
Hunting Human By Amanda E. Alvarez
For two years, Beth Williams has run from the past---and the beast that dwells inside her. She is haunted by memories of being kidnapped and the savage attack that killed her best friend. Now Beth finally thinks she's ready to move on...with Braden Edwards, a charming, irresistibly sexy man who tempts Beth to embrace the present.
But the past lurks closer than Beth realizes. Markko Bolvek, one of the werewolves who kidnapped her, has tracked her to Portland, Oregon, his pursuit fueled by a hunger for vengeance. Only Braden, a werewolf himself, senses the danger shadowing her steps. The Edwards and Bolveks have been enemies for centuries---and despite the instant connection he feels with Beth, Braden isn't sure which side of the war she's on.
With suspicion at odds with their attraction, Beth and Braden must learn to trust one another to stop Markko for good. Can Beth accept the wolf within---and love a man who embodies everything she fears?
Dear Reader,
A new year always brings with it a sense of expectation and promise (and maybe a vague sense of guilt). Expectation because we don't know what the year will bring exactly, but promise because we always hope it will be good things. The guilt is due to all of the New Year's resolutions we make with such good intentions.
This year, Carina Press is making a New Year's resolution we know we won't have any reason to feel guilty about: we're going to bring our readers a year of fantastic editorial and diverse genre content. So far, our plans for 2011 include staff and author appearances at reader-focused conferences such as the RT Booklovers Convention in April, where we'll be offering up goodies, appearing on panels, giving workshops and hosting a few fun activities for readers. We're also cooking up several genre-specific release weeks, during which we'll highlight individual genres. So far we have plans for steampunk week and unusual fantasy week. Readers will have access to free reads, discounts, contests and more as part of our week-long promotions!
But even when we're not doing special promotions, we're still offering something special to our readers in the form of the stories authors are delivering to Carina Press that we're passing on to you. From sweet romance to sexy, and military science fiction to fairy-tale fantasy, from mysteries to romantic suspense, we're proud to be offering a wide variety of genres and tales of escapism to our customers in this new year. Every week is a new adventure, and we want to bring our readers along on the journey. Be daring, be brave and try something new with Carina Press in 2011!
We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to generalinquiries@carinapress.com. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.
Happy reading! ~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press www.carinapress.comwww.twitter.com/carinapresswww.facebook.com/carinapress
I expected that writing my first novel would be a solitary experience. I am very fortunate that I was wrong. At times it felt as though I had an entire army at my back supporting me and guiding me (and sometimes threatening me) toward the finish line. So in no particular order, I want to say thank you to: My parents, for instilling the belief that with work and dedication success will follow. Richard Abshire for his guidance and support in getting started. Larissa and Michelle for all of the last-minute readings and insights. My writer's group: Keith, Patrick, Larry, Kristen and Amanda (the other one!) for sharing the journey. Suzanne Frank and all of the Professors at the SMU Creative Writing Program, your dedication continues to astound me. My agent, Saritza Hernandez, for getting me started in the publishing world. And finally, my editor, Liz Bass, whose support and insight has ensured that the very best of my story is on the page. Thank you!
Contents
"Just pick one. There's a blonde by the bar, tits that bounce every time she laughs."
Markko snorted. She was, as Alek said, blonde. Generous tits. American, judging by her clothing. And completely oblivious to the predators in the room.
Boring.
"She'll scream," Alek offered, eyes never leaving the woman. "Probably beg..."
"They all scream." Markko grunted in frustration, tossed his cigarette to the floor and ground it out. "They all beg."
"You say it like it's a bad thing." Alek sighed and shifted, adjusting his crotch, with his gaze still locked on the blonde.
Markko looked away from the girl, his eyes moving over the crowd. "Forget the blonde. We aren't here to indulge your preferences."
"Fine," Alek grumbled.
Markko stalked away from him, shoving through the throng of dancers. He sneered at the smell of them: sex, sweat and alcohol. As remarkable as the rodents that scurried along the forest floor. None of them interesting. None of them challenging.
None of them worthy.
This was for Ivan. A celebration of his baby brother's birthright.
I'll find the one that makes it memorable.
Rachel always managed to talk her into these things.
One. I agreed to one drink.
Liz sighed. She should have known better; she never seemed to learn her lesson. Now, three and half hours, two pubs and one seedy after-hours club later, bad American '80s music blared from the speakers and her tennis shoes kept sticking to whatever concoction covered the floor. She was fairly certain her ears were bleeding and so much smoke hung in the air that her eyelids were beginning to feel like sandpaper.
Time to end the evening.
Liz worked her way back to the bar where she had left Rachel with several other hostel residents they'd been hanging out with for most of the night. Rachel's flirty laugh---the one that signaled she was more than a little tipsy---bubbled out past the circle of guys surrounding her bar stool. Liz maneuvered past and slid through bodies, making her way up to Rachel, who was laughing, flashing perfect white teeth and tossing her straight blonde hair. The pint in her hand, the one that had been nearly empty when Liz went to find the bathroom, was full again. How many did that make? Liz had no idea. It was harder to keep track when Rachel wasn't paying for them herself.
"Rachel..." Someone shouldered their way to the bar, shoving Liz forward. She made a desperate grab for the countertop, narrowly avoiding crashing into her friend. She didn't manage to avoid Rachel's full pint. Grimacing as the liquid soaked into the bottom of her sweater and the top of her jeans, she shot an offended glare over her shoulder.
Cold gray eyes held her gaze. The man's face was a study in contrasts. His features were angular---sharp cheekbones and a broad forehead, with a nose slightly too large to be ideal. Though young, his skin looked aged and rough, and the two-day-old stubble told her hygiene wasn't high on his list of priorities. His eyes were unusual, the color of cold steel and every bit as hard. A small scar ran horizontally through his left eyebrow and curved down to form a hook around the outside of his eye. His dark hair was shorn close to his head, a few tiny scars visible where his temple met his hairline. It could have been a handsome face, compelling at least, had he been clean-shaven with longer hair to soften the sharpness of his features. His eyes flashed and his lips thinned under her scrutiny. He straightened from where he lounged against the bar, his body issuing a challenge as he pushed himself to full height, towering over Liz's five-foot-seven frame.
His gaze raked deliberately down her slender body, leaving Liz with the sensation of a thousand tiny insects crawling over her bare skin. A knot of unease formed in her stomach as his eyes traveled slowly back up, finally coming to rest on her face. His gaze flicked to Rachel, burning across her face and shoulders, resting too long on her neckline, as a slow grin curled his lips.
Disgusted, Liz straightened, angling her body to cut off his view of her best friend. His attention snapped back to her. Liz spread her legs, lifted her chin and met his gaze head-on, refusing to cower under his height or his scrutiny. Surprise flashed across his face, as though he'd expected her to wilt.
Asshole. I'm not that easy to intimidate.
Whatever. She'd just grab Rachel and go. Before she could put her plan into action, the bartender plopped a tepid pint in front of him, the head of the beer sloshing over onto the bar. He reached for his beer, his cold eyes never leaving her. When she didn't move or otherwise react, his mouth twisted into a feral grin, his teeth flashing under the dancing strobe lights.
Liz took a step to the side, sick of the encounter, but he matched her movements. She couldn't continue forward and the bar pressing into her back cut off any retreat. Cornering her, he pressed forward, invading her personal space as completely as possible without actually touching her. He hovered above her and then bent his head and drew in a deep breath, inhaling as though he could taste her through the air.
Liz's patience snapped. She drove her shoulder into his body and muscled her way past him. "Excuse me," she snarled.
He didn't move, but allowed her to pass, forcing her to brush up against him. He took a long drink of his beer, eyes piercing her over the rim of his pint, before he turned and sauntered back through the mass of people and smoke.
Liz took a moment to steady her nerves and wipe her damp palms against her jeans before turning to Rachel.
"You ready?" She shouted over the music and conversation. Her tone or expression must have carried her irritation because Rachel paused and then snapped her mouth closed around her standard pleas for more time.
Rachel glanced at the guy she'd been chatting up most of the evening and found him swaying drunkenly into one of his friends and slurring his words. She caved. "Um, yeah. It's probably getting pretty late anyway."
She glanced at her watch and her head popped up. "Whoa, did we lose track of time or what? Guess we really should get going, huh?"
Liz reached out and steadied Rachel's elbow as she wobbled off the barstool. Rachel grinned, turning back to her bar buddy.
"Hey, Luke, we're heading back. You coming?"
Luke checked the time and grimaced. "Yeah, yeah!" He glanced around wildly and laughed. "You guys go ahead. I'll round up everyone else and catch up."
Liz kept her hand on Rachel, pulling her through the thinning crowd; it must be getting close to last call. They climbed their way up the steep set of stairs leading out of the basement, Bon Jovi wailing in the background. The crisp air hit them like a wall as they emerged onto the street. God, the morning was going to suck. Judging by the way Rachel had her head between her knees, hers was going to really suck.
"Alright, champ. Let's get out of the doorway."
They waited almost fifteen minutes, Liz bouncing her foot impatiently and Rachel leaning heavily against her shoulder. By the time the third group of drunken partiers emerged, Liz figured Luke and his pals had either decided to stay longer or had somehow slipped past them. Whatever. She was done waiting. A half dozen teenagers were drunkenly weaving their way in the direction of the hostel. Good enough. Liz grabbed Rachel under her elbow and propelled her up the street.
Two slow blocks later, Rachel was benefiting from the fresh air and beginning to move on her own. The group of kids they were walking with made a sudden right, heading up a narrow side street and disappearing into the lobby of a small hotel. The door swung shut behind the last pair, sealing their drunken noise away, plunging the rest of the street into silence.
Liz shivered. Nights in Estonia, even in the height of summer, were cool. As silence settled around them, cold began to creep in, spreading across the cobblestones and seeping through her clothes. Liz looped her arm through Rachel's and urged her to walk a little faster. "Come on Rach, a couple of blocks and you can be horizontal in no time flat."
"I'm dreading the morning." The giggle attached to the statement said Rachel had no idea what she was in for. With any luck, she'd sleep straight through the worst of it.
They rounded the last turn and started the uphill walk, their destination finally in sight. The street, with lots of little shops and cafés, was empty but well lit. A white delivery van sat parked in an alley, nestled between a bakery and a tourist shop. In just a few hours, the street would start to come alive with residents and tourists walking up and down the cobblestone ways. There wasn't a chance in hell she'd be awake to experience it.
Rachel let out a long yawn followed by a groan. "I'm exhausted. Are we there yet?"
Liz shot her an amused grin over a shoulder. "Watch it, missy. Or you could share his fate." She inclined her head toward the kid slumped on the stoop of a small shop. He was propped up sideways against the brick wall and the store's blue door. His head hung at an undoubtedly uncomfortable angle, curly brown hair obscuring most of his face, an open bottle of beer next to him.
This was their routine. Rachel partied, Liz studied. Rachel drank, Liz drove. Rachel got them into trouble, Liz got them out of it. It had been that way since they were kids, and as annoying as it was, Liz wouldn't change it. It was who they were; it just worked.
Up ahead on the other side of the street, someone leaned against the wall, the red embers of a cigarette the only thing distinguishable in the shadows. The small flame arched through the air. A man emerged into the lamplight, crushing out his dying cigarette as he went. Liz's pulse stuttered into overtime as she recognized him as the man from the bar. She pulled Rachel closer and focused on the hostel up ahead in the distance.
