by Jess Bryant
Rationally, she knew why he was doing it. All of the cocksure arrogance was to hide the weakness he felt when it came to her and their complicated relationship. He needed to assert his power because this was something he couldn’t control. And she thought that maybe, just maybe, some part of him hated the idea of losing her, because earlier, on the shoreline of the river where they’d carved their names as silly kids, he’d looked at her and told her that fate had gotten it all wrong and she should have been his.
He’d known then. He’d all but admitted it. He’d known then that she didn’t belong to him, didn’t belong with him but he’d touched her and she was certain, still, maybe more so, that he’d been going to kiss her before Rafe tackled him to the ground.
He’d known that his brother was coming for her, somehow, he had figured it out, and he hadn’t warned her. He hadn’t told her. Instead, he’d declared that she should have been his. He’d said that he was going to fix it, fix this, and that memory slithered slow and uneasy through her until a knot formed in her stomach.
Fix it? Fix fate? Fix the bond she felt to Rafe? How was Michael planning to do that? By keeping them apart? By keeping Rafe locked up so he couldn’t get to her? If she fought, would he knock her out too? How far was he willing to go to fix what he saw as a problem?
Zoey licked her lips, darting a glance down at her mate, and made the decision. It was the only one she could make. If they kept fighting, she would say something she couldn’t take back. Michael would do something they’d never be able to come back from. And she couldn’t, wouldn’t, walk away from Rafe, not now, not ever. So she had to find another way.
She took a step back. It almost killed her. Every instinct in her body hissed at her to stop, to turn around, to stay close to Rafe and protect him, but she held her hands up and put some space between them. She stepped backwards until her unconscious mate lay between them, her at his head and Michael at his feet.
“Okay.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Okay?”
“You’re right. You’re Pack Alpha. If you think Rafe needs to be locked up tonight, then there’s nothing I can do to stop you.”
Michael stared at her for a long moment. She could feel him picking through her brain, trying to figure out what her motives were. He was smart and a good leader and he knew her better than anyone.
She was more surprised than she probably had a right to be when his shoulders sagged with relief and he nodded. He’d accepted her white flag too easily. He expected her to still side with him, like she always had on everything. But she wasn’t that same girl anymore. She loved Michael but Rafe was her mate. He came first now.
“Good.” He sighed, rubbed at his jaw, and then sighed again, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For trusting me.” He tried for a smile but it didn’t take, “I promise I’m going to do everything I can to fix this Zoey.”
The fear and panic that she’d been expecting from the moment she realized what was happening finally made an appearance. Something dark twisted her guts and she clenched her fists again and bit her tongue to keep from lashing out at Michael. He wasn’t trying to hurt her, she told herself. He was trying to help. The problem of course was that for the first time, he didn’t know what she needed at all. He didn’t know what she was thinking. Because as far as she was concerned, there was nothing to fix.
Her body. Her heart. Her soul. She belonged to Rafe and that knowledge was undeniable.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat, “I do trust you Michael. I trust you to do the right thing.”
His gaze flickered over her, that mix of remorse and sadness, but he didn’t respond. If he understood what she’d really been saying, he didn’t let on. He simply stared at her for a long moment and then nodded, as if he was having an internal debate and he’d just decided something important. When he spoke again, she realized she’d been right.
“You should go on home.”
Her jaw fell open, “What?”
“Go home. Take a shower. Get changed. I’ll deal with this mess and then I’ll come over and we can talk about all of this.”
“No.”
“I need to get him moved before he rouses, Zo.”
“Fine. I’ll help you. But I’m not leaving him.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
“You think I’d hurt my own brother?”
“Well, you did just have him shot.”
“Tranqued. There’s a difference.” He glowered.
“Really? You think he’s going to see it that way when he wakes up?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow, “You shot your brother. Your brother that barely survived a gunshot wound once before. Your brother that witnessed your parents being shot and killed with his own eyes. Do you really think he’s going to differentiate between being shot with a bullet and being shot with a dart when he comes to or do you think he’s just going to be even more pissed off than he already was?”
As she spoke, she watched her words sink in and hated herself for them. She hated herself for bringing up the worst day of Michael’s life. For making him remember his loss, as if it ever really faded from his mind. She hated that she had to point out that shooting Rafe had been a mistake because the Michael she knew, kind, thoughtful, practical Michael, should have known the torture his brother had lived with better than anyone.
But he hadn’t been thinking when he gave that order for the Sheriff to shoot Rafe.
He hadn’t looked at him and seen his brother. He’d only looked at him and seen a threat. To her. To them. To what they had.
And she didn’t blame him. There were plenty of women she’d hated on sight alone because she’d thought they might be the one meant for Michael. In another time and place, hell, even earlier tonight, Michael’s simple, knee-jerk reaction to protect her, to keep her for himself, whatever his reasons, would have come off as impossibly sweet in her romantic mind.
Now she only wished that Michael hadn’t been present at all when Rafe came for her. If she’d been alone, none of this would have happened. If Michael hadn’t followed her outside, he wouldn’t have thought he had to defend her, jumped between them or issued orders to have his brother shot and then imprisoned.
