“I mean, I always think of alleys as being dark and creepy. But this place is gorgeous.”
Eric had to agree. The Alley was stunning, built in a secluded, slightly sloping glade and surrounded by the wild, natural beauty of the forest. It housed the Runners’ individual residences, since they lived separately from the pack. There were ten cabins in all, though Runners only lived in six of them, with Eric taking the seventh. And thanks to some hard work, they had all the modern amenities there in the Alley, from power to hot water and high-speed internet access, just like they did up in Shadow Peak.
He parked the truck beneath the shade of an oak tree, beside one of the rustic, porch-fronted structures. “This is the cabin I use when I’m here.”
* * *
Climbing out of the truck, Chelsea took a deep breath of the crisp, fresh mountain air, her eyes a little wide as she took in the surreal setting. Sunlight filtered into the clearing through the leafy trees, casting dazzling splotches of gold across the grassy carpet. It was like something out of a fairy tale, which sent a shiver of unease down her spine. Fairy tales always came with monsters, and she couldn’t help but feel that there was something unnatural about this strange, primordial place.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, obviously noticing her shiver as he came around the front of the truck to join her.
“I don’t know. I just get the feeling that there’s something...different about this place.” Turning to face him, she asked, “What is it you said your friends do again?”
“They hunt a lot, among other things.”
A frown wove its way between her brows. “You mean animals? Or people? Are they like bounty hunters?”
“You could say that,” he drawled under his breath, avoiding her gaze as he flicked his cigarette into the damp grass and crushed it out with the tip of his boot.
“Hmm. I seem to be saying everything, doing all the talking, while you’re being evasive.”
Bringing his gaze back to hers, he said, “Look, I know there’s a lot I need to explain. I just need you to be patient a little longer for me. Can you do that?”
“I guess I can try,” she muttered, wishing he would just talk to her now, rather than later. What was he waiting for?
As he held her stare, something primal and hot burned in his heavy gaze, the gray of his eyes looking impossibly bright in the dappled sunshine. “I promise that you’re safe here, Chelsea. I wouldn’t have brought you here if you weren’t.”
“I just don’t like not knowing what’s going on. Especially given the circumstances. I mean, I don’t even really know you.”
* * *
“And despite everything that’s happened,” Eric said in a low voice, “you still don’t trust me, either. Do you?” He couldn’t help but feel a little bitter about that, considering everything he’d done to protect her.
She got that pinched look that some women got when they were pissed. “That’s not fair.”
Eric snorted. “Yeah, well, life’s like that. And you’re old enough to have realized it by now.”
“What’s wrong with you?” She sounded baffled, and maybe even a little hurt. “Why are you acting like this?”
Because he was stupid, that’s why. Even though he knew anything between them was a nightmare in the making, his freaking feelings were hurt by the fact that she wasn’t happy about being stuck with him. He could see it in her eyes...hear it in her voice. And she was going to be even less happy when she learned what he was. It wouldn’t be right to keep it from her, with her staying here, and he wouldn’t do that to her. But he knew what it would cost him. Knew the wedge would be driven even deeper between them, and it pissed him off, tapping into some growing pool of anger that churned inside him.
He was losing her before he’d ever even had her, damn it, and it made him want to throw back his head and let out a long, furious, bloodcurdling howl.
Not that he could explain any of that to her. She’d probably just shoot back some smartass comment about how he must have missed his meds, and he figured he could do without the humiliation.
“Come on,” he grunted, jerking his chin toward the cabin. “I’ll show you around inside.”
He grabbed her pack from the truck, and they made their way up the porch and through the front door, into an open living area with high ceilings, the dining room and kitchen sectioned off from a large sitting room by a row of low bookshelves. The floors were hardwood, the walls painted the color of pale cream, with sturdy, rugged leather sofas and chairs.
Eric couldn’t take any credit for the decorating, since it had all been Elise’s doing—but he enjoyed the way Chelsea’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping a little as she looked around the place.
