Dark Wolf Rising

by Rhyannon Byrd

  Hoping her legs would keep her steady, Chelsea moved to her feet. She ran her fingers through her drying hair, smoothed them over her shirt, then reached for her wineglass and carried it into the kitchen, where she could hear the three women quietly talking.

  “Is there any way to kill them?” she asked, joining the women at a small, but beautifully polished breakfast table.

  Torrance frowned. “Are you planning on trying to off one of them? Because we’ll definitely take exception to that.”

  She shook her head, her fingers nervously twisting the stem of her glass as she said, “I just want to know what I’m dealing with. Do silver bullets work?”

  The recessed lighting in the high ceiling made Michaela’s dark hair look midnight-blue as she reached over and patted her hand. “This isn’t a movie, Chelsea. Bullets can slow them down, no matter what they’re made from, but they don’t kill them.”

  “What does?”

  Torrance still looked cautious. “Why do you want to know?”

  Michaela slid an understanding look at her worried friend. “It’s okay, Torry. She’s not looking to murder anyone. She’s just scared.”

  “You don’t need to be,” Jillian told her, going to the fridge and grabbing them each a bottle of water. “Not of Eric and the Runners. They’re golden. They’d die before letting anything happen to a woman or child. But to answer your question,” she said, sliding back into her seat and twisting the cap off her water, “a Lycan can be killed if they get cut up too badly and bleed out. But the only way to really make sure they won’t heal from their wounds is to snap their spinal columns or remove their head from their shoulders.”

  “But deaths from bleeding out don’t happen often,” Torrance added. “Jillian is a miracle worker.”

  “What do you mean?” Chelsea asked, opening her water and taking a drink, the cold liquid feeling like heaven in her dry throat.

  Pushing her hair behind her ear again, Jillian slid her a wry look from the corner of her eye. “I’m the pack’s Spirit Walker.”

  It must have been clear from her expression that she didn’t understand, because Michaela said, “She’s like their holy woman, Chelsea. Their healer.”

  Realization slammed her between the eyes like a two-by-four. “You’re...one of them?” she wheezed, coughing, thankful she hadn’t just taken another sip of water, since she’d have spewed it all over the table.

  “My parents are both Lycan, so yes, I’m one of them,” Jillian said in a friendly, but matter-of-fact tone, as if she’d just admitted that her parents were members of Costco, instead of a shape-shifting wolf pack. “But as a Spirit Walker, I can’t take the shape of a wolf.”

  “Oh.” Chelsea pulled her lower lip through her teeth, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. She never would have guessed that the beautiful blonde’s parents were werewolves. But then she never would have guessed that Eric was one, either. Oh, she’d known he was alpha and rugged and more than a little primal—but only in an athletic, purely masculine, sex-god kind of way. The idea that he might grow fangs and claws and howl at the moon had never even crossed her mind.

  “I know it’s a lot to take in right away,” Torrance murmured, “but you’ll get used to it.”

  She gave a short, dry laugh and shook her head. “Oh, I doubt I’ll be here long enough to get used to it.”

  Jillian’s brows lifted with surprise. “Really? Eric’s going to let you leave here unprotected?”

  “Eric doesn’t have any say in it,” she replied a little more sharply than she’d intended, but the idea that she needed his permission set her on edge. “Once I’ve got Perry, we’re going home.”

  Torrance’s voice was soft. “And what if Perry doesn’t want to go home? It sounds like she’s pretty crazy about this guy she went after.”

  Chelsea felt a little sick inside. “I don’t know,” she admitted, not wanting to even consider that gut-churning scenario. “If that happens, I’ll just have to do whatever it takes to make her see reason.”

  “You know those men from that club could be watching your condo,” Jillian pointed out. “It won’t be safe for you there.”

  “Then we’ll find somewhere else to stay. But we both have lives to get back to. We can’t stay here forever.”