Walking parallel across the street, the man called out, "I figured you for the hostel."
His words shot through darkness, thick and heavily accented, clearly Eastern European. Increasing her pace, Liz narrowly avoided a collision with a man who stepped out of a shadowed doorway and into her path. He was shorter than the man across the street, but broader in the shoulders. The sleeves of his dingy white shirt were pushed partway up his forearms, revealing angry vines of tattoos that disappeared under his shirt and reappeared at his neck, twisting around his throat like a noose.
"Lizzy?" Fear now, more than alcohol, tinged Rachel's voice.
"It's alright," Liz murmured. "Excuse us." She focused past the man and stepped off the curb with Rachel clinging to her side. In her peripheral vision, she tracked the other man moving parallel along the street. They were only two hundred yards away from the hostel. It felt like miles.
Liz stumbled as Rachel jerked away from her, letting out a terrified squeal. Refusing to relinquish Rachel's hand, Liz spun. A third, younger man had grabbed at Rachel's shoulder. Fear slid down her back. The kid from the café doorstep stood grinning, rocking back and forth on his heels, looking neither drunk nor harmless. Rachel backed up, pressing herself as close to Liz as she could. They took a few steps back in tandem.
Staccato barks sounded next to them, sending Rachel spinning wildly in panic. Liz forced her fingers into an iron grip on her friend's sweater and yanked, keeping Rachel from bolting from her side. Tears of fear and frustration welled in Rachel's eyes.
"Shh. Listen to me. Stay with me," Liz murmured, trying to keep Rachel out of panic's grasp. The man across the street stepped off the sidewalk, ego lengthening his stride.
"Poor little Americans. Alek, I think you've frightened them," he taunted.
Alek's face stretched into a wide, pleased grin, his mass of tattoos contracting over the muscles of his neck.
Liz glanced over her shoulder; the kid was still behind them, though he had fallen back a few yards. She and Rachel might be able to rush past him, but to where? Beads of sweat began sliding down the back of her neck, slipping along her spine and eliciting a chill unrelated to the temperature.
An ignition fired, the hum of an engine filled the air; hope sparked in her chest.
Please.
The van parked by the bakery edged onto the street, creeping toward them. Hope twisted and died when the van's headlights remained dark. They'd have to run.
Decision made, Liz spun back toward Alek, who'd gone from barking to panting, his tongue lolling obscenely in Rachel's direction in a sick imitation of an animal. There was a small gap between him and the man in the middle of the street. Liz knew she and Rachel could never get past both men. Squaring her shoulders, she threw her foot into Alek's crotch with enough force to have him choking on his balls. His animal-like pants turned to howls of pain and rage as he doubled over from the blow.
Shoving past him with every ounce of her strength, Liz propelled Rachel forward, placing herself between her friend and the remaining two men.
"Run!" Liz commanded.
Rachel didn't need to be told twice. She hurtled up the cobblestone street, Liz following close at her heels.
One hundred yards.
White-hot pain erupted in the back of her head---someone had caught hold of her hair and wrenched. The force pulled her off her feet and she hit the street, breath snatched from her lungs and tears of pain burning her eyes. Relief mingled with terror. Rachel hadn't realized what had happened.
Almost there, almost safe.
Seventy-five yards.
She grasped at the wrist that viciously gripped her hair, pulling her back up to her feet. She didn't need to see his face to know that the body pressed against hers belonged to the man she had encountered in the bar. "Call her back," he demanded.
"No," Liz ground out, proud her voice didn't waver.
Fifty yards.
"Stop!" The shout startled Rachel enough to glance behind her and slow. "Come back, or I'll have to hurt your friend." He shifted his grip, freeing up his right hand. The heavy swish-clink of a butterfly knife opening reached her seconds before the blade bit into her throat. To Liz's horror, Rachel stopped.
"No!" The tip of the knife nicked her, a bead of blood trickling down to join the sweat running down her neck. Rachel stared at her, eyes wide, mouth open in terror. "Rachel, please, just go." The pleading tone ---so typical of Rachel and so alien to Liz, kept Rachel from moving forward. But she didn't move back either.
"She won't go. She won't leave you." Amusement laced his voice.
Alek moved forward, taking a few cautious steps toward Rachel. In seconds Rachel would have no chance of escape at all. Liz opened her mouth to yell at her again, but the blade slid up to press tightly to the underside of her chin.
"None of that." His lips pressed close to her ear, his warm breath sending unwelcome shivers down her spine. "Come here, Rachel," he ordered.
When Rachel remained frozen, his knife widened the nick in Liz's neck to a shallow cut. "I will slit your friend's pretty throat."
His promise skittered down Liz's spine.
"It would be such a waste." Panic clawed through her as his tongue stroked the shell of her ear.
"Lizzy..." Rachel's torment resounded through Liz's chest. In that instant, she knew Rachel would never leave her. Liz wanted to be mad. She wanted to scream. But she couldn't have left Rachel, either.
Time snapped forward. Alek grabbed Rachel roughly by the elbow and propelled her forward. The van pulled up right next to them, the sliding door screaming open on a rusty track. Liz didn't get the chance to brace herself for the impact as she was shoved to the floor of the vehicle, cheek pressed against the cold metal, her hands yanked behind her back and secured with plastic ties. The last thing she saw was Rachel's tearstained face as she was forced down next to her. Then the sliding door slammed closed, plunging them into absolute darkness, leaving only Rachel's terrified sobs to focus on, echoing in her head and slicing through her heart.
Tears burned in the corners of Beth's eyes. Her muscles flinched and jerked, and her pulse hammered in her head. The cold tile of her bathroom floor wasn't enough to stop the cold and greasy perspiration sliding down her back. Heaving herself to her knees, she managed to brace herself over the toilet as the retching started again.
Minutes passed like hours, until finally, her muscles relaxed their stranglehold on her body and her heart rate began its slow descent toward normal. Her hands continued to shake with fine tremors as she pulled her fingers through her hair. The shaking would plague her through the morning.
Get up. Get going. Put it behind you and get on with the day.
Beth hoisted herself up. The bathroom mirror reflected the alarm clock next to her bed---still early, not even six yet. Enough time for a hot shower to soothe the residual cramping and then a strong cup of tea.
By the time she dried off, her hands were steady enough to hold a mug and the nausea had passed. But the damage was done. She barely recognized her reflection in the mirror. The fluorescent lighting made her slim face appear gaunt. It accented her pale complexion and the dark circles beneath her eyes.
You look like a zombie movie extra.
Resigned, she reached for her makeup bag, dreading the battle with concealer. She didn't have a magic hand with makeup---that had always been Rachel's department. Beth frowned, ruthlessly cutting off that train of thought.
Forward not backward. Right.
She pulled open the medicine cabinet and chased a couple of ibuprofen with the last of her tea, carefully ignoring the neat row of sleeping pills, antidepressants and antianxiety meds. They only made things worse. She could do without the heavy limbs and groggy head the sleeping pills always left behind. A few hours at the gym after work and she'd be so exhausted she probably wouldn't miss them. She'd stopped taking the other medications months ago. They hadn't helped.
Beth slammed the cabinet shut and flipped off the light. Grabbing her gym bag from the floor, she tossed her purse and cell phone inside and snatched her keys off the counter. She double-checked that the door was locked and then stepped into the murky Portland morning.
Cool spring air, moist from the night, fogged her windshield as she maneuvered her Jeep onto the road. She'd been in Portland nearly five months, the longest she'd remained anywhere in more than a year and a half. She was toying with the idea of staying longer. She was tired of moving, starting over, learning new names, new streets, finding new jobs. And she liked it here, liked the forests that surrounded and threaded through the city. She felt less antsy, less restless. Maybe she'd stay long enough to purchase some furniture, hang a few pictures, make her tiny apartment a home.
Fifteen minutes later, Beth pulled into the downtown lot a few blocks from the café where she worked. Purple, pink and fiery orange streaked the horizon, slicing through the gray, heralding the sun's return. Maybe she'd dig her camera out sometime soon, catch the sunrise through her photographer's eye. A warm thrill flooded her---it had been too long since she'd held the comforting weight of a camera in her hands.
The Morning Grind sat on the northern edge of downtown, within walking distance of the Pearl District. Because of the location, the small coffee shop and café saw a variety of customers. Most this early would be office workers, but as the morning progressed, the suits and secretaries would give way to the bustle of students, artists, friends and regulars.
Beth entered through the service entrance off the back alley. The smell of freshly ground espresso beans and the owner's voice screaming into the phone greeted her.
"Morning, Angie."
Angie slammed the phone down and glanced at her tiny wristwatch, face pinched in agitation. "You're late."
"I'm on time," Beth corrected with a grin.
"Same thing." Just under five foot four and slender, with hips she liked to toss when the moment suited her, Angie was a force of nature. Her face showcased sharp cheekbones and even sharper green eyes that glared over black-rimmed glasses with little rhinestones extending down the frames. Her nails were always neatly polished and she had a mass of curly red hair straight from a bottle.
She had the look and disposition of a firecracker.
Disapproval flared across her face. "You look terrible. Is it too much to hope you were out late painting the town red with some mysterious man whose name you can't remember?"
Despite herself, Beth laughed. "Rough morning already, Angie?" she asked, tying an apron around her waist.
"Just the usual trouble with Joe. I order blueberries, he sends cranberries. Late, I might add. I don't know why I put up with him. I'd never have these problems if I went through one of those fancy wholesale suppliers." The lines near Angie's mouth and eyes became more pronounced as her temper simmered.
"You keep him around because he supplies the best produce from the local markets, which pulls people into the café. Besides, I think you like yelling at him."
Angie shot a glare over the top of her glasses. "I can't imagine where you'd get such an idea."
"Marianne thinks you're having a torrid love affair with him. She insists all that pent up tension is fueling wild sexual debauchery in the storage room."
Angie's neutral expression surged to stormy in a heartbeat. "Marianne is a ridiculous busybody who wouldn't recognize wild sexual debauchery if it bit her on the ass." She was also Angie's older cousin who hadn't had the stomach for retirement and instead spent her days gossiping at the café and driving Angie nuts.
"If there's tension between us it's because that man is constantly undermining my business. I've got to change my morning specials from blueberry to cranberry-orange. The entire flow of my day has been compromised!" Angie yanked open the drawer by the sink and started slamming wooden spoons and spatulas on the counter.
Beth carefully edged past her toward the door. "Okay. I'll just go take the chairs down."
"After which you'll sit your bony butt in one and have something to eat! You still look like shit!"
\*\*\*
Braden Edwards shifted the bouquet of flowers as far away from his nose as possible. He sneezed. Again. The pollen was wreaking havoc with his senses but he couldn't afford to toss them. He was counting on them to take the edge off Angie's aggravation at his having been out of Portland for more than a month.
Glancing both ways, Braden stepped off the curb, crossing the street with long strides, a sentimental smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he made his way toward the café. He loved this area of town, had grown up here in a way, and Angie's place held special significance for him.
His family had been in Oregon for over a hundred years and in Portland for nearly fifty. His grandfather had moved to Portland with little money, no friends and a relentless work ethic. He'd gone from construction hand to business owner. Thanks to him, the Edwards name was known throughout Portland as the best in commercial and residential restoration and renovation. Angie's café had been the first project Braden had worked on during the summer he turned sixteen.