“The bathroom is in the back, between the master and guest bedrooms,” he told her, setting her bag down by one of the coffee-colored sofas. “Clean towels are under the sink. And there should be plenty of hot water, if you want to take a shower. I can grab mine later.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you tired?”
“Exhausted,” she admitted, covering a small yawn.
“Well, after your shower, you can lie down for a while and rest. Feel free to choose the master or the guestroom. But don’t go outside without me. I’ve got to run out for a while, so just wait for me to get back.”
Caution crept into her gaze, and he could detect a sliver of fear in her mouthwatering scent. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of prisoner.”
“Not at all,” he said, shaking his head. “I just need to bring the others up to date on what’s going on, and I don’t want you wandering around getting lost. I’ll send Torrance over to keep you company.”
That sliver of fear began to bleed into angry frustration. “I don’t need a babysitter, Eric. And who is Torrance?”
“She’s the wife of a friend named Mason. They live in one of the cabins here. You’ll like her, so be nice.”
“I always am!” she snapped, looking thoroughly insulted, her pale cheeks flushing with color.
He didn’t even bother to comment. He just snorted again.
“Though you’re being exceptionally rude—” she glared as she picked her pack up, settling it on her shoulder “—I’m still going to say thank-you again. For what you did last night.”
Her prickly tone goaded him into deliberately riling her. “Not necessary,” he drawled, giving her a slow smile. “You don’t ever have to thank me for making you come, Chelse.”
If he hadn’t been so irritated, he would have thought her reaction was priceless. She stumbled back a step, big blue eyes going all wide and shocked again. “I meant for helping me at the club,” she said after a moment, each word formed with slow, careful enunciation. “And you can be such a jerk!”
“Yeah. And you can be an uptight little bitch.” His gaze followed her stiff form as she stormed across the room. “We sound perfect for each other!”
“You wish!” she shot back over her shoulder. A second later, the bathroom door slammed shut, and Eric stood there in the middle of the floor with his arms crossed over his chest, wondering what exactly had just happened.
He wanted nothing more than to follow her into the bathroom, and right into the damn shower, but forced himself to make a quick change into some clean clothes, before heading back outside. It was necessary to put some distance between them, since each moment he spent in her company took him that much closer to the edge. Christ, the woman already had him acting like a friggin’ idiot!
As he headed down the sloping glade, he caught sight of the Runners and three of their mates standing on Mason Dillinger’s front porch, each and every one of them watching him, as if they’d been waiting for him to make an appearance. For a moment, he wondered what the hell they were all doing, just hanging around together in the middle of the day, then realized they’d probably planned to get together for lunch so that they could gossip about him.
“Where’s the human?” Jeremy called out, a bottle of beer cla
sped in one hand, while his other arm was wrapped around Jillian’s waist, holding her close to his side.
Hands shoved deep in his pockets, Eric made his way over to the cabin. “She’s grabbing a shower.”
Brody Carter stood near his wife, Michaela, his auburn hair hanging loose around his shoulders, while Cian lounged in one of the rocking chairs that had been placed to the left of the front door. The others were all either sitting in wicker chairs or standing with one hip hitched up on the porch railing, like Mason.
Keeping the chair rocking with one foot, the other perched on his opposite knee, Cian lifted his nose and sniffed at the air as Eric got nearer to the group. A deep sound of appreciation rumbled in the back of the Runner’s throat, as if he’d caught the scent of something good. “Damn, Drake. Your human smells tasty.”
Eric stopped in his tracks on the bottom porch step, his hands fisted in his pockets, and cut a narrowed-eyed glare at the grinning Irishman. “Don’t even think about it, Hennessey.”
“Think about what?” Cian asked, arching one ebony brow. “How good she smells?”
“About her,” he forced through his gritted teeth. “At all.”
The Runner threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, man, this is too classic.”
