by Lisa Ladew
She nodded, then turned and strode in a circle, naked and not caring. “Yeah, right. And someone to fuck until you fill her belly full of babies for the fight.” She rounded on him, hands on hips. “I don’t want babies.”
He shrugged. “Me neither.”
“Ever?”
His expression was sick. “Maybe not ever. I don’t know.”
Yep. She fucking knew it. “What happens if I reject this little plan, just walk away, say I don’t want anything to do with it?”
His voice was soft. “To you or to me?”
“Me.”
He shrugged, the most miserable movement she’d ever seen a person make. “I don’t know.”
“You.”
He shrugged again, weaker this time, and even though the torment on his face hurt her, she didn’t do anything to soothe it. He might not have thought up the babymaker plan, but he sure as shit had gone along with it, no problem. And now he expected her to just roll over and accept what she supposedly was, like a good little girl. So convenient that there was a big, bad demon ready to snatch up all the mates if they dared to live their own lives, away from the shiften. Fuck, did he expect her to cook and clean, too?
She flopped on the bed and kicked him off of it with her feet. “I need some sleep. I’ve barely had any in days.”
Mac rolled off, then stood next to the bed, like he wanted to touch her, or climb back in.
“I sleep alone,” she mumbled, then turned over, facing away from him, showing him her back, scootching over and stretching out until there was no room for him.
He didn’t say a word.
Neither did she.
Chapter 36
Mac woke up all at once, pushing himself off the floor, checking his bed. She was in it. She hadn’t somehow disappeared in the middle of the night.
He walked over to her, quietly. She was still naked, sleeping on her right side, lovely sideboob showing under her left arm, snuggled into his pillow. In her sleep, her scent had gone quiet. Still there, but muted, hovering close to her like a blanket, instead of furling out into the room like it did when she moved, talked, teased, yelled, fucked. He could almost see it, a shimmery, light aura, holding tight to her body, keeping everything that was Rogue close to her flesh.
He longed to touch her skin. Lay a hand in her hair. But he didn’t know how light of a sleeper she was, and he was loathe to wake her. He didn’t blame her for her anger the night before, he just hoped they could get past it.
If she didn’t want pups, they wouldn’t have pups. That was no problem. The two of them would have asshole pups, anyway. They’d be the ones pushing down the human kids on the playground, stealing their candy and toys, calling them names that would make their parents huff and exclaim and talk about it for weeks.
Mac grinned at the thought, seeing a little girl, tall for her age, with an athletic build and long, soft hair, chasing the boys, rubbing their faces in mud, then flipping off any adults who tried to stop it. But then his heart clenched and he frowned, turning away from the bed, padding softly out of his room on bare feet.
He opened the door, stepped through it, then closed it quickly, because Bruin was sawing logs in his living room. The big bear sounded like he was dying. All snorrrrrk, snorrrrrt, hrrrrk, urrrkkk, both on inbreaths and outbreaths. Mac found him sitting up on the couch, remote in his hand, HGTV on the TV on mute, head straight back on the cushions, mouth open, eyes closed.
Mac kicked his feet. “Bruin, wake up.”
The noise stopped at once, then Bru opened his eyes, then he picked his head up slowly and looked around. He smiled when he saw Mac. “I told you she liked you!”
“Don’t celebrate yet. She’s pretty pissed still.”
“But-but I heard you two having sex.”
Mac sunk down onto the couch. “That part was great. It was what came after. She doesn’t want pups.”
Bruin nodded. “Ah, and she didn’t like finding out that’s what she’s going to be expected to do.”
“Yeah.”
Bruin crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t blame her. She’s only twenty-five. She’s got this exciting life. Been on her own since she was fourteen, it seems. You gotta give her some time to get used to the idea.”
Mac tried not to sound as miserable as he felt. “I know. I’m just afraid she’s gonna disappear before she gives it a chance. You didn’t see her face.”