  Jillian looked as though she was going to argue, but a quick glance from Torrance stopped her. Instead, they talked more about the Runners while Michaela reheated the lasagna they’d brought over for her dinner. While she ate at the small table, the women told her stories about the men they’d fallen in love with, and it became clear that even though the Runners were fiercely protective and possessive, they weren’t overbearing about it. Instead, they were true partners, giving back as much as they took, and if even half of what the women said was true, it was obvious that they were incredible husbands. They were also madly, desperately in love with their wives.

  After the delicious meal and a hot cup of coffee, Chelsea found herself relaxing to the point that she could finally enjoy herself. Torrance, Jillian and Michaela were wonderful women who sounded like they had found themselves some equally wonderful men. Chelsea didn’t believe it happened often—but it clearly seemed to have happened for these three.

  “Before we go,” Jillian said, after they’d decided it was time to call it a night, “I just want to tell you that you’re in good hands, Chelsea. Men don’t come any better than Eric.” She must have read something in her expression, because her tone turned wry as she added, “I know he’s probably acted like a bit of a jerk at times, but I think he’s just being defensive. It’s clear that there’s some kind of connection between the two of you, and I’m sure he’s been worried about how you were going to take the truth about what he is. He’s probably been thinking that once you knew, you wouldn’t go near him again.”

  The words put a strange ball of warmth in her chest, her mind looking over their interchange that afternoon with new, startled eyes. “But he seems so confident,” she murmured. “Arrogant, even.”

  Jillian laughed. “I know, but then he’s an alpha. Arrogance comes second nature to guys like him.” She grinned, saying, “And I know it might seem like it at times, but alpha isn’t a synonym for asshole. Keep him in his place, but just...do me a favor and cut the guy some slack every now and then. I love him like a brother, and I want him to be happy.”

  “He’s lucky to have you,” Chelsea said, truly meaning it. “All of you.”

  “And we’re lucky to have him.” Jillian started to make her way outside, but stopped at the door to look back and say one more thing: “Just remember that you have him, too, Chelse.”

  * * *

  Taking a long, satisfying drag from the last cigarette in his pack, Eric decided he’d wasted enough time wandering through the forest and headed back to the Alley. He’d tried to stay focused throughout the long afternoon, while Chelsea had slept, but his thoughts had kept fixating on the human. On how she was feeling and if she was sleeping well. On whether or not she was still pissed at him for acting like an ass when they’d reached the Alley. On how it would feel if he was ever lucky enough to get her in his bed. He’d actually spent a lot of time thinking about that, even though he knew it was something that shouldn’t happen.

  Then, as the hour had grown late and he knew she’d probably woken up, he couldn’t stop thinking about how she was taking the news from Torrance, Jillian and Michaela. The worry was driving him out of his friggin’ mind.

  Thankfully, he caught sight of Jillian the moment he entered the Alley, just as she was heading up the front steps to the cabin she shared with Jeremy. She turned as soon as he called her name, a small smile on her lips when she saw him. “Hey, you.”

  “How’d she take it?”

  Tucking a pale strand of hair behind her ear, she propped her shoulder against a porch beam and said, “Better
than I thought she would. I think it’s going to take a while for her to get comfortable with the idea, but she has an open mind. She’ll be able to accept it. She just needs a little time to process everything that she’s learned.”

  “But she’s okay?” he asked, stubbing out the cigarette with his boot and shoving his hands in his pockets. “She isn’t freaking out?”

  “She’s doing fine. We got some wine in her, then fed her some lasagna, and gave her some coffee. But she’s still tired. I think the drug was pretty hard on her system. We only just left, but she’s probably already out for the count again in your guestroom.”

  “Oh. That’s, uh, good, then.”

  Jillian gave him a knowing smile, as if she knew exactly how disappointed he was that he wouldn’t get the chance to talk to the human again until tomorrow. “I like her, Eric. She’s got backbone.”