Her stomach knotted again. How were they going to come back from this? Rafe and Michael? Their relationship had already been strained. It had been fraught with tension even with miles of space between them. The pack was rightfully Rafe’s by birth but he’d given it to Michael without a fight. He’d left town.
Why had he come back now? And what did it mean that his first night here he and Michael were rolling on the ground, fighting with tooth and claw, over her? Worse, she couldn’t help but wonder if Rafe would give her up to his brother as easily as he’d given up his pack.
No. She shook the thought away. No, he wouldn’t have fought Michael if he hadn’t wanted her for himself. She was his mate. He’d said so himself. He’d also said that he was hers.
It was a distinction that warmed her heart, maybe because she was human and she wasn’t promised some pre-destined soulmate or maybe because she’d just always wanted someone to call her own. Whatever it was, whatever had made fate decide they would be a good pair, she wanted a chance at it, with Rafe.
“He’ll understand why I did it after he calms down.” Michael didn’t sound convinced.
“How long do you think that’s going to take? For the heat to pass I mean?” She shrugged as if it wasn’t the most pressing thing on her mind.
“Until after the full moon.” Michael swiped a hand through his hair, “It won’t ever go away, not completely, but if I can keep you two apart until after tomorrow night, it’ll buy us some time to come up with a plan.”
“A plan?”
“To break the bond.”
She bit her tongue. There were too many questions rolling around inside of her and if she got started now, she might never finish. Besides, if Michael answered wrong, she was likely to punch him. Something she
didn’t want to do. So she didn’t ask him why he was so set on breaking the bond, on keeping them apart, she only nodded and moved back to Rafe.
She brushed his unruly hair off his forehead again. He twitched. He leaned his face into her touch and she covered a smile. He would be awake soon. Strong werewolf man, they’d tranqued him and still couldn’t keep him down.
She remembered his last words to her. He’d said that he would find her. She knew that he would. If she took Michael’s advice and went home and showered and changed, Rafe would wake up in that cell alone and he’d break every bone in his body trying to get to her. So she wasn’t going to let him wake up alone. She wasn’t going to make him find her. Because she wasn’t leaving his side.
“Come on, I’ll help you get him up.”
Michael frowned, “I don’t think you should touch him any more than completely necessary.”
She almost rolled her eyes. Touching was part of the bond, the bond he intended to break. She could tell him that it was completely necessary for her to be touching Rafe right now but she had a feeling that would get her a personal escort home, in the other direction of the police station, so she simply nodded and raised her hands.
“Okay.”
Michael nodded, “Wiley? Grab his shoulders.”
“Where are we taking him?” The older man was still scowling at all of them like they were errant children.
“To the station.”
“I meant, the car…”
“I’ll pull my SUV around.” She offered and then shrugged when Michael stared at her, “I’m not tossing him in the back of your truck like a bag of garbage. There’s plenty of room in my Jeep. I’ll pull it around so you don’t have to carry him so far.”
“Fine.” Michael nodded after several long moments, “But after that, you’re going home.”
She snorted, “Like hell I am.”
“Zo, I’m not arguing with you about this again.”
“Good, because you’ll lose. Again.” She headed towards the back porch and groaned when she realized half the pack was still crowding around watching them, “Everybody enjoying the show?”
The whispers hushed and they moved out of her way. She grabbed her purse from where she’d left it and headed through the lodge to the front to retrieve her Jeep. This was going to be big news among the pack, among the whole town. And she was certain it was already spreading like wildfire.
Rafe was back. He’d attacked Michael. And he’d claimed the woman they all thought belonged to their Pack Alpha as his own.
She’d been right. Something powerful was in the air tonight. And it changed everything.
Chapter 8
His head hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Rafe struggled to sit upright. His muscles screamed in protest and everything ached. He squinted in the fluorescent-lit room and growled as his surroundings began to make sense.
Concrete walls. Concrete floors. A metal cot with a bare mattress and an open toilet in the corner.
“Son of a…” Rafe dropped his head into his hands and scrubbed at his face.
His brother had thrown him into a jail cell. The little shit. He’d had the sheriff tranq him and while he was out they’d thrown him in a cell. Bastards. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing except try to claim his mate. Michael was the one that had gotten in the way. Michael was the one that had interfered. He should be the one in this cell but of course he wasn’t. Because Michael was Pack Alpha.
Rafe’s head hurt too bad to even think about how that was his own doing. How he was the one that should have been Pack Alpha. Should have been making the decisions. Should have spent the past few years creating a life and a family with his mate instead of roaming the country alone with no place to call home.
His mate. Zoey. The fog that had been clouding his skull cleared at the thought of her. Zoey. His Zoey.
He could smell her. It was faint but there. The sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon. His woman’s scent. He’d know it anywhere. He sniffed his clothes and smiled softly. He was covered in her scent but that wasn’t where it was coming from. That was mixed with his already, just the way he wanted it.
The scent his nose had picked up on was something else. Something that made his blood hot and his fists curl. Zoey’s scent mixed with someone else’s. Mixed with Michael’s.