“She won’t go anywhere. She doesn’t have to have your pups to want to be your mate. Just don’t push her. You’re both young. You don’t need to start having pups for another fifteen years. Who knows, maybe since she’s half-angel, she can have them later than most people. Everybody changes over the course of fifteen years, Mac. She may wake up to you one day and be excited about it all of a sudden.”
Mac stared at the TV for a long time, not seeing the colorful pictures on it. After what seemed like a minute, but was probably much longer than that, he turned to Bruin. “You’re right, bear. How’d you get to be so smart?”
Bruin grinned, showing all his teeth. “Bears think more than wolves, Mac. We’re philosophers. We get life on a very deep level.”
“Whatever, Bearistotle.”
***
Rogue was up, pacing in Mac’s room, feeling cranky as shit, and pissed that she was still there, even though she’d had a good orgasm and finally caught up on some sleep. So Mac was a wolf, and a cop, and he could fuck good. So what? That crap about her being made for him? Fuck that. No way. Not gonna happen. She was no one’s oven, never would be. Kids were ok as long as they could walk and talk and reason. Babies? Shit no, not in a million years. She’d rather have a tapeworm inside her than a baby.
She had to get out of here. Being with Mac was cool, she liked him a lot. Especially liked how into her he was, but she needed to do it on her own terms. Somehow. She looked around at the boarded up windows and felt claustrophobia push in on her a little bit, even though that wasn’t something she generally had a problem with. She would figure a way out of here, today. Her flight to Australia would be leaving without her, but that was ok. She didn’t feel the need to flee the country anymore. Mac was cool, really cool, but that babymaker shit would be all the brakes she needed to keep him at arm’s length. Maybe she could move to another city and he could visit sometimes. Fuck her into a stupor, then leave. Hell, yeah, the perfect long-distance relationship.
She knew exactly how she would do it, too. Talk about fucking into a stupor. She’d play all nice-nice with him, sex him up until he couldn’t think, until he thought she had given in, until he passed out in the way that only a well-fucked man will, and then she’d sneak out. Somehow.
The doorbell rang and she froze, then pulled on her clothes as quickly as possible, including her flat pack around her waist, but she left the knives on the floor of the room. She made it out to the living room just as Mac was closing the door, four pizza boxes piled high in his hands.
She smiled at him, making it not too big of a smile, not too small, then flopped down on the couch they’d moved away from the door so they could get the pizza. Yeah, I’m not that pissed at you anymore. You can trust me. No need to move this couch back.
Mac smiled back and it was a big one. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi, stud.” Shit, too much, too soon. He was gonna know something was up. But no, his smile widened till it split his stupid-sexy face, his eyes going heavy. Good. That went well. Men.
Bruin came out of the bathroom on the other side of the house, spotted her on the couch, and headed for the table where Mac was taking the pizza. “Morning, Rogue,” he said, not looking at her, carefully taking the long way around the table to be as far from her as possible.
“Morning.”
Mac brought her a plate of pizza, his face still all smile-y, but his tone was careful, like she wasn’t going to like what he was saying. “My chief is coming over today to ask you some questions about Denton Smith. He needs a statement from you. Nothing big.”
Rogue raised her eyebrows. “Your chief? That seems a little excessive. Why can’t you do it?”
“Because I’m too close to you, wouldn’t be right.”
Rogue raised her chin toward Bruin. “What about him?”
“He’s not a cop.”
She knew it. She eyed him critically. “So what are you big guy, a wrestler? A lumberjack?”
“I’m a firefighter.”
“Oh.” She didn’t even have a smart comment for that one. Cool job.
The doorbell rang again. Mac went to answer it, a slice of deep-dish in each hand. He had to stack them on top of each other to turn the knob. Rogue held her breath. Meeting his chief made her nervous. How much did any of them really know about her? Not too much, she hoped. She’d never been arrested for anything, but she knew the Chicago Police Department had connected several of her crimes, knew they were calling her the pussycat burglar, knew most of them thought she was a woman and not a man, which meant she might be close to being caught. What she didn’t know was how much the Chicago P.D. talked to the Serenity P.D. and if these officers had any suspicions about her.
