Betrayed: Book Two - The Road to Redemption

by Nicky Charles

  “Clumsy of the Beta to let you see this happen.” Damien was curious as to Harper’s take on what had occurred.

  “I didn’t realize at first. In fact, it was a few years before I discovered the truth. Once I did, I dealt with it the only way I could.”

  Damien rose to his feet, the papers in his hand. “It’s a tragic story, but not one that would shock Sam.” There had to be more, Damien reasoned. Something else happened that Harper wanted to keep from Sam, something he didn’t want found in his private papers.

  Harper pressed his lips together and shook his head. “That’s the gist of it; all you need to know anyway.”

  Damien didn’t contradict him, but in his gut he knew the man was lying.

  “Did you find what you’re looking for?” Harper held out his hand expectantly and Damien handed over the pages that he’d flipped through. Thankfully, during the initial confusion, the old man hadn’t noticed the files they were returning.

  “No. Perhaps the pile over there?” He gestured towards a stack on the table near the window.

  Harper shook his head “I’ll check those myself in the morning. And before you start whining that Sam wants that report now, you can tell her she’ll just have to wait. I’m still the Alpha here, and it won’t make a hill of beans worth of a difference if Sinclair has to cool his heels for a day or two.”

  Whining? Damien bit back the smile on his lips. He couldn’t ever remember being accused of that. “I’ll pass the message along to Sam.”

  “You do that.” Harper began feeding pages into the fire again. “And send Flo back. That dinner will be cold by now.”

  Damien hesitated. There was definitely something significant in the papers that the old man wanted to keep buried. It wasn’t any of his business, but Dante was and somehow Dante knew about the whole debacle. “The room’s warm with the fireplace burning. Why don’t I let some of the evening air in to help cool things down?” He moved to the window and fiddled with the latch. Harper didn’t turn, seeming to be lost in thought as he stared at the crackling flames.

  The files were less than a foot away.

  “I’m surprised the house doesn’t have central air.” The distant sounds of traffic spilled into the room as he pushed the window open. Damien used the noise to cover his movements, quickly sliding random pages out of various files, hoping they’d give him a general idea of what was inside of each. If anything proved to be of interest, he’d find a way to sneak back in and get the rest of them.

  “Air conditioning? Don’t need it. Bunch of wimps who can’t stand a bit of hot weather, that’s what people are nowadays. Too damned expensive to run, too.” The old man grumbled.

  “True.” Damien quietly folded the pages, and tucked them into his waistband before pulling the edge of his shirt over top. He walked to the door. “I’ll give Sam your message.”

  “And send for Florence.”

  “Of course.” Damien pulled the door shut, wondering at the relationship between the two. Not mates, but more than patient and caregiver. Flo had a look about her when she was with the old man.

  Intent on heading to his room to read over the papers he’d purloined, a sound from below had him pausing on the landing. From his vantage point he could see the front door. Sam was holding her leather jacket, seeming to test the weight in her hand, her face a study of indecision.

  “Not sure if it’s yours?” He couldn’t resist the teasing comment.

  “Hmm?” She looked up at him. “No. I was going to go for a ride, but I’m having second thoughts. My head’s pounding.” She shrugged. I think I’ll sit on the porch instead.”

  “Good idea.” He paused. The weary set of her shoulders tugged at him. “I’ll join you in a minute, if you don’t mind. I just need to send Florence to see your grandfather.”

  She gave a barely perceptible nod and opened the front door, disappearing into the darkness.

  Damien headed to his room and tossed the papers on his bed. Why he’d said he’d join her, he had no idea. He should be reading through these papers, not sitting on a porch wasting his time. Yet, even as he pointed out the folly of his choice, his feet were taking him downstairs. A quick stop to deliver the message to Florence and then he made his way outside.

  The porch was in darkness, the sun having set some time ago. Damien’s eyesight quickly adjusted to the change in lighting, locating Sam sitting on the porch swing. Her head was propped up by her hand, purplish smudges showing under her closed eyes. He hadn’t taken much notice of how she looked earlier, but with her guard down, it was easy to see her weariness. Was it the strain of being Alpha, or worrying about the takeover that was taking its toll on her?

  Or, his wolf whispered, our relationship?

  We don’t have a relationship, he silently countered.

  His wolf sniffed and raised a brow. Liar. There’s something between us. We just haven’t figured out what it is.

  Damien scowled, not wanting to be reminded of the conflict that raged inside him.

  He walked across the porch, his steps sounding on the wooden planks. “Mind if I sit down?”

  “Would it matter if I did?” She opened one eye and peered at him.

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. She always had a comeback.

  “Maybe.” He sat down anyway, the swing creaking a bit under his added weight.

  She didn’t reply.

  Using his foot, he set the swing into a gentle rhythm, the newly repaired chains and moorings silently doing their job. It was peaceful, just sitting there, the occasional passing vehicle or the sound of distant voices punctuating the chirring of night insects. Damien inhaled deeply and sighed, relaxing into the seat.