Braden stepped into the café, sending the little bell above the door jingling. No matter how many times he walked in The Morning Grind, he was always momentarily thrust back into one of the best summers of his youth.
Sofas were reupholstered, new curtains hung on fancy rods and, at some point, Angie had repainted the bookshelves that were now bursting with everything from old copies of National Geographic to abandoned textbooks. Tables changed, dishes were broken and replaced. The little changes never bothered him; he always focused on what remained the same.
He remembered hanging the blue door with its stained glass inlay. As he inhaled, he swore he could still smell the varnish and seal he had used on the hardwood flooring which he worked so hard to save. To his left, where a couple of college kids sat side by side in the bay window seat ignoring their textbooks and lattes, Braden saw a sixteen-year-old kid measuring and jotting down notes for his first carpentry project. As he walked, he ran his hand along the bar, passing chocolate covered espresso beans and fancy cookies that always tasted like crunchy cardboard to him. The remembered sensation of countertop adhesive sticking to his skin made him flex his fingers as he entered the kitchen.
"Man, I was hoping for blueberry." Amused, Braden watched Angie's head snap up, her eyes narrowing in automatic response to his voice.
"Customers don't belong in the kitchen." She dismissed him, turning back to her mixing bowl.
"Come on, Ange. I brought you flowers." Braden waved them in Angie's direction, desperate to be rid of them.
"Don't know what I'd want with a bunch of weeds."
Braden knew better. Lilies were Angie's favorite and Braden hadn't missed a birthday, Mother's Day or special occasion in more than a decade. He figured it was only fair considering he'd terrorized Portland with her twin boys in his late teens.
Caught off guard, Braden sneezed twice, managing to catch most of the second with his sleeve.
"Disgusting. This is a kitchen, not a hospital." Angie pointed the business end of her wooden spoon in Braden's direction. "And give me those. You're crushing them."
"Missed you, too, Ange." As she snatched the flowers away, Braden took the opportunity to brush a quick kiss across her cheek.
"Mmm-hmm. Go wash the snot off your hands. I won't have you infecting my kitchen. Did you have a good trip?" Angie pulled a large glass pitcher from a cabinet and took her time arranging the flowers.
"It was fine. Mostly business. I did get a chance to see my parents for about a week." Braden aborted his attempt to sneak a scone as Angie pulled her spoon from her apron. Not worth the risk. "How are Mike and Tim?"
"Get a plate and a napkin." Angie said, sliding the spoon back into her apron pocket. "And you probably see more of Michael than I do. But Timothy is fine. Nancy is expecting again, sometime in November."
Braden let out a low whistle. "How many does that make? Three? Four?"
"Four. Would it be too much to ask for you or Michael to settle down?"
"Harp on your own kid. I get it enough from my mother. Besides, you never like any of my girlfriends, Ange."
"That's because they're all frivolous idiots. The right woman would do you wonders, Braden Edwards."
Awareness slipped across the back of his mind. His muscles tightened, shifting his frame from restless to predatory before he fully processed the sensations. Danger? No. He didn't feel threatened, only unsettled.
"Hey Angie, are the scones ready to go out?"
A voice, warm and calm, flooded through him, driving away the unease. A cool, fresh scent like a summer morning on the water quickly followed, invading his senses and eclipsing the familiar aroma of Angie's baking.
Braden swung around, eyes tracking the young woman walking through the kitchen door. She paused when she spotted him, eyes darting to Angie.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had company." She glanced back toward him, shifting from foot to foot.
Angie spoke up. "Nonsense, ignore him. Scones are cooling on the counter."
"Thanks, Angie."
Braden's eyes never left the woman as she passed him. His frenzied senses focused exclusively on her, leaving such a complete impression he doubted he could ever forget it.
Temptation to step up behind her burned through him.
Was her skin as soft as it looked?
He imagined the feel of it beneath his fingers as he trailed them across her neck, skimming along the alluring curve of her spine. Would she arch into him, offering that full bottom lip for him to savor to his satisfaction? The intimate details of how she'd move beneath him as he fastened his mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder seared his mind.
It took all of his willpower to pull back from the fantasy playing out in his thoughts. Restless and uncomfortable, he poured the rest of his coffee into a to go cup, topping it off from the pot by Angie's elbow. As his senses began to settle, he caught little snippets of conversation, deft answers for Angie's rapid inquiries. Ease and efficiency passed between them, speaking to a strong working relationship and mutual respect. She wasn't a new employee. How was it possible he'd never met her before?
He tracked her as she lifted the tray of scones and moved toward the door, carefully ignoring him as she did. The lack of acknowledgment made him hope that the awareness he felt around her was returned. He'd been a teenager the last time a woman had so thoroughly unsettled him without a single word. He didn't appreciate the sensation.
Angie's wooden spoon connected with his elbow.
"Ow! Dammit, Angie, that hurt!"
"Don't even think about it." Angie had one hand fisted on her hip, the other brandishing her weapon of choice. Disapproval pinched her face.
"Jesus, Angie. I didn't say anything..." The spoon connected with his knee before he could move.
"You'll watch your mouth in this kitchen, Braden Edwards."
"Sorry. I'm going." He grabbed his coffee and stood.
"Nice try, slick." Angie hooked her arm through his and spun him toward the back door. "You leave Beth alone."
Braden stopped just inside the kitchen. "What happened to a good woman would do you wonders?"
"Not that one." Her tone sliced through his amusement. "She's complicated. Not quick to socialize." Angie's tone went soft. "There's a past there. She's not suited to casual romances."
Braden stared over Angie's head, willing Beth to walk back into the kitchen. "Do you think she's in trouble?" The question left his lips before he'd fully thought it through. The surge of concern he felt for a woman he didn't know should have bothered him. It worried him that it didn't.
"That's not our business." Angie shoved him toward the door, ending the conversation.
"Sure." He wouldn't press the issue. For now. "Later, Ange." He let the promise hang between them as he stepped outside.
Braden stepped out of the elevator into the seventh floor lobby of Edwards Construction.
"Good morning, Mr. Edwards." Shirley Marks strode toward him, her practical heels clicking against the wood floor like a metronome.
"Morning, Shirley. My brother in yet?"
"He's been and gone." Braden heard the frown in Shirley's voice as she followed him down the hall to his office. "You were supposed to be in over an hour ago. If you had called I could have rescheduled him."
Shirley had been Braden's executive assistant for almost five years. Neat, organized and professional, she managed the office with military precision. Deviation from schedule was never tolerated.
"I ran a little late. I'll catch up with him later."
Shirley tsked as she retrieved a file from her desk. "Your brother left these for you to sign. The yellow tabs mark the areas requiring your signature."
Braden glanced through the folder. "Any calls this morning?"
"None so far. Will there be anything else?"
"Not right now. Thank you, Shirley," he said as he unlocked the door to his office.
"You're in late this morning."
Braden spun, adrenaline pulsing through his system, tightening his body and honing his senses. "Christ, Chase. You damned near gave me a heart attack." Braden sank into the chair at his desk, willing his muscles to uncoil, blinking against the suddenly harsh fluorescent lighting. "Asshole."
"Way to use those killer instincts." A wide, toothy grin accompanied Chase across the room, where he sprawled in one of the leather club chairs opposite the desk. He was utterly relaxed in a worn pair of jeans, navy blue sweatshirt, and sneakers that had seen too much action. But he looked good---whole and healthy.
"How'd you get past Shirley?" Braden asked.
"The woman gets her coffee at the same time every morning. She probably schedules time to take a piss." The humor slipped from Chase's face and his dark blue eyes tightened. "You should be more concerned that I slipped past you."
Braden sighed. Chase had spent so much of his childhood surviving solely on his instincts that he'd never learned to fully relax them. Still, he should have noticed Chase was in his office from the moment he opened the door.
"I guess you didn't register as a threat."
Chase's grin issued a challenge.
Braden ignored the invitation. "We missed you last week. Mom was really hoping you'd make it for Dad's birthday."
Chase ducked his head, hunching his shoulders. "I know. I meant to. Did your dad get the steaks I sent him?"
"Our dad, Chase. He's been your father for more than a decade." Braden wanted to push the point further; Chase was his brother, even if bloodlines said differently. But his expression was closed and his posture defensive.
Not the time for this argument.
"He got them. We went out back, enjoyed a few cold ones and had a cookout on the built-in grill Mom had installed last Christmas. The steaks were great. Must have cost you a small fortune."
"I'm glad he enjoyed them." Chase paused, then quietly added, "I wanted to be there." His gaze wandered past Braden and fixed on the window.
"He understood."
Chase turned back to Braden, quietly assessing the truth of the statement. "I got a last-minute call. I didn't think it could wait."
"Anything interesting?"
Chase stood and removed a folded envelope from his back pocket. Withdrawing a grainy photograph, he smoothed out the creases and placed it on the desk.
Markko Bolvek.
Shit.
Alarm and excitement raced through him. "When was this taken?"
"Six days ago, we caught him coming into Seattle-Tacoma International. He flew in with an American passport." Chase gripped the edge of the desk. "I did some checking. He's entered the U.S. under the same name four times in the last six months, always through a major city on the West Coast."
"Do we know why he's in Seattle?" Braden asked, continuing to study the grainy image.
"He's not in Seattle. He was gone by the time I got there." Chase pushed away from the desk. "It took a while to track him down; he was careful. Used cash for everything. Thank God he's habitual. It didn't take long to find a hooker who recognized him."
"Is it too much to hope he's chatty after sex?"
Chase snorted and shook his head. "But fifty bucks got us the location of his hotel. He checked out before I got there. He was there less than 48 hours."
"Security cameras in the parking lot?"
"No. Just behind the desk. The clerk said he paid and got directions for I-5 South."
"You think he's coming here." It wasn't a question. Chase wouldn't be so agitated if he wasn't sure there was a threat.
"It's a guess. Something's got him coming in and out of the U.S."
"How did we get a hold of this picture in the first place?" Braden pushed the picture back to Chase.
"There's been some activity in Europe---we were looking for him. One of our informants tipped us off that Markko has been moving in and out of the West Coast lately."
"But why?" Braden swiveled back and forth in his chair, trying to piece together a reason Markko would risk an appearance in Portland.
"I don't know, but I intend to find out. The Bolvek family is getting bolder. We think Markko's making some decisions outside his father's knowledge." Chase lifted the photo from the desk and stuffed it back in his pocket.
"That could work to our advantage. Markko's vicious but he's not as smart as his father. It could be an opportunity to wipe them out completely."
"That's the thought. But until we know what Markko's doing here, you need to watch your back." Chase cast him a heavy look.
"I will. I doubt he'd risk making any direct contact with me anyway."
"Even so. Until we know what he wants, he's dangerous." Chase paused, his brow creasing. "You'll talk to your parents and Lucy? I saw Caleb this morning."
Braden sighed. "Of course. But you should call them, or stop by. They miss you."
"I will. But right now I've got to track down Markko, figure out what he's doing here." Chase moved away from the desk. "If you pick up on anything, give me a call."
Braden followed his brother to the door, placing his hand against the solid wood so that Chase couldn't open it. "Where are you crashing?"
Chase shrugged.
"Dammit, Chase. We've had this conversation. I don't like you staying on the streets. It's dangerous. What if someone sees you?" Braden applied more pressure to the door in frustration.
