Fire Of Love: A Wolf Shifter Mpreg Romance (Savage Love Book 2)

by Preston Walker

  But it wasn’t just the age of the Ferrari which caught Isaac’s attention. He wouldn’t even have known the age of the car at all if he wasn’t fully aware of who this one belonged to. The front bumper buckled up in the middle from a small collision in the past, and a long, keyed scrape ran down the side from the front right wheel to the back, before arching up into a curve around the trunk and ultimately ending there.

  Isaac knew those flaws. He knew them well.

  He turned back to Arlo, who was standing awkwardly in one place, waiting for someone else to make the first move.

  No, Isaac realized. The realization hit him like a slap to the face, causing his eyes to have to adjust for the new, shakier reality of the world around him. Arlo wasn’t being awkward. He looked awkward, because that was how he looked all the time, but his manner was more or less calm and patient. He was waiting for Isaac to comment on his vehicle.

  “That’s Lance’s Ferrari,” Isaac said.

  Moody stood off to the side, his gaze open and perplexed. “Who’s Lance?”

  Isaac looked over at him. God, he was gorgeous, the pale light filtering out from the hotel somehow accentuating his beauty. Moody’s dark hair was frosted silver, his chain necklace standing out against the soft shade of his skin. A moment passed, the gap too long to be natural. He scrambled for his train of thought, hoping against hope that the slight bulge at the front of his pants would go unnoticed. “Lance is my old pack leader, back in Daphne. That’s his Ferrari. He lent it to you, Arlo?”

  Arlo smiled. His teeth were neon-white, unnaturally bright. He must have bleached them with one of those harmful kits advertised on TV. The whitening process was actually bad for teeth, though that didn’t stop the manufacturers from trying to sell their product with depictions of grimacing people pretending their quality of life was equivalent to how comfortable they were flashing a mouthful of teeth. What looked unattractive on those actors looked even worse on Arlo, who had no other outstanding features to combat the supernatural glow coming from between his lips.

  “Well, he didn’t really lend it to me,” Arlo said. “It’s more like he, uh, gave it to me.”

  Isaac raised his eyebrows. Everyone liked to make fun of Arlo, while insisting no one outside the pack do so, but he wasn’t exactly the pack favorite. He wasn’t anyone special to Lance, who tended to form weekly preferences for different wolves. “Why would he do that?”

  “I mean, he didn’t give it to me. He was giving it away. Like, he bought a new one. Since this one is, is, uh, a couple years old now. So, he bought a new one. And he did, like, a lottery, with all of us in the pack. And I got the lucky ticket. So, I got the car?”

  It was a lot of hemming and hawing for a simple answer. Moody narrowed his eyes, his expression full of mistrust. “That’s a huge gift, even if it is an older car.”

  “Like I said.” Arlo shifted his feet, his eyes flicking to the side. “I was lucky. It’s just a dumb car, okay? Let’s go. We should have already left by now.”

  Gripping his suitcase, Arlo trundled off in the direction of his car. The intervals between his massive steps were pretty much legendary, unheard of in any other corner of the globe.

  Isaac turned to look at Moody. “So, he’s acting weird,” he said, admitting Moody was right. “Doesn’t mean anything. He can’t help it.”

  “I don’t trust him,” Moody growled. His dark cinnamon eyes were darker still, reflecting the light rather than being illuminated. A solemn green glow lingered in his irises, a side-effect of night vision. “And I don’t have to trust him. I’m here for you and that’s it.”

  Moody strode away from him, off down the side of the hotel building.

  After a moment, during which he looked back at Arlo struggling to open the car door, Isaac followed.

  8

  By the time the three of them arrived in Daphne, true night had fallen. The interstate they had taken, heading northwest, skirted above most of the intervening cities. Stars glittered above in the black sky, more stars than Moody remembered ever having seen at once. The moon seemed pregnant with its own light, hanging so low over the highway that all a person had to do was reach up and grab it for themselves. Thick stands of cloying, swampy trees pushed up against the road, though somewhere in the last third of the journey the overgrown vegetation broke apart into stretches of field and meadow.