The chief came in the room, looking around like he’d never been in the house before. He was tall, big like Mac and Bruin, broad through the chest, with silvering hair. It looked good on him. She would have put him at about 60, but Mac had said he was older because he still had a mate, and being happily mated let the shiften live longer lives than humans. When he saw her, he gave her a kind smile, but one that said he knew way more about her than she wanted him to. Super. At least it didn’t look like he had any sort of a fingerprint kit with him.
“Rogue, this is Chief Lombard.” Rogue frowned. Where had she heard that name before? And recently.
He stopped in front of her and she shoved pizza in her mouth, so she could appraise him without saying much, without shaking hands, without giving up anything to him. He didn’t try to force the issue, his eyes shrewd.
He grabbed a chair from the kitchen table, brought it in front of her, and sat down, waiting until she was done chewing.
Fuck this. She wasn’t gonna enjoy being questioned. She would give an interview instead. “Rex Brenwyn killed Denton Smith.”
All the male eyebrows in the room raised as the three guys exchanged glances. She raised hers, too, just to be good company. When the chief was done making sure everyone else had their eyebrows raised, she snapped her fingers at him. “Oh, and he can disappear and reappear like that. Like really disappear and appear from nowhere. No Houdini-fake shit. Just poof and he’s gone or there, but no smoke, just a really bad smell.” More eyebrows. Another look. Her fucks to give were dwindling fast.
The chief looked back at her. “Why were you at his house?”
Crap. “I sell vacuums door to door in the summer to pay my way through college.”
Mac disappeared into the kitchen and she heard a noise float out of there that sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh. The chief sighed, like he’d already had enough of her shit. But he’d only just met her. Usually it took more time.
She went on the offensive. “You a werewolf, too?”
Eyebrow raise. Look around. Shit, she should start taking bets on how often they were gonna do that. Finally an answer. “Yes.”
“I want to see you shift.”
His voice was tight. “No you don’t.”
“Yeah, I do.”
He ignored her. She hated that, but before she could get something out of her mouth, he spoke. “Let’s get off Denton Smith for a second. There’s something else you can tell us about. Last fall, a video was released onto the Internet that shows an older male, named Boeson, being prompted to talk about werewolves, which he does a little, but then he starts talking about something else, something super fast that didn’t seem to make a lot of sense. Smaller guy. Thinning hair. You know anything about that?”
Crap. Boe. She hadn’t even thought of him in a few days, but she knew these wolves wanted him, would put him in jail. She found herself suddenly thrown off her game, totally flustered at the sudden change of subject she hadn’t expected. She would have rather he punched her in the face.
She dropped her plate on the couch and stood, knowing she was about to get arrested, but not caring. Time for the wolves to show their true colors, their cop colors. “Never heard of it.” She edged past him and stormed down the hall, waiting for someone to follow her.
Mac did, but when he caught her in the doorway to his room he didn’t yell at her, didn’t twist her arms around her back and handcuff her. Instead, he pulled her to him and held her softly. “Hey, are you ok?”
She didn’t respond.
“It’s cool, you don’t have to answer any more questions. Chief’s leaving.”
Rogue pulled back and looked at him, really stared at him hard. “You’re lying.”
He shook his head then pulled her close again. “I’m not, Rogue. He believes you about Rex. And if you don’t want to tell us about Boeson, he’s not going to try to force you. We’ve waited this long to find out what happened to that guy, we can wait a little longer. He wants to know. We all want to know, but no one is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Rogue felt herself tremble, and she hated it. “Then why am I still here?”
He didn’t have an answer for that, but she could feel his body react, like she’d kicked him in the gut instead of asking a simple question.
Pressed up against him, his masculine scent was strong in her nose and she took a deep breath of it, steeling herself for what she had to say. “This will never work for us, Mac. This thing you want to have between us? It will never happen. You’re the good guy, the hero. I’m…” She couldn’t say it.
