s eyes sparked as she grinned. “I did.”
The ride to Pete’s was fast and exciting. But not dangerous. Not with Jazzy behind the wheel. It might feel as if she took chances when she drove, but she knew what she was doing. Bella knew she was as safe with her sister as any driver she’d ever ridden with.
As they pulled into the graveled parking lot, Bella thanked the heavens above that she hadn’t changed into good shoes. The old joggers she wore had enough miles on them that she couldn’t hurt them, no matter how sharp the gravel they’d have to navigate on their way inside. As long as she didn’t break an ankle, she’d be fine.
Jazzy stopped the car, unbuckled and jumped out before Bella could much more than unbuckle. Without hesitating, she took off for the restaurant with Bella in her wake. They circled past everything from farm trucks to brand new Cadillacs, and were finally inside, where the mouthwatering aroma of smoked meat greeted them.
The wood floor hadn’t been varnished or waxed in so many years, they walked on bare wood. On the walls were antique and rusted farm and kitchen implements. And there were about two acres of tables, most of which were filled.
Once seated, Bella picked up the menu and started reading through the salads.
Jazzy took Bella’s menu and closed it. “We’re having steak.”
Gritting her teeth to keep from saying anything, Bella reached past Jazzy and picked the menu up again.
“I said we’re having steak.” Jazzy reached for the menu, but Bella held on tight.
“You can have anything you want,” Bella answered without looking at her.
“This meal was my idea, so we’re having—”
“Mind if we join you?”
Startled by the voice she’d heard so often lately in her dreams, Bella glanced up to find Spencer and Chase standing nearby. Spencer grinned at them.
“No,” Jazzy answered with a flippant shrug. “Please. Sit.”
Doc took a chair, angled it toward Jazzy, and sat.
Spencer, dressed in a casual jacket and jeans, pulled out the other chair, but waited as he watched her.
She stared hard at him. Why should she let him sit near her? After his attitude toward Jazzy, she shouldn’t speak to him. Ever again.
But a glance at Jazzy, her head so near Chase’s as they murmured together after she’d just been angry enough with him to squash him like a bug, gave Bella a second thought. Why should she hold so tightly to her anger? For the safety of what’s been for so long? The comfort?
She had to either let him sit or make him stand there and watch all evening like a medieval man servant. And as enjoyable as having her own personal come-when-I-beckon-slave sounded, she couldn’t do it. After making him stand a moment longer, she grudgingly nodded.
He sat near her. Too near. “Have you ordered?” His tone was as smoky as the air around them.
“Not yet. I think I’m having the steak salad. What do you like to eat here?”
Spencer chuckled. “I have what most sane people have at a steak house. A steak.”
“And ordering a salad at a steak house means I’m not sane?” Bella tipped her head as she silently dared him to answer.
He shrugged. “At least it has steak in it, so maybe you aren’t too far gone.”
A waitress, casually dressed in jeans and a pink t-shirt that said, Pete’s Texas Steak House—50 Years of Damn Good Food stopped by their table with a pad in her hands. “You ready to order?”
“Steak salad for me,” Bella answered before someone could try to order for her.
The other three at the table groaned, then Jazzy cleared her throat. “I want the rib- eye, rare. Forget her salad and give her a steak.”
“Leave my order as I gave it to you.” Bella instructed the waitress.
“I want a rare rib-eye, too,” Chase said. “And I really think you’d enjoy the steak more than the salad, Bella.”
“No. But thank you,” she answer
ed, not a little irritated.
Spencer nodded. “Make it three rare rib-eyes. Actually, make it—”
“No!” Bella kept her voice even as she grabbed Spencer’s hand in a tight grip. “I don’t want my order changed. I. Want. My. Salad.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I was going to say, make it medium rare.”
Heat flashed through her entire body. Why hadn’t she kept quiet? She loosened her hold on his hand. “Sorry.”
“And forget her salad. Give her a steak.”
The waitress chuckled. “Want anything to drink? Or just water?”
The three steak eaters ordered beer. Bella wanted water, but after her trouble ordering the salad, decided against it. “I’ll take a beer, too.”
“I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
Jazzy spoke to Chase in a low tone, making Bella wonder if she was threatening him if he mentioned being mates again. She probably whispered so she wouldn’t have witnesses.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me as a dinner partner.” Spencer put his hand on the back of her chair.
“Think they’d notice if we moved to a different table?”
“Maybe they’d notice—” he answered seriously, then softened the words with a slight grin—”when they left to go home, found they had an extra car and needed someone to drive it for them.”
She watched his mouth. As he spoke, the corners of his lips had a way of quirking, as if he were making fun of himself. Or his words.
She’d just taken a sip of her beer when the waitress came back with a heavy tray. With an expert maneuver, she kicked out a stand next to their table, set down the tray and started unloading. In front of Jazzy, Chase and Spencer, she set platters of steaming steak, running with red juices, and a mound of French fries. In front of Bella she set a huge white bowl of salad greens, with a rib-eye steak, running with red juices, sitting on top. The waitress grinned conspiratorially. “I thought this might satisfy everyone.”
With a groan, Bella couldn’t help but agree. It looked, and smelled, like heaven.
“I can take it back for the normal steak salad, if you’d rather.” The woman widened her eyes as she waited for Bella’s answer.