"It'll be easier to track him if I'm out on the streets. The sooner I find him the better." Chase reached for the doorknob again. "We need to know what he's doing here, Braden."
"Fine. But I want you to take a key to my place. You have to sleep eventually."
Chase sighed. "I have one."
"Make sure you use it." Braden studied Chase's face closely. "I mean it. If you don't stop by every couple of days to eat, sleep, whatever, I'll get Dad on your ass."
"Fine."
"I'm not kidding. If that doesn't work, I'll call Mom." The fussing would drive him nuts.
"Okay. I'll see you in a few days."
"If I'm not there, leave a note."
Chase rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mom. Where are you planning to be anyway? Got a girl on the side?"
"Not yet." With a wide grin Braden removed his hand, allowing Chase to open the door.
Braden shut the door on Chase's response. "You mean not likely."
Markko rolled over, pulling out of the whore beneath him, her pitiful whimper the only indication she was conscious. It was her own fault. He'd flashed some bills and she'd followed him to a room, eager to score some quick cash. She was in no position to complain---he'd paid her price. It was more than she deserved. No amount of his coaxing had convinced her to rise to the challenge. Oh, she'd pleaded and begged, and finally screamed so he had to push her face into a pillow to keep from drawing attention; but there was no real fight in her. The fatal flaw in whores; they were already resigned to their fate.
The pathetic bitch whimpered again as she started to rise. Boredom and disappointment pushed him to shove her the rest of the way off the bed. He longed for home and the freedom to do as he pleased.
He swung his long body over the edge of the bed, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. He flipped open the lighter and ignited the paper and tobacco. Soft cries echoed through the dark as the whore collected her clothes.
Pathetic.
A deep drag and a satisfying rush of nicotine hit him. It was enough to keep him on the bed. Barely. He couldn't risk the attention a dead prostitute would generate. He'd learned that lesson in San Francisco.
He took another drag, lazily blowing smoke into the darkness. Back home he'd have kept his hands wrapped around her neck as he'd pistoned in and out of her. He would have gloried in knowing the last thing she ever felt was his absolute ownership. Or, if the mood struck, he could have toyed with her for hours, days, if he had the time and patience. The terror of impending death could be almost as stimulating as the vicious fight for life. His dick began filling again just thinking about the possibilities.
Out of the corner of his eye, he tracked the whore's movements. Her hands shook as she pulled her shirt over her head, wincing as it brushed against skin. She clutched her shoes to her chest, scanning the room warily for her purse and hesitated when she spotted it on the nightstand.
If she came back to the bed, he wouldn't be responsible for his actions.
She left the bag and escaped into the parking lot. Apparently she thought her life was worth more than the five twenties she left behind. Not likely. But just as well---he wasn't here for her. He lit a new cigarette with the embers of the old one. He wanted the bitch that killed his brother; wanted her on all fours, begging and pleading. Wanted her badly enough to defy his father. His father who'd ordered him to forget about Ivan, abandon his revenge.
The old bastard still believes he controls me. He barely controls the pack.
His father's authority no longer went unquestioned. The Bolvek name no longer held the same power. Inspired the same fear. The raids on their territories and the continuing interference in their businesses over the last decade had destroyed far more than wealth and numbers.
Power was shifting. Even now, whispers of his father's strength grew and traveled. Instigating doubt. Inviting challenge. Three assassination attempts in the last eighteen months. All failures. The most recent he'd dispatched himself.
He stamped out his cigarette against the headboard. His father's time wasn't at an end. Not yet.
Not until I'm ready.
Soon enough he'd step in. Terminate his father's reign. It was the cycle of things. Natural for the younger to supplant the elder. The strong to dispatch the weak. He knew it. His father knew it. In time, Markko would wage war against his father's rule. Restore the fear of the Bolvek name.
But not yet. First, he had a score to settle. He'd have the bitch responsible for Ivan's death. With patience and skill, he'd reduce her to little more than a mindless animal. Only then would he allow her to die.
An eye for an eye, bitch.
"Chai latte for Michelle!" Beth secured the lid and pushed the to go cup across the bar.
"Take a break."
Rolling her shoulders, Beth glanced over the bar at Angie. "I'm fine." She flashed a smile to back up her statement. Mornings were always hectic and to top it off they were short staffed and one of their espresso machines was on the fritz. In less than thirty minutes, the lunch crowd would start rolling in.
"I didn't ask if you were fine. You've been on your feet all morning, so take a break."
Beth glanced around the café there was definitely a lull. A break now would probably be a good idea. "Alright. You win. I'll bus the empty tables and grab a snack."
She pulled a bin from under the counter, then moved around the bar, intending to slide past Angie. Angie, as usual, was two steps ahead. She stepped directly into Beth's path, a warning glare cutting through her glasses.
"Take. A. Break." Angie got two well-manicured hands on the side of the tub and gave a fierce yank. "I'll take care of this." When Beth didn't immediately let go, Angie's eyes flashed and her lips went white and thin, her fingers curling like claws into the tub. The message was clear: lose the tub or lose your hands.
Beth had realized within the first week of working for Angie that it was best to pick her battles. This one had loser written all over it. "Okay, okay." She let Angie yank the tub away from her. "There are a couple of open tables outside. I'll be back in fifteen." Beth untied her apron as she walked toward the kitchen.
"You'll be back in five." Angie helpfully supplied. "The sky's going to let loose any minute."
"What?" Beth craned her neck around the corner to glance out the back window. A huge storm was rapidly devouring the sky behind the café while the sun still streaming through the front windows was completely deceiving.
Beth swallowed several creative curses, grabbed her keys out of her locker and rushed for the back door. "I left the top down on my Jeep. I'll be back as soon as I can." Angie's shout of "Take your time" barely registered as she hit the sidewalk at a run.
\*\*\*
Braden was several blocks from the café when the first fat raindrop hit the pavement in front of him. Cursing, he shoved his paper between his teeth, freeing up a hand to open the umbrella he'd grabbed on the way out of his loft. The air was heavy with the crisp, fresh scent that permeates the atmosphere just before a good soaker. With any luck he'd make it to Angie's before it really let loose.
Braden spared a quick glance for any traffic before stepping into the street rather than waiting for the light. Halfway through the intersection his attention snapped to a woman in the parking lot across from him. It took less than a heartbeat to recognize her.
Braden watched for a moment as Beth struggled with the soft top of her Jeep. This opportunity was too good to pass up. He had stopped into the café a couple of times in the last few days, and mysteriously, he always seemed to miss Beth. He suspected Angie was running interference. It was hardly a deterrent---his curiosity grew every time Angie tried to shut him out. Coupled with the hyperactive awareness he felt the first time he met Beth, it was too much to resist. He had to know her.
His dimples flashed, a predatory smile crossing his face.
Perfect timing.
Beth looked like she could use an extra set of hands and Angie wasn't here to meddle. Can't be everywhere, can you, Ange? Braden strode confidently into the public lot and right into the largest pothole on the planet. Angie's laughter rang in his ears.
"Perfect." He pulled his leg from the hole and examined the damage. Muddy water stained his khaki pants halfway to his knee and his left shoe was completely soaked through; his sock already clinging to his skin. He could only imagine the picture he presented. Undaunted, he shook out his pant leg and shrugged off the blow to his ego. A little water wouldn't kill him.
She had her back to him as he approached, struggling to clamp down the top of her Jeep. He was still ten yards away when his senses fired. The hair on the back of his neck started to rise, his vision became sharper. Beyond his control, his nostrils flared, straining for the moment her scent would rush through him. It was one of the strangest experiences of his life---and one of the most potent. Every muscle, every sense, every single cell pulled him forward.
A few steps brought him close enough to see the raindrops in her hair dance and sparkle with every furious yank. Four more strides and she engulfed him. The scent of her mixed with the powerful, almost violent scent of lightning in the air had him salivating. The woman was a sensory feast and he hadn't even touched her. The thought of touching her, of having her naked beneath him sent a rush of heat through him, finally coiling low in his gut. Braden clenched and relaxed his fingers. He'd never felt like this, so out of control, so animalistic.
What is it about this woman?
Determined to find out, he closed the remaining distance between them and maneuvered his umbrella until she had some protection from the steadily increasing rain.
"Can I help?" His body tight with anticipation, his words came out rough as ground gravel.
He was close enough to hear her breathy gasp of surprise. And close enough he couldn't avoid the elbow she plowed directly into his solar plexus.
Braden staggered, gasping for breath as she spun to face him. Her face flooded pink the moment recognition dawned in her eyes.
"I'm so sorry!"
"It's fine," he wheezed. At least the blow to the gut helped get his raging libido under control. "You've got one pointy elbow."
"Really, I'm very sorry." Beth reached out to lay a hand on his forearm, but pulled back at the last second. "You spooked me."
"It's alright." Braden sent her a quick grin that was still half grimace and shoved his umbrella into her hands. "Let's get the rest of this covered before it starts to pour."
Beth stepped aside, switching places with Braden. "Be careful, the top's really stiff." She watched fascinated as he planted one leg inside the Jeep and got a firm hold on the top. He had to bend a bit at the hips to get the right amount of leverage. As he pulled the top forward, well-defined muscles bunched and stretched across his back. Her mouth went dry as she let her gaze wander down to a firm backside and long, lean legs. He had the lines of an athlete---broad shoulders over narrow hips, lean muscle broadcasting a powerful grace.
"Gotcha!"
Beth snapped her head up, her face coloring in embarrassment. Thankfully, Braden was focused on zipping up the windows. Lightning splintered the sky and a long roll of thunder raced in behind it. Seconds later, as though the lightning had torn a seam in the clouds, the rain began in earnest, falling in heavy sheets of gray. Dashing around the side, Beth tossed the umbrella into the backseat and began furiously zipping up the passenger side window. In the half minute it took to get the window up and throw the door open she was soaked.
"Get in, quick!" The words were barely out of her mouth before Braden was settling into the driver's seat and pulling the door closed. The silence that settled thick and heavy between them drowned out the furious sheets of rain.
"I guess we aren't going anywhere soon." He slid his seat back and turned his dimple-infused smile on her. "It's really coming down out there. You'll drown before you make it back to Angie's." He paused and glanced at his watch. "Unless you're done for the day? In which case, I'm at your mercy." His brown eyes, warm and friendly, settled on her face. "Don't toss me out."
"My shift doesn't end until three." She swallowed around the nerves clogging her throat and forced the edge of her mouth to quirk up. "By the way, thanks. I'd never have gotten the top up in time on my own."
"No problem. I was on my way to Angie's and I saw you waging war out here. It would have been ungentlemanly not to stop." He smiled fully this time, dimples drawing deep lines through his face, clearly aware of their charm. "Relax, I won't bite."
"I suppose that would also be ungentlemanly." Beth didn't bother to hide her laugh. She could do this. She could interact with another human being like a normal person. Why this human being put her so on edge, she had no idea.
"Unquestionably. How long have you been working for Angie?"
Beth peeled herself away from the door. "Nearly five months now."
"That long? I can't believe we haven't run into each other before now."
"Well, I used to work the closing shift. I didn't start working the morning shift until just recently."
"Yeah, that explains it. Coffee after noon keeps me up half the night."
"You could always order decaf." Beth pulled one leg up underneath her so she could turn to face him better.