  The scents of the city intermingled with hints of the approaching autumn; drying grass, the mustiness of leaves beginning to decay, the sweet smell of ripe fruit from the apple tree out back. He chuckled softly thinking of how their apple picking had gone the other day.

  “What?” Sam turned her head to look at him.

  “Nothing. Just thinking about apples.” He slid his eyes sideways to look at her.

  A grin slowly spreading across her face. “You looked damn funny with that apple on your head.”

  “Glad I could amuse you.”

  They shared a brief smile, neither spoiling the moment by bringing up the fight they’d had afterwards.

  Sam let out a gentle sigh. In contrast to the heat of the day, the night air was cooler and damp. A cold front was predicted to be moving in, bringing a storm that would finally break the unseasonably hot spell. Already the beginnings of a breeze were stirring the leaves and causing goose bumps to rise on her skin. The heat generating off Damien’s body made the chill of her own that much more noticeable. She shivered and rubbed her arms wishing she’d worn her coat rather than leaving it on the newel post.

  Much to her surprise, Damien shifted closer and moved his arm so it rested across the back of the swing near her shoulders. Despite his behaviour in the cellar, he must have at least one chivalrous bone in his body. His warmth wrapped around her, comforting and secure. Briefly she thought of moving away, denying what might be seen as a weakness, but then went with the moment. She relaxed her muscles, surprised that she’d been holding herself that tense.

  Neither spoke. He continued to rock the swing gently. Eventually, his fingers began to play with the hair at her nape, occasionally brushing over her skin. The fleeting contact sent frissons of awareness through her and she twitched her shoulders.

  “Still cold?”

  “No. My…er…shoulder muscles are tight.”

  Damien gave a grunt and pushed on her shoulder, turning her so her back was to him. “I’m pretty good at this.” He dug his thumbs into her muscles, probing and pressing on the knots.

  “Hmm…” Sam gave a moan of relief as the tight muscles began to relax. “You are good.”

  “Thanks. I used to do this all the time for my—”

  “Don’t say it.” She reached back an
d laid her hand on his thigh. He was going to mention his mate again and she really didn’t want to spoil the harmony between them.

  Damien paused his ministrations. In the window, she could just make out his reflection. His mouth had tightened. Sam was sure she could see him swallow hard as he closed his eyes briefly before giving a sigh and continuing to work the kinks out of her muscles.

  “Sorry.” She whispered the apology, feeling mean-spirited and selfish. The man had obviously adored his mate. What right did she have to want to intrude, to force him to abandon his cherished memories? Love and devotion should be celebrated, even encouraged. And yet, she was drawn to him, wanted him to choose her.

  “Sam…” He stilled the movement of his hands. They rested on her shoulders, the heat generating from them soaking into her flesh.

  “Yes?” She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, ignoring his reflection in favour of studying the peeling paint on the window frame.

  “I… I like you.” The words seemed to be forced from his throat, harsh, as if spoken against his will.

  “Thanks.” She wet her lips and then dared to ask. “Is that you or your wolf talking?”

  “The wolf…and me.” He gave a rueful laugh. “We both find you…interesting.”

  She nodded. “My wolf…and I…feel the same way about you.”

  He squeezed her shoulders gently and then she felt the faintest brush of warm moisture on the back of her neck as if he’d run his lips over her nape. Her heart started to pound faster, warmth washing over her as she recalled his kisses from the previous day and where they had led.

  “Duty…strength…” She felt him trace over the words and her stomach fluttered as she wondered where this would lead. Should she push for more? Last time she had they’d ended up having sex, yet it hadn’t brought them any closer together. “Your grandfather was a wise man when he said these were important qualities for an Alpha.”

  Sam forced herself not to twist her fingers into fists. Don’t give anything away she told herself. Keep it light. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Did you find the missing report in grandfather’s papers?”

  “No.” His breath teased her ear and she could feel him inhaling deeply, taking in her scent. “He had a few more files that he said he’d go through.”

  “It’s okay. I was getting worked up over nothing. Even without that one report, I have enough evidence to convince Lycan Link that Sinclair is talking out of his ass.”

  “Probably.”

  He’d been brushing his thumbs over her shoulders, but he abruptly stopped and removed his hands. She could sense him pulling back, both emotionally and physically. What had caused the sudden change? She quickly reviewed her last statement yet found nothing about it to warrant his retreat.

  The cool night air filled the space between their bodies, emphasizing the distance between them. Hell and damnation, how had she let herself fall under his spell again? Damien liked her, but he’d spoken of nothing deeper. It was wishful thinking on her part that he was hinting at anything more.

  Suck it up, she told herself. You don’t always get what you want in life. She’d learned that at a young age.

  Sam stood up and rolled her shoulders, forcing her tone to be light and detached. “Thanks. That feels better.”

  “Headache gone?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Good.” Damien stood as well, the movement bringing him into close proximity again. She took half a step back denying the awareness that sparked between them.

  “I’d…er…better get inside. There are a few things I need to finish in the office.”

  “Yeah. I have some things I need to do, too.” He flicked a glance at her, then looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  To keep from touching her? The idea was intriguing, but she didn’t allow herself to explore it. She was trying to be noble, after all. “See you in the morning.”