Eric slid a dark look toward Brody, who appeared to be fighting back a smile. Damn traitor. “Shut your friend up, Carter, before I do it for you.”
“Aw, come on,” Cian drawled. “I’m your friend, too. You just have to learn to put up with me.” A lopsided grin kicked up the corner of the Runner’s wide mouth, his voice a little softer as he said, “And it’s easier if you just give in.”
“There’s nothing to give in to,” he muttered, something about Hennessey’s tone telling him he wasn’t going to like where this conversation was headed.
“S’that right?”
Eric could tell the Runner was no longer talking about the two of them. He was talking about him and Chelsea. “You need to back off, asshole.”
A sharp burst of laughter rumbled in Brody’s broad chest. “Come on, Drake. You can’t blame Cian for the yearning state of your heart. It’s written all over your pretty face. He’s just calling it like he sees it.”
Eric’s lip curled as he snarled at the grinning Bloodrunner. “Her goddamn life is in danger. That’s the only reason she’s here. My heart has nothing to do with it.”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” Brody murmured, slowly stroking his jaw as he played up his study of Eric’s belligerent expression, his deep green eyes shining with humor. “I mean, you do look like you’ve been bitten by the love bug, man. Big-time.”
“Piss off,” he grunted as he headed up the steps, looking forward to knocking the stupid grin right off Brody’s face. Just because he’d said similar words to the Runner when he’d been fighting his need for Michaela didn’t lessen his anger, though he knew he was feeling more frustration than anything else.
“Enough!” Mason barked, the gruff command at odds with the crooked grin on his face as he stepped in front of Eric, blocking his advance. Looking at the others, Mason said, “Let’s take this inside before the poor guy blows a fuse.”
“It’s at times like this that I wonder why I put up with you,” Eric muttered, following the others inside as they all made their way to the kitchen.
“You talking about me?” Brody asked with an expression of mock devastation as he leaned back against one of the counters, a grinning Michaela at his side. “I’m crushed, man. Crushed.”
“I’m talking about all of you,” he snapped, which had the crazy jackasses laughing and slapping him on the shoulder, as if he was meant to enjoy their ribbing when his goddamn life was being turned upside down.
“So bring us up to date, starting from the beginning,” Mason said, once everyone had made it inside and cold sodas had been passed around, along with a few cold beers. “Jeremy filled us in as much as he could, but I want to make sure we’re all on the same page.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Eric leaned back against a counter and told them the story, starting with the call from the scouts on Friday night, then taking them through to that morning, without any unnecessary details about the effects of the drug Chelsea had been given...and what he’d had to do to ease her way through them.
“So you just left her at the Travelodge in Wesley on Friday night and drove away?” Mason asked, the corners of his mouth dipping with a frown. “You didn’t think to put a set of eyes on her?”
“No.” He grabbed his beer off the counter, took a long drink, then wiped his mouth and said, “To be honest, it never occurred to me that she wouldn’t listen when I told her to get her little ass out of town.”
Brody laughed. “You’re such an alpha, Eric. You think too much like a wolf. But she’s human. A stubborn one, from the sound of it. She doesn’t think like pack.”
His response was wry. “Trust me, I noticed.”
“So now that she’s here, what’s the plan?” Cian asked, propping the kitchen chair he was sitting on on its back legs. That was one of the things Eric had noticed about the Runner once he’d started spending so much time at the Alley. The guy was always in motion, never quite managing to sit still.
Before Eric could answer Hennessey’s question, Mason said, “You’re going to have to trust her with our secret. We don’t allow humans to stay here without knowing.”
“If her sister is where I think she is,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “she’s going to learn the truth eventually, anyway. Might as well be now.”
“Are you going to do it?” Brody asked.
“Hell, no. She doesn’t exactly trust me.”
This time, it was Cian who laughed. “Smart girl.”
“Who, then?” Mason asked.