"Coffee without caffeine? Blasphemy. Like beer without alcohol."
"Just plain wrong, of course," Beth said, relaxing into the silly conversation.
"Surely you've never had the poor taste not to enjoy coffee in its natural state."
"Of course not." Mischief quirked her lips. "Strictly a tea drinker."
"Water and mulch? You're breaking my heart." Braden's face set into a serious frown. "You're not a vegetarian, are you?"
Laughter bubbled out of her. "No. I enjoy a salad as much as the next girl, but every now and then, you just have to have a steak."
"Filet?" He asked, as if it were the most important question in the world.
"Mmm, not bad. But when I want a steak, it's prime rib all the way."
"Marry me?"
"Red meat is hardly a basis for a lasting marriage."
"But it's an excellent foundation for dinner. How's tomorrow night?
He said it casually, as though they were still joking around, but his expression charged the space between them with an intensity the storm outside couldn't match.
"I don't think..." Beth hesitated. Since she'd started at the café, several of the customers had tried to chat her up---a few had even left their business cards---but she'd never given any of them a second thought. So what had changed?
"It's just dinner. There's a great restaurant just a few blocks from here. They have some of the best steaks in Portland."
Beth forced herself to glance away before she said something stupid. She should turn him down. She was more comfortable than she'd been in a long time; things were finally starting to feel normal.
Don't complicate things, Beth.
But even with all the logical reasons she could come up with to turn him down, she couldn't force a polite refusal past her lips.
As if sensing the opportunity, Braden plowed forward. "You wouldn't leave me to dine alone, would you?"
"It would probably be rather unladylike." Oh God, she wasn't saying no. Her life was far too complicated for this, eventually he'd have questions, want to know about her past. What then? Dammit. For the first time in a really long time she wanted to let a charming, handsome man take her out. There had been times when she wondered if she would ever feel that way again.
Not fair.
"Most unladylike." Braden reached out and tucked an errant curl behind her ear.
Beth hesitated. She could feel the heat of her skin where his fingers brushed in retreat. Say no. Her brain supplied the words, but her lips stubbornly refused to cooperate. Instead, she dragged her gaze from his hopeful brown eyes and fixed them just over his left shoulder. "It's stopped raining, we should get going." Before he could say anything, Beth slid out of the car, relieved to be back out in the open.
\*\*\*
Push or retreat? Braden wondered. Which would work best with this woman?
He had the damnedest feeling that if she said no, he wouldn't get a second chance. For whatever reason, she was hesitating. He could exercise a little patience, put her at ease and try again.
"Come on, I'll walk you back to Angie's," he said.
"You don't have to do that."
"I was headed there anyway. Besides, I've got the umbrella." Braden reached into the backseat and pulled out the umbrella she'd tossed as they'd thrown themselves into the car. "Got the keys? We'll lock her up and get going before the rain starts up again."
She fumbled, but produced the keys from her pocket. "Right here."
"Great." He reached in, pressed the lock button and swung the door shut. "Got everything?"
"Yeah."
Braden gently cupped her elbow and steered her toward him; it was subtle but he felt tension seize her muscles beneath his touch. "Careful, there's a man-eating pothole just to your right." He forced a smile for her benefit. One day soon she'd tense in anticipation and pleasure, rather than nerves. His hands itched with impatience. It would be so easy to rest his large hands on her slender hips and back her up against the nearest vertical surface. He had to forcibly tear his mind from the way her hips would feel under his palms. He wasn't a teenager, he could wait until she was ready or at least until they weren't in public. Until then, plan B---conversation.
"Have you lived in Portland long?" They turned the corner out of the parking lot and headed up the street. People were beginning to emerge from shops and restaurants, hurrying up the sidewalks to get back to their cars.
"No. I moved here just a few weeks before I started working for Angie."
"And before that?" They paused, waiting for the light to change.
She paused, as though considering her answer carefully. "Traveling mostly. I was pretty burned-out when I graduated from college. I decided to take a little time to decide what I really wanted before I threw myself into the workforce."
Braden glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He'd bet everything he owned she knew exactly what she wanted to do. It was another question he'd find an answer to...later. "What? No ambitions toward a career in the coffee business?"
She laughed. "God, no! I love Angie, but there are days when I just..." She made a frustrated gesture with her hands. "Argh! Days when customers are never happy, the espresso machines are on the fritz, my feet ache and all I can think is that I am never, ever, going to wash off the smell of burned coffee."
"And to think, you don't even take advantage of all the free caffeine." Bit by bit her nerves were fading---she smiled more, became more animated.
"You're right. I should quit tomorrow."
"Hell, don't do that. Angie would have my head." They rounded the corner; the Grind's flag was waving from an overhang at the top of the next block. "You must like something about it. You've been there almost six months."
"I like Angie. She's easy to work for."
"You've got to be kidding! Angie? Easy to work for?"
"No really. She's tough, and she likes things done her way, but you always know where you stand with her and I always feel like she looks out for the people she works with. It's nice."
"That sounds like Angie." Not quite ready to get back to the café, Braden slowed his pace a little. "But I still couldn't work for her," he muttered.
"She takes a lot of pride in her business. It shows in everything she does, from the way she plans the menus, to the way she maintains the café. It's easy to see why she has so many regular customers."
"What do you mean?"
"Everything about the Grind is inviting, from the comfy sofas to the way the building was restored. The café itself is amazing, the ceiling tiles and moldings all look original, everywhere you look there's something interesting, something old. Even the door is interesting and different. I've worked there six months and I still find new details. Somebody took a lot of care with the building."
Braden placed a careful hand at the small of her back and reached around her to pull the door to the café open. "That somebody would be me."
"What?" She waited for him as he paused in the entry, propping the wet umbrella in the corner.
"Edwards Construction did the renovation. It's our family business. The Grind was one of the first projects I worked on with my father. That's how I met Angie."
"You did an incredible job."
Warm with pride, Braden trailed Beth into the kitchen.
"Hey, Ange."
Angie glanced up, shrewd gaze assessing them in one quick sweep. "Oh, good. You haven't drowned."
"I'm sorry. Braden helped me get the top up, but we waited in the Jeep until the rain stopped. Did things get busy?"
"It's fine. Come take over for me, I want to get the soup on the stove." Beth went to work putting together what looked like a variety of sandwiches.
Angie grunted as she pulled a large pot of soup out of the built-in fridge.
"Let me help with that."
Angie's glare stopped Braden before he'd taken a half step toward her. "I've got it," she snapped. "Been doing this long enough without you, haven't I?"
Braden held his hands up in surrender and watched, more than a little amused, as Angie hefted the pot of soup onto the stove and flicked on the burner. While she was preoccupied, Braden tried to subtly slide toward Beth.
"Customers belong up front."
Braden rolled his eyes. Damn, that woman had eyes in the back of her head.
Braden ignored her. "Is that tomato basil?" Angie's silence was answer enough. "Aw, Ange, for me? You know it's my favorite." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a playful kiss to the side of her cheek.
"Back up, Edwards." Angie angled her elbow into his ribs, forcing him to retreat. "You can go grab a table and buy a cup like everyone else."
"I'll just wait back here." Braden met Angie's disapproving glare with a grin. "Better company."
"I resent that!" Marianne bustled through the door, carelessly tossing the tray she was carrying into the sink. Hands free, she pulled Braden's face down for a kiss. "Hiya, handsome."
"Out! This kitchen isn't big enough for everyone."
Braden opened his mouth to protest.
"Edwards..." Angie brandished her soup spoon in his direction, sending red droplets flying. He knew, without a doubt, she'd whack him with it.
"Okay, okay. I'll go." Braden let his dimples flash in a wicked grin at Angie's smug expression. "As soon as Beth tells me what time to pick her up tomorrow."
Beth paused in the middle of loading the sandwiches onto an empty display tray. "What?"
"Our date? You. Me. Steak. Tomorrow night, remember?"
Beth grasped the tray of sandwiches and made for the door. "I don't think..."
Braden took a small step to block her path. "I'm not leaving until you say yes. Say yes, Beth."
"Yes." Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open, as though shocked by her own answer. Before she could take it back, Braden charged ahead.
"Perfect. How's seven?"
"Seven's good. Where should I meet you?"
"I'll pick you up. Let me just get a piece of paper to jot down your address."
"I can meet you."
"I don't mind." But even as he said it, he knew for some reason she did mind. It hardly mattered---she'd agreed to dinner, he didn't care where he picked her up. "Okay, why don't I meet you here? The Chop House is only a few streets up. If the weather cooperates we can walk."
Marianne let out a low whistle.
Red blossomed across Beth's cheeks, as though she'd just realized they had an audience. "Okay."
Braden smiled, he would have gone for broke and given her a hug and a casual kiss goodbye but she had that stupid serving tray clutched in front of her like a shield. "Tomorrow, then." He stepped fully out of her way and watched as Marianne followed Beth through the door, already shooting questions.
His laughter died in his throat when he caught Angie's expression.
"Braden..." Angie let the threat hang in the air, lips pressed tight in disapproval.
"Relax, Angie. She's a big girl." His phone beeped twice, indicating a text message. He pulled it out and quickly checked the message.
Shit.
"Look, I've got to take care of this." Angie's expression didn't change. Dammit, he didn't have time for this. "I like her, okay? It's only dinner. Would it make you feel better if I promised to have her back by midnight?"
"That's not necessary." Angie turned back to her soup, adjusted the temperature of the stove and began stirring furiously.
Regretting the sarcasm, Braden leaned over and gave Angie a quick hug and a soft kiss, "I'll be careful, I promise."
Angie glanced up at him, her face serious. "I can't talk you out of this?"
"No." The last of his humor fled. "Not this time."
Something in his tone or expression settled her, because she gave him a quick nod of approval and removed a large plastic container from the cabinet next to the stove. "Give me a minute and I'll send some soup home for you."
It took ten minutes for Braden to walk to his car from Angie's; enough time to run the brief text message through his head fifty or sixty times.
"Eighty-seventh and Foster. Need pick up. C."
According to Braden's GPS, he'd have time to run the message through his head a couple hundred more times before he caught up with his brother. There was nothing menacing about the message, no 911 at the end indicating an emergency. The same text from any other member of his family would have sparked only an idle curiosity, maybe the anticipation of an entertaining story. But from Chase? It had him wondering how many stitches would be necessary.
Braden pressed the call button on the steering wheel and growled, "Dial Chase." His call went straight to voice mail. Just like the last three times he'd tried. "Dammit, Chase." He cranked the volume and let the Rolling Stones distract him as he drove across town.
Forty-five rainy minutes later, Braden's GPS cut into "Paint It Black" to tell him he'd arrived at Eighty-seventh and Foster. He pulled up to the curb, flicked on his hazards and glanced around. The area was exactly what he expected: derelict and depressing. Of the dozen or so buildings lining the street, more than half were boarded up or condemned, several had broken windows and one had been gutted by fire some time ago. Under the afternoon's gray mist, the entire street seemed to sag under the weight of age and circumstance. Braden could only imagine what kind of crime and human decay these buildings stood silent witness to on a day-to-day basis. He had no desire to stick around and find out.
Up the block on the left, the halogen lights from a tiny gas station and mini-mart glowed unnaturally bright against the dinge of the street. A few cars sat in the lot, but the gas station remained as still as the rest of the area. In fact, the only movement Braden detected was the flickering neon sign of a tattoo parlor a few hundred feet up the street. But no people and no Chase.