  Daphne was easy to see even from a distance, aglow with neon. The closer they got, the more Moody felt as if he had seen all of this before. It wasn’t until they were actually in city limits that he realized what he was feeling.

  Daphne was a scaled-down version of Pensacola, with fewer beaches, attractions, and a milder nightlife. Despite all those differences, it was still quite clear that Daphne was a beach town and tourist destination. The only difference was that Daphne touched against a bay rather than an ocean, and was therefore lacking in the right conditions to truly prosper.

  And he liked it.

  He surprised himself by relaxing, sinking into the feel of the city. The streets he rode through with Isaac, following behind the vibrant red of Arlo’s Ferrari, were calm and quiet and somehow peaceful. There was definitely traffic, and roaming bands of tourists young and old prowled the sidewalk wherever there was light to be found. Yet, somehow, that just didn’t really matter. No one was trying too hard to pretend they were having a good time when they weren’t. They just genuinely were.

  The city was. It existed as it was, not trying to impress anyone by being something it wasn’t. It was a bayside city, comfortable, unassuming, and friendly.

  Moody glanced over at Isaac, wondering what the alpha was feeling right now. He wasn’t surprised to discover that Isaac was smiling, or that there were tears on his cheeks.

  How does it feel to come home, after being away for so long?

  More importantly, how did it feel to come home, knowing it was no longer yours?

  Not much longer after he had the thought, Arlo put his blinker on and moved over into the left turning lane at the upcoming streetlight. The light was green, with an arrow. Arlo turned, and Moody followed.

  Isaac idled a bit longer at the light. Moody stopped where he was, since there were no cars coming either way for the moment, and looked back over his shoulder. “Isaac,” he called. “What are you doing?”

  The alpha shook his head, then got moving again. The roar of his powerful engine was somewhat muted though, as if he wasn’t giving it as much push as before.

  Something was wrong.

  Cars were coming now, headlights sweeping up the road. Moody swiveled back around in his seat and faced forward, following along behind Isaac.

  As soon as they were on the next street, Moody saw the reason for Isaac’s strange behavior. Long, parallel lines of business buildings stood on either side of the road. Banks, real estate buildings, and other assorted office structures.

  The fifth building down on the right side of the street was not a building at all. It was only a husk, black and molding and ruined. Most of the framework and supports were still intact, though there was no longer a roof. All the windows had been blown out, presumably from the heat of the fire that claimed the building. The main front entrance had been a door once upon a time, but was now a gaping hole which resembled more the mouth of a cave. Strands of yellow tape were strung across the entire front of the building, where it faced the street, though most of these were torn and dangling, flapping in the faint breeze.

  Arlo stopped his car in front of the building, then opened his door and got out.

  Isaac parked just behind him, dismounting his motorcycle and staggering while he did so. Most of the offices here along the street had been abandoned for the night, so the only source of light came from the streetlamps. With one at his back, Isaac’s face was completely in shadow. What expression he might have worn, looking at this burned husk of an office building, there was no telling.

  Moody didn’t need to see, however. He was not a human, bound to his strongest sens
e. All of his senses were equal in strength, all of them vital to his existence. Even if he couldn’t see the look on Isaac’s face, he could taste his sadness, smell his regret mixing with the lingering odor of smoke. He could hear Isaac’s rapid breathing. And he could feel Isaac tremble as he came to stand beside the alpha.

  He wanted to wrap his arm around Isaac, and the only thing preventing him from doing so was his uncertainty that it would be right to interfere.

  This must have been the firm where Isaac had worked, completely destroyed now. The blaze had happened a long time ago, long enough for the elements and volunteers to have done their work, but the smell of smoke lingered anyway, as it will. It was a charred, unnatural, chemical reek, like the stench that sticks around on items that were bought from the home of a smoker.