  “What does Michaela think?” Though human, Michaela had the ability to read others’ emotions—a skill that had come in handy for their group during the nightmare with his father.

  “Mic says that she’s worried and scared, but that she has a lot of inner strength. She also has a good heart—we think it’s just been a little bruised somewhere along the way. She tries not to get too emotional about the people who are close to her, but it isn’t because she’s cold or uncaring. It’s just the way she tries to protect herself from being hurt.”

  “She craves control,” he murmured, thinking it was another thing they had in common. But while Chelsea wanted to protect herself from the world, Eric worried about protecting the world from himself.

  Softly, she said, “She thinks you’re going to let her go back home.”

  His wolf seethed, snarling with fury and frustration inside his head, but he simply gritted his teeth and said, “When this is over, she has to. She shouldn’t be here. Humans and wolves don’t mix.”

  “Whoa.” Jillian’s brown eyes went wide. “Is that your father talking?”

  “I’m not a racist,” he ground out, while a muscle started to pulse in his jaw. “But for those like me, it isn’t safe. You know that.”

  “And what about the Whiteclaw and the Donovans?”

  His voice was getting harder. “I’ll deal with them.”

  “For her?”

  “Because they need to be dealt with,” he growled, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets before he did something stupid, like put his fist through a tree in a childish display of temper. Jillian would never let him live it down.

  “Eric, why can’t you just admit the truth?” Her head tilted a bit to the side as she studied him. “You want her.”

  A grim smile twisted his lips. “Yeah. But is it for the right reasons, or the wrong ones?”

  Frowning, she said, “I don’t believe this. You’re worried about what happened with your dad, aren’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t you be?” he asked, his tone dry.

  “Eric, you can’t keep doing this. You’ve got to have faith in yourself. You’re your own man. He doesn’t have any hold over you.”

  His gaze slid away, focusing on the dark sway of the trees as the wind rustled through their branches. “You sure about that, Jilly?” he asked in a soft, almost silent rasp.

  “Completely. But you need to stop distancing yourself from everyone and take a chance on finding happiness.”

  “If you’re talking about finding a woman,” he murmured, cutting her a wary glance, “I’m not looking for a relationship.”

  “And maybe it’s about damn time you did.” She sighed, her tone softening. “You’d make an incredible mate, Eric. And a wonderful father.”

  The surprising sentiment snagged his attention like a fish hooked on a line, and he mentally chewed on it, intrigued by the flavor. A family? Marriage? He didn’t care for it, but the idea was definitely something to think about, if for no other reason than the fact that he had noted the differences between his life and the life that a few of the Runners had recently found for themselves. During the build-up to his father’s maniacal plans, three of the lucky sons of bitches had found their life mates. They were now so blissed-out in love it was hard to look at them and remember what they’d been like before, almost as if the hollows of their lives had been filled with...with something he didn’t even know how to describe, a sense of belonging now replacing the bitterness they’d carried not so long ago.

  Was it really a woman, then, that he was craving? Was that what had made him so restless and edgy lately? Christ, he hoped not.

  If that’s it, I’m screwed, he thought, a deep-rooted scowl slowly spreading over his face like a shadow falling over the ground, while a fresh burst of frustration roiled through him with the searing, blistering burn of a flame. After all, what were his odds of ever finding her—the woman who was meant to belong to him, body and heart and soul? He already knew all of the women in the pack and not a single one of them carried the scent that marked them as his.

  As if she could read his mind, Jillian said, “You’re not going to find what you need up on the top of this mountain, Eric. Those women aren’t right for you.”

  He didn’t like it, but she had a point. The pack females he’d been with over the years didn’t complain. Didn’t demand. Didn’t expect anything from him. They didn’t...hell, they didn’t even know him. Not a single one of them. He’d spent his whole life growing up with those women, but he wasn’t a flesh and blood man to them. He was a dark wolf. Something not to screw with...just to screw.

