A thought nagged at me. Had he been trying to make amends by saving the son when he’d condemned the father? Was he telling the truth?
No, I would not entertain that thought. Bringing up the images of the bodies wiped out any sympathy I had for this man.
“I know about trust. I know about allegiance and I know about friendship, Father.”
“Alpha!” Footsteps running into the house had me on my feet, but it took me a minute to recognize the man who filled the doorway. He, too, stopped dead, his eyes narrowing on me, taking my measure.
It was Ace. My cousin. He’d changed, too. He’d gotten bigger, wider. And there was one more thing. I understood it when he walked to stand to my father’s right. He was being groomed to take over as Alpha. He would take my place.
The pang of jealousy I felt surprised me. I didn’t want this, didn’t want to be Alpha, didn’t want anything to do with the pack. But to see him standing beside my father like that, like he was his son, made me angry.
“Zane, good to see you,” Ace said, his voice smooth, his words, as usual, calculated.
“Ace.” I acknowledged with a nod. I wasn’t going to lie. It wasn’t good to see him.
“Zane was preparing to leave,” Cain said. “I did not order the hit. Savage Blood is not involved and won’t harm the girl. But to keep her truly safe, you know what you have to do.”
I stared at him. Was he serious?
“Go back home and claim the girl,” he finished.
“Because that kept Heather safe?” I couldn’t help asking.
My father’s face didn’t change, didn’t harden at the accusation. He remained studying me.
“Alpha,” Ace began, “the girl is a carrier. She could be valuable…”
Cain held up his hand. “I said Savage Blood will not harm the girl. Zane will claim her as his. She will be allowed to live as his mate.”
Women were carriers, they weren’t shifters, but there were fewer of them than men, and not all matings produced shifters. Women within the packs were protected. Or they should have been. Aria would be protected, if she was mine, or so my father claimed. But if I chose to claim her, I’d be choosing her destiny for her. She’d never have an even remotely normal life.
“No one within my power will touch a hair on her head. Is that understood?” Cain asked, addressing Ace.
Ace’s hands fisted and I wasn’t sure if my father felt the tension rolling from him. He must have, but maybe he felt like he could control him.
Ace didn’t lower his head when he acquiesced. “Yes, Alpha.”
Something about this exchange was not quite right.
“Son,” Cain said, turning to me, “claim her, and you have my word.”
Chapter Seven
Aria
An hour in Zane’s office with nothing to do was enough. And I was hungry. I went out into the bar to find Fly stocking the shelves.
“Is there any food here?”
He glanced up at me then at the clock. “Lunchtime.” He got up and wiped his hands on his pants. “Hope you like bologna.”
“Bologna? They still make that?”
He winked. “Sure do, princess.”
I followed him into the small kitchen. He took sandwich bread and bologna from the fridge.
“How long have you known Zane?”
He set two plates out and started to make our sandwiches. I found I didn’t dislike Fly. He’d come off pretty harsh last night, but I kind of got that he was protecting Zane.
“Five years.”
“You met here?”
Fly nodded and handed me a plate, leaning back against the counter to eat. “He needed a bouncer back then. I fit the bill.”
“Somehow, I can see that.”
“What about you? What did you come back for? You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”
“Can’t live in the present until I can understand what happened in the past. Why it had to happen.”
He nodded. “You ever heard the expression ‘there’s no power in understanding’?”
“Yeah, oddly enough, from your boss.”
“Glad to hear he’s learned a thing to two,” he said, starting on the second half of his sandwich.
“Where did Zane go?”
“I’m guessing to see his father.”
“His father?”
“That’s where I’d start.”
“I don’t know his father’s story.”
“Well, let me ask you this, how much do you know about Zane’s story?”
I shook my head. “Don’t start on the shifter bullshit.”
He cocked his head to the side, opened his mouth wide, and stuffed his sandwich inside, giving me what I’d call a wolfish grin under any other circumstances.
“I’m not buying it,” I said, walking past him and into the bar to the sound of his laughter behind me. I started to take the chairs down from the tables. Fly had cleaned the floors earlier. I figured making myself useful would help pass the time. Fly continued to work behind the bar, and my mind wandered to what I’d seen the other night in the parking lot, trying to connect the dots. By late afternoon, people started coming in, and I took a seat at the bar, watching them, trying to figure things out until Fly called me over.
“I have a delivery I need to unload. Can you cover the bar?”
“Sure, but I don’t know how to mix drinks…”
“Shots and beer. It’s pretty straightforward.”
“Okay.”
Although I’d waited tables before, I’d never worked behind a bar but figured shots and beers couldn’t be that hard.
First thing most people did when they came in was ask where Fly was. Once they made sure he’d put me behind the bar, they’d order, pay, and move on. I studied their faces, their mannerisms, feeling silly doing it. After an hour, Fly came back in, but I stayed behind the bar.
“That took a long time,” I commented. I assumed he’d received an inventory of alcohol.
“Special order,” he said, that wide grin back on his face. He poured himself a glass of water and drank.
“Where’d you get that scar anyway?” I noted the three lines that looked like they’d once been deep cuts.