"Where the hell are you, Chase?" Cursing his brother for being so damn difficult, Braden reached into the backseat and grabbed his jacket. He was already frustrated and worried; add cold and wet and he'd be plain pissed off. Braden got out of the car, turned the collar of his jacket up and slammed the door shut. "I swear, Chase, if you aren't dying, I'm going to kill you."
Braden began picking his way up the block toward the gas station. He'd work his way up, and if he had to, he could work his way back down on the other side. With any luck he wouldn't have to figure out what to do if he got all the way back to the car without his brother.
He stepped closer to the row of buildings, pressing in under the narrow overhangs that provided a little protection from the wet weather. He maneuvered his way up the street, ducking his head into alleys and glancing into abandoned storefronts. He bypassed the tattoo parlor entirely---not a chance in hell Chase would set foot inside there. Maybe the gas station?
"Hey sugar, looking for some company?" A woman with bleach-blond hair and long, red nails stepped out of a narrow alley separating the tattoo parlor from the next building. She casually tossed a cigarette as she gave him an assessing once over.
"No thanks." Braden ducked his head and tried to step around her. Keep moving, avoid eye contact.
"You sure, honey? You look a little cold, bet I could warm you up."
Braden sidestepped to avoid the nails she tried to drag down the front of his jacket.
"I'm just looking for someone." Ah, shit. Judging from the slow smile that curled her lips he'd said exactly the wrong thing. Every step he took to his left to try to ease around her she matched with a step to her right until they'd switched positions.
"Baby, we're all looking for someone." She advanced toward him, teetering on high heels that matched the hue of her nails. The cheap vinyl of her shiny black raincoat crinkling with each step.
Braden choked. Since they'd switched positions, the light from the gas station on the corner played across her face. Desperate to look at anything but the Adam's apple and the five o'clock shadow, Braden caught movement down an alley to his left. Fifteen feet down his brother was leaning against a dumpster, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.
Thirty seconds from homicide, Braden ground out, "A little help?"
Chase planted his feet and pushed away from the dumpster, his first steps stiff and uncoordinated. The way he had his arm draped across his upper abdomen sent Braden rushing into the alley.
"Hey," Chase acknowledged. "Thanks for the ride." His clenched teeth and labored breathing spoke louder than his forced casualness.
"What the hell happened to you?" Braden reached out to place a steadying hand under his brother's elbow.
"I'm fine." Chase scowled, wrenching his arm out of Braden's grip.
"Oh, yeah, you're fine." Braden maneuvered his brother out of the rain and against the wall of the tattoo parlor to gauge the damage. Chase's hair was damp and plastered against the side of his face, his normally tan skin ashen except for the bluish tinge under his eyes. Judging from the hair along his jaw, he hadn't shaved since Braden had seen him four days ago.
He probably hasn't bothered to change clothes, either.
To top it off, blood stained the sweatshirt where Chase had his hand pressed against his ribs. Great. Typical Chase: single-minded to the point of self-destruction.
Braden kept one hand pressing his brother's shoulder against the brick wall and used the other to try and lift the sweatshirt away from whatever wound his brother was going to insist didn't exist.
"Don't." Chase barked, tension spiking through his body.
Braden froze, his wrist caught in Chase's unyielding grip. It was typical of Chase to laugh off a minor problem or scoff at what he considered his family's overprotective mothering. But the slight shift in Chase's stance, the strain coursing through every fiber of his body and the cold defiance in his eyes said Chase felt defensive, cornered. That reaction set Braden's teeth on edge.
"I'm not in the mood, Chase." Braden met his brother's cold gaze with a steely look of his own. When the grip on his wrist didn't recede, Braden tightened his hold on Chase's upper arm and growled, "This isn't up for discussion. I need to know what we're dealing with." The grip on his wrist relaxed.
Braden slid his arm out of Chase's grasp and gently took hold of the sweatshirt again. The moment he began lifting the material, Chase shifted his weight further into the wall and dropped his head. For a moment a hunted twelve-year-old stood in place of his brother.
Braden lifted the shirt and bit back a curse. Chase's left side, starting above the waistband of his jeans and spreading up through his shoulder, was turning livid shades of blue and black. He'd bet anything the bruising extended along his back as well.
"Christ. What'd you do? Go ten rounds with a bus?"
"Actually, I think it was a '75 Cutlass."
"Ouch. Probably would have done better against the bus." Concentrating, Braden ran his hand gently over his brother's ribs, none felt broken, thank God, but a six-inch gash wrapped from the underside of his ribs around toward his back. Chase's sweatshirt had absorbed most of the blood and the cut seemed to be clotting. Still, it looked nasty. "This is gonna need stitches."
Chase wrenched his sweatshirt down. "It's fine. Looks worse than it is."
Braden counted backwards from ten. Twice. "Whatever. I'm not having this argument here. I'll go get the car."
"I can walk." Chase pulled away and started up the alley.
"Fine." Braden focused on keeping his mouth shut around his frustration and matching Chase's pace as they emerged onto the street.
"I'd have been more fun, sugar." The blonde from earlier leaned against Braden's car. She took a long drag from a fresh cigarette and quirked painted lips. "Last chance."
"Get in, Chase." Braden felt his brother's amusement as he slammed into the car and started up the engine.
"I could take the car around the block a few times..." Chase offered.
Braden threw the car into drive and hit the accelerator. "Not a fucking word."
"Okay, okay." Chase shut his mouth and relaxed into the soft leather of the passenger seat.
Fifteen minutes and two zip codes later, Braden unlocked his jaw enough to speak.
"What happened?"
"A '75 Cutlass Supreme." A crooked grin pulled at the corner of Chase's mouth. "I think it was brown."
"Watch it, smart-ass. What happened before that? I haven't seen or heard from you in four days. You're lucky I haven't called Dad." Braden's knuckles turned white around the steering wheel.
"I was tracking. You'll have to forgive me if I forgot my curfew, Mom." Chase pressed his mouth into a firm line, expressions of exhaustion, pain and annoyance warring for dominance.
"Did you at least locate the asshole?" Braden merged onto the highway, wincing in tandem with his brother when the car ran through a series of potholes obscured by the rain.
"Would I have called you if I hadn't?" Chase rasped through clenched teeth. When nothing but Braden's stony silence filled the car he elaborated. "Yes, okay. He's staying at a motel a few blocks over from where you picked me up. I called Jason---he's tailing him for now. And before you ask, we still don't know what he's doing here."
"Where does the Cutlass fit in?"
"Markko left the motel a little after eleven last night; I tailed him. I can tell you he's been here a few days, he was moving pretty quickly, seemed to know where he was going. I was focused on staying out of his range. I didn't see the Cutlass tearing out of the alley until it was too late." Chase shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm lucky it only clipped me."
"That car's built like a tank. I don't know how you missed it in the first place." Braden muttered under his breath. Chase unclenched his fist long enough to flip him off.
"Did anyone see you?" Braden signaled and merged off the highway.
"Nah."
"You sure? We don't need that kind of complication."
"You picked me up, you tell me. Do you really think anyone in that neighborhood gives a rat's ass if they hit something with their car? Trust me, even if someone saw me, no one gives a shit."
Probably a fair assessment.
In a neighborhood like that, people were used to looking the other way.
"Fine. Want to explain why it took you more than twelve hours to call me?" After a lengthy pause, Braden cast his brother a sideways glance. "The next words out of your mouth had better be I was unconscious."
"You're hoping I had a concussion?" Chase braced himself against the door as the car sped through the intersection. "Ow! Shit, do you mind?"
"I didn't do anything!" Braden scowled at the hunched form in his passenger seat. "Don't change the subject. If you weren't lying unconscious somewhere, then explain what was going through that thick skull of yours when you decided to wander around with broken ribs and a six-inch gash!"
"We both know they aren't broken! And I did my job! I needed to wait until Jason got here to take over the tail. The minute he showed, I called."
It was always the damn job with Chase. There had to be a special level of hell reserved for annoying younger siblings. "Your health comes first, dammit." Anticipating the response, Braden cut him off, "Yes, even over the job."
"Would you stop hitting the fucking potholes already!"
Braden pulled to a stop at a light and turned to his brother, anger vibrating through every muscle. But the words poised on the tip of his tongue slid back, thick and choking, to lodge in his throat. Chase sat hunched over on himself in the passenger seat, what little color he'd gained in the warmth of the car draining from his face. Braden sighed. The only thing worse than arguing with Chase, was arguing with him when he was tired or hurt. And right now he's both.
"Is it so much to ask that you take care of yourself? Do you have any idea what it would do to Mom and Dad if you had died out here?" It was a low blow, but this was an old argument he was determined to win, no matter what it took.
"I know what I'm doing." The protest came out tired and halfhearted.
"I know. And I'm not asking you to go back to school if that's not what you want." Braden wished with every fiber of his being that Chase would go back to school. His life could be so much more. "I'm just asking you to take better care of yourself."
No reaction. No indication his brother was even listening. Chase just turned his face to the window and stared listlessly out the glass.
Fine.
"I don't want to have to go home someday and tell Lucy you aren't coming back."
Chase didn't turn to face him but Braden saw him squeeze his eyes shut in the reflection on the window, and then jerk his head once.
Good enough.
Impatient honking behind him snapped Braden back into traffic in time to pull through what was left of a yellow light and straight into another rain-filled pothole.
"You're aiming for them, aren't you?" Chase asked through clenched teeth.
"You bleeding on my leather?"
Chase leaned back into the seat and closed his eyes. "Nope."
"Then I'm not aiming for the potholes."
A smiled ghosted across Chase's face.
"You said Jason's tailing Markko?" Braden asked, redirecting the conversation.
"Yeah."
"Okay, then. Jason can handle that for now. We'll get a couple of others to come and help out if we need to. You can take a few days to rest."
"It's not that bad. The gash tore when I shifted. I'll be fine in the morning."
"A few days rest at my place won't hurt you."
But they might kill me.
Beth sprayed down the counter and began wiping in quick strokes. Anything to keep her occupied. Every time she had a spare moment a tempest of nerves snared her, dragging her under thoughts that swam in whirling circles.
"Nervous about tonight?" Angie asked, as she walked out of the kitchen.
"What?" Oh God, is it that obvious?
"Well, you're either nervous or trying to wipe all the varnish off my bar. That's the third time in the last hour you've sprayed it down."
Crap. Beth stored the cleaning supplies back under the sink. "Maybe a little, it's been a while since I've dated anyone."
Angie turned toward her and raised one perfectly penciled eyebrow. "Is that what you're doing?"
Heat infused Beth's cheeks. "Well, I guess. I mean, we're going to dinner." A slick wave of dread coursed through her. "Is that a problem?"
"If it is?" Angie kept her tone casual, but the hand she planted on her hip hinted at a challenge.
"I..." Unsure how to respond, Beth snapped her mouth shut. She liked Angie, considered her both a friend and a good boss, but she didn't like the direction of this conversation. She liked being pushed around even less.
Beth squared her shoulders, met Angie's gaze and prayed she wasn't about to get fired. "I'm sorry, Angie, but it really isn't any of your business."
"Good."
Torn between relief and indignation, Beth forced her jaw into forming words. "What?"