  Not surprising, then, that he needed something more. But he couldn’t see himself taking a human mate, the way Mason and Brody had done. Anything between him and a human female was simply too risky...too dangerous. So where the hell did that leave him?

  It leaves you alone, you miserable jackass. So suck it up and learn to deal with it.

  Yeah, deal. He’d been dealing since he was a kid, which meant he should be damn good at it by now.

  Irritated by the uncharacteristic, unsettling train of his thoughts, Eric turned his attention back to Jillian. As if she hadn’t had enough fun screwing with his head for one night, she said, “Have you thought that maybe this thing between you and Chelsea has happened for a reason?”

  “What? You mean like fate?” His chest shook with a breathless laugh. “Open your eyes, Jilly. This is a goddamn nightmare. For her and me.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I think you’re looking at it the wrong way. The drugs. Her sister. It put the two of you in a situation where you had to get past your baggage and be close, intimate. It proved to her that you could be trusted. Proved the same to you, actually. Maybe that’s why it happened.”

  “If you’re right, then I think fate is a little too keen on gambling with her safety. How could I ever expect her to trust me when I don’t even trust myself?”

  “A little faith. That’s all you need. And if you ask me, the idea of the two of you together makes perfect sense.”

  “A human and a dark wolf?” He snorted, shaking his head.

  “Look deeper, Eric. And you’ll see what I’m talking about. I have a feeling you and Chelsea are more alike than you realize.”

  Look deeper? He didn’t think so. No telling what he might find lurking around inside the twisted depths of his psyche. “If you really think a human is going to be the answer to my problems, Jilly, then you’ve lost your mind. If I listen to you, I might as well have some kind of death wish.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  He gave another gritty laugh. “Because the Runners will be forced to hunt me down like a rogue if I let myself get too involved with her.”

  And was that the true crux of the matter right there? The reason why he was so attracted to her? Was he trying to punish himself? Did he have some kind of secret desire to end his life? Was that what it was all coming to?

  “Eric, that’s rid
iculous. I meant what I said before. You’re not your father. You won’t hurt her.”

  “You don’t know that,” he argued.

  This time, she was the one who snorted. “I know you.”

  “Yeah.” His smile was bitter. “And you know what I come from. Bad blood comes through, Jillian. You know that as well as I do.”

  “You’re wrong, Eric. I don’t believe that.”

  “Others do,” he grunted, thinking of the town that had turned its back on him bit by bit since his father’s death.

  “And you know they’re jerks, so they’re not important. Just take some time to think about what I’ve said.” She turned and started to head inside, then stopped and gave him a cheeky grin. “And trust me to know what’s best for you. Okay?”

  Eric waited until the crazy woman had shut the door behind her, then turned and made his way over to his cabin. Expecting Chelsea to already be in bed, he was surprised when he came inside and found her perched on the edge of a sofa, apparently waiting for him. He had no idea what kind of expression she wore as he shut the door and turned around, resting his shoulders against the dark wood. But whatever it was had her pulling her lower lip through her teeth, her scent spiking with a sudden surge of adrenaline.

  “You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said in a low voice. “I would never hurt you.”

  God, he wanted that to be true—which was why he needed to stay the hell away from her. But he didn’t know if he could do it. Even now, the force pulling them together was like a static charge against his skin, lifting the hairs on his body, hardening his muscles. He wanted to break her open. Get inside her. Stay there, steeped in her, for as long as he could.

  “It’s okay, Eric.” Her voice was a little husky, her blue eyes clear and bright. “You don’t have to keep looking at me like you’re expecting a meltdown. I’ve decided to be sensible about...this.”

  He fought back a lopsided smile, even while his insides were being ripped to shreds with the primitive need to take hold of her. And if he touched her, he had no doubt that he’d end up keeping her, satisfying one craving after another, for as long as it lasted. Which he knew damn well wouldn’t be long, if he lost control.