“Beard not covering it up?” he asked, touching his face.
“Nope, sorry.”
He shrugged. “Z gave it to me. First day we met. Motherfucker.”
My shocked expression had him laughing out loud.
“I told you he needed a bouncer in the early days. It’s how I got my job.”
I opened my mouth to ask what he was talking about, but the guy from last night, Jake, suddenly stepped up to the bar, surprising me.
“Well, well, well, look who’s back.” He came right up to me.
“Long walk here, Jake?” Fly asked, leaning against the bar.
Jake’s expression changed, his gaze momentarily hesitant, almost cautious. If I wasn’t paying attention, I wouldn’t have noticed the slight difference.
“You got my keys, man?”
“Sure do. Hate to see you go so quickly.” Fly slid the car keys Zane had taken last night down the bar. Jake’s reflexes must have been right on because he slapped his hand over them so fast, I barely saw him move.
“I’ll have a beer first,” he said, turning to me. “Five miles leaves you thirsty.”
“I guess.” Fly poured a beer.
“I’m going to get some fresh air, Fly.” I walked around to Zane’s office and out the door there. The cigarette smoke in the bar was stifling, and seeing Jake in there bothered me.
Dusk had fallen, and, recalling Zane’s story, the howls in the distance made me shiver. My car sat just where I’d parked it. Shards of glass stood ready to tear skin in the driver’s side window, and the roof had been torn to shreds. Rather than going back inside, I figured I could at least get the glass cleaned up. I went in to grab the trash can from under Zane’s desk and headed to my car, wishing now I’d parked closer to the building. I told myself to
relax, that I was just on edge from Zane’s stupid story, the break-in, and that damned black rose.
More cries came from the mountains, but I forced myself to keep my attention on the task at hand, focusing on my car. I reached in to unlock the door, careful not to cut myself on the glass, pissed that someone had done this. I opened the door and squatted down alongside the car, picking up the big pieces before brushing the smaller ones into the bin.
More motorcycles pulled up, but no one paid much attention to me. A few shards cut into my hand but once I had most of it cleaned up, I stood to go back inside. That was when I saw the dogs on the other side of the road.
Dogs. That’s what they were. Stray dogs. Nothing else.
There were three of them in the not-far-enough distance, seeming to watch me. A car passed, lighting up their eyes with an eerie sort of glow. Without taking my eyes off them, I moved back toward the bar. They moved, too, coming to the edge of the road, waiting while another car drove past. I walked faster toward the door, but, as I reached the building, they broke into a run across the street. But before I could twist the handle to open the door, another sound, one coming from around the other side of the building, sent a chill down my spine. It was low and quiet, but I felt the threat it carried and stood locked in place as a very large wolf, his coat a dirty gray-black, came around the building. He stalked slowly, his strange blue eyes on me. But he wasn’t coming for me. The other three, the ones who had crossed the street, the ones I’d thought were large dogs but weren’t, not really, he was here for them. And they knew it because there was a momentary standoff. I considered between them, the three vs. the one, and if I had to place a bet on who would win if this came to a fight, it was the lone wolf.
He gave a low growl before taking two more steps, closing the distance between himself and the three. The rumbling from their chests made the earth beneath my feet quake, and when the lone wolf made one sudden lunge toward them, the three scattered, running fast across the street and into the woods there, accompanied only by the sound of a quick scream which I recognized was my own.
The lone wolf turned back to me, meeting my eye before loping slowly back the way he had come. As soon as I was capable of moving, I pulled the office door open and screamed again when I ran directly into Zane’s naked chest.
“What the fu…” Zane’s hands closed over my arms.
The trash can crashed to the ground, the glass I’d picked up littering the floor around our feet.
“Aria. What the hell are you doing?” He shook me hard forcing me to look up at him.
My breathing was ragged, but having him back, having him here helped. I took a step away and looked at him, at his bare chest. His olive skin was dark, his body sculpted with muscle, decorated with tattoos. That last part had come sometime in the last six years because there hadn’t been so much ink before.
He released me but remained where he was. He did remember the night we’d been together years before. It was in the way he watched me, in his black eyes. I returned my attention to his body, to his naked, hard chest. His shoulders and arms were thick with muscle, his abs chiseled, a trail of dark hair disappearing beneath jeans hanging low on his hips.
He stood still while I studied him, the power harnessed by flesh making my belly flutter. Did he know that he was making my insides melt? I thought he might because, for a moment, there was a change, a burning behind his eyes that allowed me to see what I’d been searching for: the Zane who’d finally given in to me that night. I wanted that Zane to stay. To want me again. Even if he was a little darker now.
Curious to see more of the ink decorating him, I took a step to move behind him, but he stopped me, coming closer, taking hold of my arms. He brought his forehead to mine, our eyes locking.
“What were you doing outside?”
“I was…I thought I’d clean up the glass. Jake came into the bar, and I needed fresh air.”
He nodded, but it was more a caressing of his face against my forehead. “He won’t touch you. No one will.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I told you to stay inside, didn’t I?”
I didn’t answer, unable to speak as he stepped us backward, my back suddenly against the wall, my arms pressed to it.