He swallowed a growl and lunged at the bars. He needed out of here. Now. A cell couldn’t hold him, not when he was determined to get to his mate.
Only as soon as his hands closed on the bars he hissed in pain and jerked back as if he’d been burned. No, not as if. He stared down at the welts on his palms and growled again. Silver. The bars of the cell were reinforced with silver. The one metal that could harm a wolf. He cursed his brother all over again. Of course Michael would think of installing silver into the bars of the cells at the local jail. He’d always been smart and a pain in the ass.
Rafe swiped his hands on his shirt and retreated to the bunk. He couldn’t escape. Couldn’t get out. Not on his own.
He tried to focus on his other senses. He could smell Zoey. She was somewhere nearby. So was Michael and someone else. The Sheriff maybe? He couldn’t be sure. His ears pricked and he could pick up bits and pieces of the conversation they were having upstairs.
A smile nudged at his mouth as he listened in. Zoey. His sweet, fiery mate was yelling. Not just yelling but yelling at Michael. She was yelling at the Alpha of the pack. For him. But his smile faded as he listened to his brother yelling right back at her.
A growl hung in his throat. Michael had no right. None. He didn’t get to yell at Zoey. He didn’t get to keep them apart. But stronger than the anger was the worry he felt building inside of him. His mate was challenging the Pack Alpha and Rafe wasn’t there to protect her because he’d handled everything all wrong and gotten himself locked up.
He needed out of this cell. Now. Silver or no silver. His mate needed him.
He knew that Michael had feelings for Zoey. His brother wouldn’t harm her. Not on purpose. But at some point, he would have to stand up to her. Because he was Pack Alpha. He would have to show his strength and shut her down. And Rafe couldn’t, and wouldn’t, let his brother punish her for defending him.
Instead of trying to pry the bars open again, he went to the small window. The bars there were probably laced with silver too so he didn’t bother. He focused on the concrete blocks instead. With a whole lot of energy, he might be able to punch his way through but that tranquilizer had weakened him. It would take too long and he didn’t know how much time he had left before someone came to check on him or…
The sound of footsteps behind him had him spinning back towards the front of the cell. He was prepared for the worst. For another tranquilizer from that bastard Sherriff or for his brother. He hadn’t been prepared to see her on the other side though and relief squeezed his heart.
“Zoey.” He rushed towards him and only caught himself a moment before he touched the bars.
“Shh, they’ll hear us.” She hushed as she moved towards him quickly now. “I snuck away but we don’t have long until they realize I’m not in the bathroom.”
All of his aches and pains disappeared with her nearness. The only thought in his head was how to get closer to her. He needed to touch her, feel her, taste her.
She looked beautiful. She would always look beautiful to him. Because she was his.
But he couldn’t help the snarl that tore from his throat when he caught a whiff of his brother’s scent coming from her. He scowled She was still wearing that tiny, slip of a red dress that made his wolf salivate but she had a thin hunter-green jacket with the gold emblem of the Sherriff’s station on the sleeve pulled over it, as if she’d gotten cold. The jacket. It was Michael’s. And he wanted to gut his brother for giving it to her to wear when he must have known how it would rile Rafe.
“What’s wrong?” She whispered as she curled her fingers over the bars of the cage he was trapped in. “You don’t look happy to see me.”
/>
“That jacket.” He spit through gritted teeth. “Take it off. Now.”
Her brows furrowed and she looked at the jacket, “What? Wh…”
“Now. Zoey. Take it off or I swear I’m going to rip it off you.” He watched her eyes flare with recognition and heat, “It smells like my brother and you should only, ever, smell like me. Take. It. Off.”
She bit her lip and her cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of pink. She shrugged her shoulders and the jacket slid to the floor. He groaned when she followed the order and his blood boiled hot for another reason. She’d followed his command, taken off the offending article of clothing, and on top of that now he could see so much more of her pale, porcelain skin.
His. She was his. And the heat was going to his head being this close to her.
“Come here.” He ordered.
Still biting her lip, she edged against the bars, “Rafe…”
“Say it again.” He whispered, pressing as close to her as he could without burning his skin.
“Rafe…” She stifled a moan when he traced her fingers with his own, a shudder running through them both, “Rafe, this is crazy. I… oh God, it’s like lightning in my veins.”
“I know.” He lifted her hand, pulling it closer so he could scent her right at the pulse in her wrist.
He knew what she meant. This entire situation was crazy. The two of them. The heat. The problem that Michael posed as Pack Alpha, trying to keep them apart. But craziest of all was how intense the heat was, the need to have her, to possess her. He craved her more than the air in his lungs.
“You’re mine.” He dragged his teeth across her pale wrist, “You’re mine, Zoey.”
“Yours.” She moaned almost incoherently. “I’m yours.”
“Not yet you’re not. But you will be.” He licked her and the taste made his wolf howl, “Need you.”
“Yes.”
Ignoring the bite of pain, he reached through the bars and wound a hand in her hair. He tilted her face up and pressed his lips to hers. The silver burned his cheek where he couldn’t avoid the bars of his cell but it didn’t matter. Nothing did. Not when he finally, finally had the taste of his mate on his lips.