“Torrance, if she doesn’t mind,” he replied. “I thought it might be best, since she’s human and still pretty new to our world.” Part of him felt like a coward for not doing it himself, but his gut told him this was the kindest way for Chelsea to learn the truth about his species.
“I don’t mind,” Torrance said with a smile, her green eyes soft with understanding.
“Take Jillian with you when you go over,” Mason murmured, pride and protectiveness burning in his gaze as he spoke to his wife.
She nodded. “Good idea. And I’ll take Michaela, too.”
“I’ll stay here,” Carla Reyes, the lone female Runner, murmured, speaking up for the first time. “The last thing this woman needs is me there freaking her out.”
Her partner, Wyatt, snorted from his place on Eric’s right. “Yeah, you are pretty freaky, ReyRey.”
Carla replied with a sharp smile, looking ready to go for blood, but Mason put the conversation back on track before things got out of hand. “Then that’s settled. Torry, Jillian and Mic will go over and talk with Chelsea this afternoon. Which brings us to the next problem.”
“Figuring out what we’re going to do about the idiot assholes running things at that club,” Jeremy supplied, his gruff tone making it clear what he thought of the situation. He sounded as ready to kick ass as Eric felt, but this wasn’t a situation they were going to be able to charge right into.
“Jeremy’s right,” he said. “But first, we need to know exactly what we’re dealing with.” Pushing away from the counter, Eric hooked the empty chair in front of him with his foot and joined those who were sitting around the kitchen table. “We need to find out why they have all those human girls working there, and what the hell they’re doing with the drug they used on Chelsea. We also need to find out if the Youngblood pack has finally washed their hands of the Donovans. That might explain their partnership with the Whiteclaw.”
“Either that,” Wyatt offered, his dark eyes hard with worry, “or they’re looking to beef up their numbers because they plan on making a move against us. The whole goddamn region knows we’re ripe for the picking.”
“Shit,” Brody muttered, pulling a hand down his scarred face. “We could have handled th
e Whiteclaw or the Donovans on their own, but they’re going to be a pain in the ass together. We should have seen this coming.”
Mason shook his head, a disgusted look on his face. “We’ve been so focused on keeping the pack together, we’ve lost sight of what’s happening around us. We’ve been worried about the troublemakers who wander onto our land, when it’s the ones controlling things beyond our borders that we need to be focusing on. The ones plotting in the background. It could turn out to be a mistake that ends up costing us.”
“It’s more than likely already costing those girls at that club,” Eric said grimly, finishing off his beer with a final swallow. “We need to know what’s going on down there. And to find out what’s happened to Chelsea’s sister. Whoever the girl is with, it’s someone who has a connection to that place.”
“Wyatt and I can get a surveillance group on the club,” Carla said, “but it would help if we could get to someone on the inside of the operation. Is there anyone we can talk to from either the Whiteclaw or the Donovan family who might give us some answers?”
Sayre Murphy’s soft voice floated in from the hallway. “You could ask Sophia Dawson.”
Jeremy sighed as he shot a chastising look toward the empty archway. “Sayre, what have I told you about eavesdropping on Bloodrunner business?”
A second later, his sister-in-law came into view, an impish grin on her face. At eighteen, she still looked more like a girl than a woman, though it was clear she was going to be a stunner, with those blue-gray eyes and all that curly, strawberry-blond hair. Eric pitied the poor boys up in Shadow Peak who would no doubt lose their hearts to the waifish girl.
“I didn’t mean to overhear,” she explained, “but Torrance said I could use the computer in the office, and your voices just drifted in. If you didn’t want to be heard, you shouldn’t have been talking so loud.”
Looking as if she was fighting back a smile, Jillian said, “Sayre, what did you mean about Sophia?”
Pushing her hands in her pockets, the girl propped her shoulder against the archway. “She was dating this guy from the Whiteclaw pack last summer. His name is Brandon something or other.”
Dark Wolf Rising (Bloodrunners) Page 11