  “Night, Sam.”

  “Night.” She went inside and pulled the door shut behind her. Through the window, she could see him standing on the steps staring up at the sky. Was he looking for inspiration? Talking to his dead mate? Or simply admiring the constellations? It didn’t matter. Damien was her Beta and, unless he did an about face, that was likely all he’d ever be.

  Chapter 27

  Damien lay awake for hours staring at the ceiling. His mind, heart, body, and soul were at war with each other and he couldn’t see any way of resolving the situation. He’d like to be able to blame Sam, but truth was she’d done nothing that night to encourage him. Unlike previous encounters when she’d been the instigator, tonight it had all been his fault.

  He’d been the one to move closer when she’d shivered. He’d started massaging her shoulders. He’d pressed the light kiss to the nape of her neck. Thank heaven she’d mentioned Kane. It had knocked some sense into him before he’d made a monumental mistake.

  Betraying Beth once, he could almost forgive. To do it again… He shook his head. His body might respond to Sam’s physical attractiveness, but that didn’t mean he should act on it. His heart and soul belonged to his blood bonded mate.

  She’s been dead three years, his logical half stated, but you’re still alive…

  Round and round the arguments raged until he flung the covers off and sat up, dragging his hands through his hair in frustration.

  His wolf was strangely silent, and so was Beth. He’d tried to summon her earlier on, but only a fleeting image had wavered in his mind’s eye. She’d seemed distant, smiling softly, her attention fixed on some distant place he couldn’t see. A part of him feared she was angry with him, but Beth wasn’t like that; she’d always forgiven him, no matter what.

  Rubbing his face, he spied the papers he’d taken from Harper sitting on the bedside table. Since he wasn’t sleeping he might as well do some reading. Switching on the bedside lamp, he hitched up the pillows behind his back and grabbed the first page, peering at the faded scrawl.

  ‘The woman my son mated has destroyed our blood line. I don’t know why he can’t see it. Every time I look at the child’s eyes, I know the truth.’

  A sneer curled Damien’s lip as he read the words and then recalled what Sam had told him that night in the pond. ‘Tainted blood’, wasn’t that what she’d said? He shook his head and flipped to another page.

  ‘My son is dead. My heir, my future. I’ve no idea what to do. Gary says not to worry, he’ll do his duty by the pack. I know I can depend on him. He’s a good man, but I’m loath to see the territory pass out of the family. It’s been our heritage for years. There is the child, of course. A female, but at least flesh of my flesh. If only her eyes didn’t give her shame away…’

  “The bastard.” Damien spat out the word, imagining how Sam must have felt growing up, believing her very existence had brought shame to the pack. Resisting the urge to crumple the paper and toss it out like the garbage it was, he set it aside and read the next one.

  ‘Gary’s fighting me on this. He doesn’t think the girl can one day lead the pack. In a way I can’t believe I’ve come to this decision either. For years, our pack has supported The Cause and yet what other choice do I have?’

  Well, this seemed to confirm what Marcello had said. The Beta had wanted to take over and Samantha would have been in his way. Old man Harper mustn’t have been aware of the fact though. There was no hint that he didn’t trust the Beta implicitly.

  After skimming the rest of the page, Damien went back to look at the other two, searching for other entries that had to do with Sam or the Beta. There was a lot of information about what had been served for lunch, the arrival of the latest electricity bill, boring stuff and not what he was looking for. It seemed Harper was the kind who kept notes on everything, thorough to the point of being obsessive.

  The distant sound of the hallway clock chiming reminded Damien it was three in the morning. He yawned, his eyes feeling gritty, and set the papers down. It would seem that he’d have to pilfer a few more papers fro
m Harper’s personal collection if he wanted to learn more about what happened with the Beta. True, it wasn’t really any of his business, but he could justify it by saying he was trying to determine how Dante had learned of the situation. Sliding down in bed, he adjusted the pillows and began to plot how he’d get his hands on Harper’s files.

  Sam let out a muffled scream and grabbed a nearby mug, ready to chuck it across the room, only the realization that it was one of her favourites kept her from completing the action. She set it down and grabbed the newspaper, proceeding to rip it to shreds.

  “I take it you didn’t like your horoscope?” Damien wandered into the room carrying two cups of coffee and eyeing the shredded bits of paper on the floor around her.

  “Don’t mess with me today, Masterson. I’m not in the mood.” She tossed down the last bit of paper on the floor and then kicked it out of her way so she could pace the room.

  He raised his brows and held out one of the cups. “I brought you a coffee. Looks like you might need it.”

  “Thanks.” She accepted the cup and took a gulp not caring that it was still hot.

  Wisely, he said nothing and after a few minutes she calmed down enough to speak. “I had another communiqué from OPATA.”

  “And?”

  “Sinclair has another complaint against us.”

  “Really?” He sat down, legs casually extended and took a sip of his coffee.

  “Yes. He says that since I was never listed as Beta on the books, I had no right to step into the position of acting Alpha. If anything, you should be in control since your name is on the official roster as the most recent Beta in the pack.”