"Well, I didn't want to have to fire you for being a pushover." Angie's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I'm sorry." Angie reached over and gave her limp hand a quick squeeze. "Braden's like family. He grew up with my boys. I guess I just wanted to gauge your interest."
Beth let the breath she was holding whoosh out of her. "Well, you could have just asked! Do you scare all his dates half to death?"
Angie smiled. "You're the first."
"What makes me special?"
"Because when Braden looks at you, he sees something special. If I saw him look that way at another woman, I'd have something to say to her, too."
"Oh." Flattery and a fresh bout of nerves battled within her.
"You know," Angie said, her voice edging toward serious, "Braden tends to be tenacious when he's serious about something."
"It's just dinner."
"If you say so." Angie smiled, contradicting her without words. "Now get going."
"But I've got another hour left on my shift."
"We're slow. Go home. Get ready for your date."
"Thanks." Beth said, already taking her apron off and moving toward the back. A little spare time would be nice. She could redo her hair at least twice.
"If I'm not around when he picks you up, have fun tonight."
Fun, right.
Her thoughts began to whirl again as she walked toward her Jeep.
\*\*\*
Braden cursed and pulled the knot of his tie out for the third time. He hated the damn things and generally avoided them whenever possible. He stared himself down in the mirror; the tie would not win. He carefully adjusted the lengths and tried one more time to get it right.
"Over...under...around..." Braden's large hands fumbled against the dark green silk as he tried to stuff the thick end of the tie through the knot at his throat. "And through." Crap. The mirror confirmed what he already knew. Complete disaster.
"Either he's in love or he hasn't been laid in a really, really long time." Caleb's voice filtered in from the doorway. "What do you think, Chase?"
Braden cast a dirty look over his shoulder. He didn't want to know how long his brothers had been watching him struggle.
"I'm going with option two. Option one is too damn scary," Chase answered.
"Screw you." And screw the tie. Braden yanked the material from his neck and dropped it on the sink. Wasn't his style anyway. He tugged the starched collar of his shirt until it lay flat and obedient, then flicked open the top button.
Much better.
Braden grabbed his heavy silver watch off the countertop, sliding it onto his wrist as he shoved past his brothers into his bedroom. "When did you get here?"
"Just in time, apparently. Should we hide the cologne?" Caleb asked through his laughter.
Busy sorting through the mess on his closet floor, Braden paused long enough to shove his arm through the door and toss out a one finger salute. Was it too much to ask for a matching pair of dress shoes? Under two weeks' worth of laundry, an old gym bag and some boxes he kept meaning to get rid of, he found one brown shoe and one black.
Shit. Under the bed?
Stubbing his toe on God knew what, Braden limped his way back into his room and over to the bed. He dropped to his knees and scanned under the bed; running shoes, tennis balls, a couple of missing CD's...and one brown loafer. Thank God. He shoved his feet in his shoes and glanced at the clock. "Shit, I'm late."
He grabbed his jacket off the bed and crossed the room in four long strides.
"Forget something?" Chase emerged from the bathroom with Braden's tie knotted loosely and dangling from his fingertips.
"I don't need it."
"You need all the help you can get." Caleb grabbed his elbow before he could escape through the door.
"I'm late," Braden countered.
"Relax, princess. This will only take a minute."
Sandwiched between his brothers with no time to wrestle his way out, Braden rolled his eyes. It had to be some sort of cosmic joke that he was both the oldest and the shortest.
"Hold that." He tossed his jacket at Caleb and refastened the top button of his shirt in time for Chase to swing the silk noose over his head.
"What's he doing here anyway?" Chase asked, tossing his head toward Caleb.
"Babysitting." Braden jerked back as the tie cinched around his throat. "Watch it." He stepped back and caught his reflection in the mirror above his dresser. He had no idea where Chase had learned to tie a tie, but it didn't look half bad.
Chase leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, his expression petulant. "I'm not a kid."
"So you're not planning on jetting the minute I leave?"
Caleb's quiet laughter was the only response.
"Whatever." Chase didn't bother to contradict him; his mutinous expression made his feelings clear.
"Relax, bro. I won't make you go to bed by nine."
Caleb stumbled into Braden. Before the shoving could get out of control, Braden cut in, "Cut it out. He'll pull a stitch and I am not explaining to Mike why he has to drive all the way back out here."
"Buzzkill."
Braden ignored him and shrugged into his jacket. "You," he said as he pointed at Caleb. "Keep an eye on that one." He jerked his thumb in Chase's direction. "Mike left an antibiotic and a painkiller. Make sure he takes them with dinner."
Palming his wallet and his keys, Braden made for the door. "Later."
"Nah, we'll crash at my place. You know, just in case the mojo you're trying to buy with that tie actually works."
Braden slammed the door on his brothers' laughter.
\*\*\*
Beth checked her makeup in the cracked mirror above the hand-washing station in Angie's kitchen one more time. It would have to do. She'd tried twice to create a dramatic effect with some smoky eye shadow, but what the container advertized as "smoky nights" translated to "murky swamp" under her shaky fingers. Instead, she had settled for the navy blue eyeliner Rachel introduced her to years ago and a neutral shadow.
God, I'm boring.
"Nah, natural's a good look for you, Lizzy. Very Abercrombie." Beth knew the voice was only in her head, just as she knew the image of Rachel, smiling at her nerves, in the reflection of the mirror was only her imagination. But for the first time, the warmth of Rachel's memory pierced the bitter pain of her absence.
The swinging door that separated the kitchen from the café hit the wall with a bang, evaporating Rachel's reflection. "Girl, you're gonna knock him dead!" Marianne tore through the doorway, a pint-sized tornado of energy with a bus bin on her hip. "Turn around, turn around." The dishes rattled against each other as she dropped the entire bin into the sink and came over to take a closer look.
Amused, Beth did a quick spin to appease her. Marianne's enthusiasm was a welcome distraction.
"That's a great dress. And snazzy shoes," Marianne said, a wistful smile on her lips. "There was a time I'd dance all night in a pair of shoes like that."
"You mean last week?" Beth tossed over her shoulder as she reached for her purse and matching wrap.
Marianne's delighted laugh filled the kitchen. "You're a sweet one. Now, you give me a head start. I want an uninterrupted view of his face when you make your entrance."
"He's here?" Beth clenched her hands to keep from rubbing her palms against her dress.
"Yup. Give me ten seconds, then come on out." Marianne paused at the door. "And Beth? Have fun tonight, sweetie."
Ten seconds. Ten seconds separated her from the first date she'd had in three years.
God, what am I thinking?
Chicken shit. The words crossed her thoughts, but the voice was all Rachel. Dammit. Somewhere, Rachel was utterly amused that she was the voice in her head. Beth took a deep breath and walked toward the door.
Chicken shit, my ass.
"She's coming, honey," Marianne said as she cruised back into the café.
"Thanks." Restless, Braden propped his left arm on the bar and stuck his right hand in his pocket. When no one emerged, he glanced to where Marianne was still hovering.
"You sure she's not sneaking out the..." The soft click of heels against wood heralded Beth's arrival. His chest tightened and his breathing stalled.
She wore a deep blue dress that hugged her frame and swirled like the tide around her legs as she walked into the café wearing shoes designed to drive a man crazy---tall heels with little strappy things that tied around her ankles and extended her toned legs into impossibly long planes of silk. It required a conscious effort to drag his gaze back up, only to discover that the rest of the picture was every bit as enthralling.
She'd pulled her hair back, a curly mass loosely pinned to the nape of her neck. Though he'd wondered more than once what it would feel like to run his hands through the long lengths, he found this style held a certain appeal. How long would it take for her hair to tumble around her shoulders if he pulled out every pin, one by one, replacing each with a kiss to her exposed throat?
Everything about her captivated his imagination, but her eyes snared his attention. She'd done something to them, something that brought out the cobalt hue. When he finally recovered enough to smile in greeting, her eyes were the first to respond, crinkling at the edges as a warm welcome bloomed across her face.
"Hi." Hardly smooth, but the best he could do until blood rushed back to his brain.
"Hi." She said, pulling her wrap over her shoulders.
"Ready to go?"
"Sure. You said the restaurant's close, right?"
"Two blocks. It's nice outside, but if you'd rather drive, I can pull the car around."
"Walking sounds good."
"Goodnight, Marianne." Braden smiled over his shoulder and slid an arm around Beth's waist as they moved toward the door. It was a nice evening to walk, the warmth and humidity of the afternoon lingered, but a pleasant breeze blowing in from the west made it a comfortable evening to be out.
"The weather today was perfect. Did you get a chance to enjoy it?" Braden cringed.
The weather? Lame. Very lame.
"Not directly, I had to work for most of it, but the customers brought the atmosphere in with them." Her amusement was clear in her tone. "What about you?"
She pressed closer to his side to avoid bumping into another pedestrian. The warmth of her seared straight through him, scattering his thoughts. "What?"
"Did you enjoy the day?"
"Oh. No, not really, my brother's in town." Braden maneuvered them off to the side and under a rich expanse of maroon awning.
Glancing around in confusion, Beth asked, "Is everything alright?"
"I'm sorry."
Her shoulders tightened and she opened her mouth to speak, but he slipped an arm around her waist and pressed her against the rough brick of the storefront behind her. His slid a hand carefully along her jaw, letting it rest against the nape of her neck. Her breath hitched, as he pressed his lips to hers in a caress that began as a warm and gentle greeting and accelerated into a promise of things to come.
Finally, when reason prevailed over greed, Braden forced himself to step back and suck air into his lungs. She'd been beautiful in the moment before he'd kissed her, and beautifully responsive as he had. But neither compared to the picture she presented now. The faintest flush warmed her cheeks and her pupils had expanded to swallow all but the thinnest halo of blue. Her hands must have come up at some point to grasp his arms because she still had a viselike grip on his jacket. He leaned his forehead down to rest against hers, breathing in the scent of her one more time before he stepped back, out of temptation's grasp.
"Sorry. I couldn't seem to think." He smiled when she blinked twice before focusing on his face.
"Huh?"
"I just thought I'd get it out of the way." He admired the way her blush deepened as awareness returned to her eyes. "This way I won't be wondering what it feels like to kiss you the rest of the night."
"Did it work?" A small smile graced her face.
"Yeah." He settled his arm around her shoulders and led her to the door of the restaurant. "But now I'll be looking forward to doing it again."
The restaurant was both warm and opulent. Thick carpet ran from wall to wall, an intricate sage design sprawling like vines across the cream surface. Two-story windows glinted gold in the setting sun along the wall facing the street. Rich draperies of dark blue cascaded down the windows, tied back with heavy silk cords. The atmosphere was so rich and elegant that Beth struggled to keep from fidgeting. How was it that she was standing in such a beautiful place, on the arm of such an attractive man?
And he was attractive. Dressed nicely in a soft, chocolate brown sports coat, neatly pressed slacks, starched white shirt and a forest green tie, he was an ad executive's dream. The picture of casual sophistication---broad shoulders, tapered waist and a tan combined to present an image that stated he was right at home sailing, hiking or trail running. Self-conscious awareness prickled across her skin, even as a powerful thrill, entirely feminine, raced through her. For tonight, his attention seemed focused exclusively on her.