  Arlo folded his hands in front of himself, twitching and shifting from what could only be nervousness. “The police investigations are still open, you know. It all kind of died down until recently, when this all started happening again.”

  “I know,” Isaac growled. His voice was very, very husky. “I still get calls about it. Not recently, though.”

  Isaac walked up to the front of the building, placing his hand against the burned surface. Charred curls of material flaked away from underneath his touch. “This police tape is new, isn’t it?”

  “Well, the police are trying to figure out who’s doing this, so they’re taping up all the old places. Doing more patrols. I guess someone came along and slashed all the tape here.”

  Moody walked up to the building himself, reaching out to grab the trailing end of a piece of police tape. The end was ragged, looking more bitten than cut. Maybe whatever punk did this was in a hurry or used a dull knife. “Why did you bring us here?” he asked. Anger churned in his stomach, though it was a low-grade sort of aggravation rather than anything fiercely burning. He was very tired for some reason, even though the hour wasn’t all that late. It must have just been because of all the stress he’d gone through lately.

  Or, maybe, he was picking up on Isaac’s emotions and exhaustion.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  His mistrust for this wiry omega only strengthened because of this short interaction. Arlo still spoke in the same squeaking, uncertain voice, but the cadence of his words had changed. He was no longer stuttering or interjecting filler words into his sentences, as if he had rehearsed what he was going to say prior to this.

  Maybe he had. Moody often practiced his order while waiting in line for fast food, or imagined future conversations that would never happen. He couldn’t really hold it against Arlo for doing the same.

  Still.

  “There’s nothing here,” Moody said, snapping out the words. “It’s a burned building full of nothing but bad memories. Why bring us here instead of to where your pack is? You said you told them you were coming.”

  “I did,” Arlo confirmed. “The thing is, we don’t really have a meeting place or anything. And it’s late. We aren’t a motorcycle club, either. Most of our members are sleeping right now, so I just called a few.” He craned his head around, peering over Isaac’s shoulder. “Here they come now. What took you so long?”

  Moody spun around, then heard a sound coming from behind him and knew he had been tricked. Strong hands clamped around his shoulders, then moved down to his wrists and stayed there. “Hey!” he snarled, trying to wrench around. Whoever held him just moved with him, jerking them together in a circle before coming to a stop at more or less their original position.

  His heart hammered in his chest. He panted, going still with fear, then started struggling again. Whoever was holding onto him didn’t move again, didn’t shift, didn’t give any sign at all that they were exerting effort. They were clearly an alpha wolf, in strength and endurance and scent.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  No one answered him. All Moody could do was watch helplessly as several more wolves emerged from various places around the street.

  Isaac dropped down to the ground, shifting as he went so he hit the pavement on four massive paws. Like a silver comet hurtling through space, Isaac sprang right for the nearest man. His jaws were open, a spray of saliva trailing from between his lips. With his ears folded back flat against his skull, his eyes squinted with rage, Isaac no longer looked as if he had any humanity left inside him. This was his chance to fight back against the people who had done him wrong, and he was taking it with no hesitation.

  Yes! Moody cried in his thoughts. What happened was too quick for the words to reach his lips.

  The other two men, who were not being attacked, brought out slim devices which Moody couldn’t clearly make out. A snapping, crackling sound reverberated through the air.

  As one, the two men dove in just as Isaac made contact with their comrade. Blue arcs of electricity jumped from their devices to Isaac’s body, sending him into jerking spasms. His entire body tensed, loosened, flashed back into human form, tensed again, and then finally went limp once more. Collapsing to the ground, Isaac didn’t move.

  No!

  They Tasered him. They had come prepared for this, and they Tasered Isaac, the sneaky bastards.

  The man who had nearly had his throat torn out by Isaac went down on one knee, and pressed his own Taser against him. Electricity snapped sharply through the air. Isaac seized again, cried out wordlessly, and then lay on the ground where he had fallen, shivering and panting.

  His valiant attempt to fight for his right, his innocence, had been robbed from him by these cheaters. Everything he had been waiting for, stolen from him.