“You don’t listen very well though, do you?”
I shook my head no, not quite sure what was happening, not sure I wanted it to stop.
“Never did, not then, not now.” He was referring to that night. He’d tried to stop me, to stop himself, but in the end, he’d given in. I’d been sixteen to his eighteen. I knew what I wanted then though, just as I knew it now.
His face to mine, he inhaled deeply.
“Zane?”
“Shh. Be quiet.” His forehead pressed against mine again and, with his eyes open, he closed his mouth over mine. Surprised, I remained still, letting him kiss me. It started out slow, both of us tentative, the moment too fragile, and when he stopped, I thought it was over. But he leaned his forehead against the wall, his mouth near my ear, his breathing quiet. “I’m trying really hard not to want this, Aria.”
“Stop fighting it.”
“You don’t know what you’re getting into. You don’t have a fucking clue.”
He pulled back, but I cupped his cheek, holding him close. “Then tell me.”
“I have.” Darkness and desire built inside his eyes as his gaze settled on my mouth. I kissed him then, a tentative, uncertain kiss, my palms on his chest, moving to glide over his shoulders, his neck, while his grip tightened around my hips.
“I need this, Zane,” I whispered between kisses. “I’ve needed this for so long. I need you.”
His tongue passed between my lips, and I opened to him. His hands circled my wrists and pinned them over my head as he took my mouth fully, pressing his hardness against me, the heat of his chest, his belly, his cock. The intimacy of that kiss had me moaning into his mouth, my body coming alive. Apart from that night with him, I’d never been with a man. There hadn’t been anyone I’d wanted. My life wasn’t exactly normal though. I’d hardly dated. All I’d focused on, all I’d obsessed over for the last six years was that I needed to avenge the deaths of my family. I needed to find Zane Von. And now, I’d found him.
Pulling back, he looked at me again, his eyes darker, almost gleaming. “You taste good, Aria. You feel good.” He went back for more then, taking another kiss that I easily offered up to him, and when he loosened his grip on my wrists, I placed my palms flat against his chest, feeling the strength there, the power within this man as I circled his biceps, thinking for the first time in a long time that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t alone. That I belonged here, with him. Always had.
Maybe that was why I’d been searching for him all along.
I pressed my body against his as the kiss grew in intensity, pulling him to me as I did. All I knew in that moment was him, his mouth, his touch, his body, his scent. And all I wanted was him. He cupped the back of my head then twisted his fingers in my hair, pulling me closer while grinding himself against me, his hand closing over my breast, weighing it, but in the next moment, there was a knock, and the door opened. Zane broke the kiss, stepping backward, turning to Fly.
“Z—” But he halted mid sentence. “Shit. I’m sorry for interrupting, man.” He made to close the door.
“No, it’s fine. You weren’t interrupting anything.”
I listened to him negate what had just happened between us as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as if trying to wipe away the feel of me. That hurt worse than anything else he’d said or done.
“What’s up?”
“Stuff,” Fly said, glancing at me.
“Be right out,” Zane said. Fly nodded and closed the door.
Opening the closet door, Zane pulled a T-shirt out. That was when I got a good look at the tattoos on his back.
“Wait.” I grabbed the shirt, not allowing him to pull it over his head and cover himself.
“Wha
t?” he asked, turning toward me.
I went to walk around him, but he moved so I couldn’t. “Your back.”
“Don’t, Aria.” I didn’t answer and we remained watching each other for a long time. “Don’t.”
But I had to. I had no choice. Even though what I found would change things, I had to. Finally, he released me, allowing me to walk behind him, to see.
I took in the markings, but the one that caught my eye was the one spanning his right shoulder blade, where one tattoo had been covered by another. And I recognized both. I remembered how Bryan had come home with the beginnings of the very same marking a few days before he’d died. I remembered how upset, how angry my mom had been when she’d seen it. I’d never seen her so panicked. He’d never gotten to have the piece finished though. He’d been killed before that.
“What is this?” I asked, fingertips touching the original pattern, the details of which were skewed by what he’d done to it. “Bryan had this.” I traced the lines. “A wolf coming out of the ashes of man. But you covered it over. You covered it with the black rose.”
He faced me slowly, pulling the shirt over his head. I stepped backward, the sound of glass crunching under our feet the only one apart from our breathing.
“What is it? What is the original tattoo?” I needed to hear it from him. As much as I didn’t want to believe it, I already knew.
“It’s the symbol of the pack I used to belong to.”
“Pack? Please, just be straight with me.”
“I am, Aria. I’ve been straight with you since you came back here. Think of it as a gang, if you have to.”
Fine. I could do that. “You belonged to something like that?”
He nodded, running his hand through his hair and looking away.
“Why did Bryan get that? What were you telling him?” I recalled the page from Bryan’s diary, remembered how Zane had told him he’d have to leave us behind. It sounded like he’d had a much bigger role in what was going on in Bryan’s head than he was letting on, but I knew that, didn’t I? If I were honest with myself, I knew that. “Were you trying to initiate him? Was that what everything was all about? Was that why he was killed?”
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