“Chicago’s pussycat burglar?”
She froze, and her heart stopped. Her eyes opened wide and she stared at his chest. “You know?”
“Yeah. I suspected.”
“Does your chief know?”
“Yeah. He doesn’t care. Someone who steals from criminals is not high on our list of bad guys. In fact, if the data we have is right about you, you’re more good guy than bad guy.”
Ah, but she’d broken her own rule, stolen from a cop, and did it all for the money. Money she didn’t even have anymore. When he found out… “Do you care?” she asked in a small voice.
“Me? Not at all. I think it’s hot.”
She laughed a little against his chest. “You think everything’s hot.”
He hugged her tighter. “With you, yeah, I do. And it’s not like it has to be that big of a deal. You gotta stop, sure, you can’t be with me and be doing shit like that, but-”
Rogue pulled out of his arms and peered up at him, her voice hard. “You telling me what to do already? I gotta stop? What makes you think I even want to be with you?”
“Roe-”
She cut him off and pushed him out of the doorway, slamming the door in his face and locking it. “I hate Roe!” she yelled. “My name is Rogue.”
He didn’t say a word on the other side of the door, but she could imagine him standing there, wanting to say something kind, so accepting of her stupid-baby temper tantrums. Fuck. She turned around and looked for something to kick. A stack of notebooks against one wall, near the closet. Perfect. She hauled off and kicked them hard, sending a few of them flying into the bathroom. She wanted to get back at him. Hurt him the way he kept hurting her, even if it wasn’t him meaning to hurt her, but more the fucked-up circumstances that had been created around them.
One notebook landed near her, open, and as she looked down at it, she realized what it was. Perfect. She snatched it up, then turned back to the door. “I’m reading your diary!”
He didn’t say a word, but the sound of his footsteps told her he was heading back down the hallway. She waited to see if he was going to run back and kick the door in but he didn’t, so she dropped to the floor and pulled the notebook onto her lap.
Perfect.
Chapter 37
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br /> Rogue stared at the words on the page, not reading yet, trying to get herself under control, dismayed at how much she really wanted to read what he’d written. She remembered him leaning over the book when she’d watched him from the nearby house, peeked in on him like a peeping tom. She’d wanted to know then what he’d written, and she wanted to know now if it had been about her.
She shouldn’t. But she would. He’d as much as given her permission to do so.
She turned to the very last page and noted the date. Yes, this was the right one. His handwriting was messy, more of a scrawl, but then so was hers. She could read it well enough.
I met her last night. I don’t know her name, didn’t get a look at her face, but it doesn’t even matter what she looks like. She pulled a knife on me, but I’m sure that can be explained. She’s perfect. She’s strong. She’s brash. She’s quick-witted. She’s tall and got a body like a runway model. But she ran from me. Fuck. I have to find her. Chief made me come home. Rest. I’ll be back out in three hours. I don’t know anything about her yet, and something tells me she’s not a Sunday school teacher, but we’ll figure all that out. If I can just find her, I’ll do anything to win her, whatever it takes, and then I’ll spend my life being exactly what and who she needs. She’s worth it.
Oh, and it’s time to straighten up. Bruin’s trying to help me learn to be a better friend, and I’m going to try my damndest to listen if I’m to be mated. I’m kind of an asshole to people sometimes, and that was ok when I was young, but not anymore. I’m sure my mate will want to be friends with her sisters and their mates, and I can’t have them all hating me like they do now. No more bullshit. My mate deserves a good male.
Rogue stared at the last few words for a few seconds, then read the entire passage all over again. Then again. Her chest was tight and her throat closed up strangely. She had a hard time sucking air in.
Shit.
She sat there for a few more minutes, then paged back through the notebook. It had just been started fresh, only two earlier entries, so she crawled over to the wall and grabbed another notebook. She leaned up against the wall and opened it up, starting at the very first page, staring at the entry date and did the math in her head. If he was 35 now, he would have been 15 when he wrote it.