  Moody’s vision flashed with sickening red, his body filling with a hate so fierce he had no words for it. Now he couldn’t even fight back, because he would just be Tasered, too. It wasn’t fair!

  Arlo clasped his hands together again, still fidgeting around where he stood. “I’m sorry, Isaac,” he said. “We have to be careful. You’re a threat to us. But if you just cooperate, things will turn out better for you and your companion.”

  I knew we shouldn’t trust him. I knew it. I fucking knew it!

  The low throbs of fury inside Moody’s stomach suddenly burst into an explosive flame, like a bomb had gone off inside him. Even though he knew he shouldn’t, that this would only get him hurt, he shifted. Fur sprouted rapidly across his arms and to every other part of his body from there. His bones adjusted themselves in his body, his skeletal structure rearranging.

  The grip of the alpha holding onto him slipped. Moody jerked around, opening his mouth wide. He was fully wolf now, in possession of all of his fangs.

  He hardly saw the fist flying at him from the side, though the wolf inside him jerked away faster than he could register. All the same, it was no use. The fist landed, a dark comet.

  At first, there was no pain. Only a sensation like being tossed through the air, yet without having moved at all. Then, the pain caught up with him and he tried to cry out, though he couldn’t tell if the yell ever left his lungs. Human lungs, as he had involuntarily shifted back. Streaks of color ran across his vision like dripped paint, too bright. He could only close his eyes.

  Through the ringing in his head, he heard something. Isaac’s voice, twisted into a grunt by pain. The sheer effort it must have taken for him to talk, after being shocked three times in rapid succession, was beyond impressive. Even knocked down, out for the count, he continued to fight.

  “…you hit him? Arlo, where’s Lance? Ugh, fuck…What’s going on?”

  “Lance is, uh, dead.” Arlo replied, stammering now, sounding much more like himself. Moody wondered distantly if that was because something in his plan had gone wrong.

  Opening his eyes, Moody tried to see. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such pain, so fierce it didn’t seem quite real, like it had become something more. Isaac was on the ground, held down now by all of his former pack members because he was beginning to struggle. Moody was alone. Clearly, they considered him down for the count
.

  He couldn’t see well enough through the pain, through the darkness and the orange street lights. He couldn’t see the expression that crossed Isaac’s face.

  But, he did feel Isaac’s soul crying out, the wolf inside him lamenting the news. A pack leader was a special person, and now Isaac had been denied the chance to meet his again. He had come home, but he could never really come home.

  “How did he die?” Isaac asked. His voice was almost back to normal at the start of the question, escalating into a howl of agony as he was Tased again. The white pulses of electricity left afterimages behind Moody’s eyelids when he blinked.

  Arlo shook his head. “We’ll talk about that later. Right now, I need to get the two of you to, um, a better place. You’ll stay there until morning. I mean, I know, that’s a long time, but I need everyone to be available for what’s going to happen.”

  Arlo went over to his Ferrari, the Ferrari that formerly belonged to the now deceased pack leader, and pulled open the door. There was the distinctive zinging sound of a zipper being undone, which told Moody he was digging in his suitcase. He tried to turn his head to see better; crippling pain surged outward from the place where he’d been hit, curling around his jaw, seeping down the back of his skull. Moving, then, was not really an option.

  After a few moments, Arlo came back in sight. His gaze was solemn. In each hand, he held a roll of duct tape. He tossed one in the general direction of the wolves restraining Isaac, then took the other over to Moody.

  With each step that Arlo advanced, Moody felt his hate deepen. He realized now that he had never actually hated anyone before. He strongly disliked many members of his pack. He resented his father with a passion. He had been bitter and angry and hurt over Isaac leaving him.

  None of those were hate.

  This was. A deep, throbbing sense of loathing, cold in his chest. Everything about Arlo had gone from being awkward and potentially endearing to downright abhorrent, from his drifting, ponderous walk, to the way the corners of his mouth quivered when he smiled.