As they followed the hostess through the restaurant, Beth tried to soak in every visual detail. Square tables covered the floor of the main dining room, each one dressed with perfectly pressed white linens and a small vase of fresh flowers. Chandeliers bathed the dining room with a warm, low light that set the silver gleaming. They wound their way toward the back of the restaurant and along the far wall, stopping at a small square table near the corner. Before she could pull out her chair, Braden's hand covered hers, gently maneuvering her aside to pull out the chair for her, before taking his own.
"Your server should be with you shortly. Enjoy your evening." Beth barely noticed as their hostess retreated, too caught up in the splendor of the evening.
"I love the atmosphere here and their steaks are amazing," Braden said.
A waiter stopped at their table, snapping starched white napkins open and placing them in their laps.
"It's beautiful, but I wasn't expecting something so extravagant." Beth placed her hands in her lap to keep from toying with the silverware. "I would have been happy with one of the chain restaurants."
Braden grinned, though whether it was at her, or at the waiter's scandalized expression, she wasn't sure.
"Good evening, my name is Carlos. I'll be your sommelier this evening. May I get you started with something to drink, a bottle of wine perhaps?"
"Do you have a preference?" Braden asked Beth.
"What?" It took her a moment to catch his meaning. "Oh, no. A red, I guess?" Red went with steak, right? God, could she feel like a bigger idiot? Somewhere between the potency of Braden's kiss and the elegance of the steak house, she felt as if she'd stepped into another reality.
Beth forced herself to take a couple of bracing breaths while Braden and the sommelier discussed the available wines. She was determined to get her nerves under control and enjoy the evening. One way or another.
An hour and a half later, warmth infused Beth's face and her cheeks ached from a wine-induced smile. She didn't care. They'd torn their way through half a bottle of wine before the food started to arrive. The relaxed state she'd failed to achieve on her own had been readily supplied by the wine. By the time appetizers arrived, they'd been actively engaged in conversation.
"Might I interest you in a dessert menu?" The waiter offered.
"What do you think?" Braden glanced at her from across the table. "Did you save room for dessert."
"Absolutely not." And wasn't that the truth? She was one bite away from having to be rolled out the door.
"Are you certain? We have an amazing bananas Foster and a fabulous six-layer chocolate mousse cake garnished with a delicate raspberry sauce."
"The chocolate cake here is really good." Braden's grin was wicked and Beth couldn't help but laugh. How many times had she smiled and laughed during the meal? More than she could have believed possible.
"Maybe next time."
"Very well," The waiter pulled a black bill holder out of his apron and placed it in front of Braden. "Whenever you're ready, sir."
After they'd settled the check, they made their way to the front of the restaurant.
"Did you park at Angie's?" Braden held the door for her as they moved out of the restaurant.
"No. I'm at one of the public lots a few blocks over." A wall of cool night air hit her as she exited the warmth of the restaurant. The sidewalk did a quick roll in front of her, confirming she'd had a little more wine than intended.
"Then I'll walk you back to your car, if you're sure I can't talk you into coffee and dessert?" Braden slipped his arm around her waist as they moved onto the sidewalk and up the road. The warm afternoon breeze had developed into a light wind that swirled around the street and carried the scent of another spring storm blowing in off the Pacific.
"I don't think I could eat anything else tonight. But walking for a while might be a good idea," she said, the cool air cleansing her wine-fogged brain.
"Okay." When she shivered a little in the breeze, Braden pulled her under his arm. "Do you have family out here?"
"No, I'm originally from the Boston area," Beth answered, hoping to stick to easy topics.
"Do you get back often?"
"Not anymore."
"That's too bad. You must get homesick."
Caution flared to life. She should have expected this. Dinner had been fun and engaging, and she'd managed to steer Braden into talking about himself---where he went to school, how he'd ended up in the family business. Every time he'd echoed her questions, she'd tried for vague or boring answers and then turned the conversation back to him. Most guys would have basked in the opportunity to focus the conversation on their interests and accomplishments. It both annoyed and impressed her that he seemed genuinely interested in hers.
"Not as much anymore. Portland's becoming more like home all the time."
"Your family must miss you."
Beth sighed, but couldn't fault his curiosity. Maybe a blunt approach would work. "My mother died several years ago. It was just me and her, so, well..."
Braden paused, clearly taken aback by the confession. "I'm sorry." Though she suspected he wanted to, he didn't push. Damned if it wasn't endearing.
"It's alright."
They walked in silence for a few minutes, crossing the street and leaving the warm glow cast by the restaurants and shops behind for the muted lighting of the office district.
"We didn't really get around to talking much about what you've done over the last several years, something tells me you weren't always working in coffee shops."
"No. That's a more recent development."
"So, what were you doing before? I'm dying of curiosity here." When she paused, Braden pushed. "Alright, I'll guess." He furrowed his brow, as though giving it careful consideration, then said, "You were a Las Vegas showgirl."
"God, no." Beth choked on a laugh. "Stage fright."
"You ran a scuba shop in Cozumel."
"I'm a terrible swimmer."
"You weren't a yoga teacher, were you?" Braden gave her a playful leer, "'Cause while I'm down with flexibility, I'm not sure I can deal with chanting and the scent of patchouli."
"Yoga enthusiasts everywhere are offended by your terrible generalizations. But no."
"So does that mean you aren't flexible?"
A pointy elbow to the ribs was the only response she gave.
"Peace Corps?"
"Definitely not that noble. I like my modern amenities."
"Oh, oh, I know. You could tell me, but then you'd have to kill me, right? Please tell me you know thirty different ways to kill a man with your bare hands..."
Beth snorted at his ridiculousness.
"What? Female spies are sexy."
"Sorry to disappoint. I don't know thirty ways to kill a man with my bare hands."
"Damn. So no skintight catsuit either, huh?"
She laughed, full and delighted. "Where do you come up with this stuff?"
"Hey, a man's imagination is a dangerous place. Care to rescue me?"
"I was in college."
"College, huh? Let me guess, underwater basket weaving?"
"Architecture." Surprise stole across his face. "With a minor in mayhem and destruction."
"Really?"
"No. I minored in photography."
"An architect and a photographer." He inspected her closely, as though seeing an entirely new side of her.
"You sound disappointed. But, then, I guess it isn't as exciting as a female spy."
"I'm intrigued. Why aren't you in some office somewhere, designing suburban America?"
Beth shrugged. What could she say to that? She didn't want to lie and she didn't want to leave the question between them. Whether it was pride or the desire to share something with him, she wasn't quite sure. "I'd planned on continuing school, getting my master's. I never thought I'd end up taking time off, working odd jobs." Beth took a moment and collected her thoughts. "Some days it still surprises me, but I didn't see a lot of things coming and after..." Oh, God, she wasn't sure she could say it. "After..."
His hand, warm and steady, squeezed her shoulder. "I can't imagine how hard it must have been when your mom died. That kind of loss would derail anyone's plans."
Beth glanced up, surprised at the gentle concern in his expression. Even if his assumptions weren't exactly accurate, they were close enough. It was easy to reach up and press the hand he had draped around her shoulders. "Thank you."
Silence fell between them and though she knew he would drop the conversation, Beth found, much to her surprise, that she wasn't ready. "A lot of people didn't understand why I just couldn't go ahead with my plans. But I just..." She blew out a frustrated breath.
"Couldn't go forward as though your world hadn't completely shifted?" They rounded the corner and entered the parking lot, Beth's Jeep the only car left.
"Yeah. It just felt wrong. Like that future wasn't there anymore." She shrugged a little. "That must sound ridiculous."
"Not at all. Losing your mom was a major change in your life, it would take a pretty cold person to move forward as though it hadn't happened."
"I guess. I think I needed a little time to adjust, to figure things out. I've been pretty restless since. Moved around, took a few different types of jobs. Just recently I've started thinking about staying in one place, maybe going back to school." She stopped next to her Jeep, pulling her keys out of her purse. "Small steps, I guess."
"You'll figure it out." His fingertips brushed her cheek as he pushed an escaping tendril of hair behind her ear. "No matter the circumstances, I'm glad you're here."
She seized a moment of bravery and allowed her hand to curl around the soft silk of his tie and pull him closer, pressing her mouth against his. His lips were warm and pliant against hers, but the way he held himself perfectly still broadcasted his surprise. Beth eased down off her toes and let the cool silk slip through her fingers, ending the kiss on a soft sigh. "Thanks."
His brow settled into a line of confusion and it took a moment for his gaze to focus on her face again. "What for?"
Beth let a little shrug escape her. "Tonight. Listening."
"Uh-huh." His warm hands slid around her, one settling at the hollow of her back and the other sliding up, a warm caress against the thin material of her dress. "I've wanted to do this again all night." His lips, still stretched in a smile, found hers. Beth tilted her head, letting her arms settle around his neck, one hand threading through the thick hair just above his collar. That small action snapped his restraint; warm and gentle slipped quickly into hot and consuming. It was the sort of kiss that simultaneously managed to fire every nerve in her body and completely fade the rest of the world away, leaving her senses to focus exclusively on the long, male body, warm and solid against hers.
Everywhere they touched left a focused impression of heat. She was intensely aware of his hands, they way the left one warmed her skin at the small of her back and the way the right one tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck. She was excruciatingly self-conscious of the way her breasts pressed flush against the smooth planes of his chest, aching with arousal. The cool night air that rushed between them when he finally pulled back was shocking and very unwelcome. But it was enough to make her realize that she was out of breath and could hear the blood rushing in her ears.
"Come home with me." He kept his face close to hers, his breath ghosting across her swollen lips, but the hand on her back slid away, pressing against the door of the Jeep. "Come home with me, Beth."
Air rushed into her lungs and back to her brain, restoring reason. Beth shook her head. "I'm not... I don't..." She wasn't the type of woman to take a lover lightly, and never on a first date, but for the briefest moment she considered it.
"I'm not ready."
"Any more ready and we'd combust." Something in her expression must have conveyed that her mind was set because he sighed, placed a final, brief kiss on her lips and took a strained step back. "I had to ask. At least now I know it'll be on your mind."
Oh, it'll be on my mind. Probably to the point of distraction.
"At least say you'll have dinner with me tomorrow, we'll do something casual, maybe catch a movie."
"Okay."
"That's it, just okay? I don't have to harass you into it this time?"
"Not this time." A small smile played across her face.
"I guess I'll have to kiss you more often, especially if it's going to make you more accommodating." He smiled and bent his head. "Maybe I should try it again and see if I can't change your mind about tonight..."
Beth laughed as she dodged to the right. "Such an ego. I'll see you tomorrow." She unlocked the car, but Braden pulled the door open before she got the chance.
"I'll call you when I'm done with work, probably around six, if that works."
"Sure." She tossed her purse on the passenger seat and clicked her seat belt in place. "We can meet at Angie's." When she turned the ignition, Braden leaned up, placed a quick kiss on her cheek then closed the door. Beth rolled down her window as she put the Jeep in reverse, "Do you need a lift to your car?"
"Nah, I'm close. Good night, Beth."
"Good night."
Palms damp against the steering wheel and nerves still singing she curb checked as she pulled out of the parking lot. She was certain she saw Braden laughing in her rearview mirror when she curb checked pulling onto the street.
\*\*\*
A distant peal of thunder resonated up the street. Where the fuck was she? Markko pushed smoke through his nostrils and tossed the butt of his cigarette to the ground where it joined a dozen others. He'd tracked the Williams bitch to where she worked downtown and located her car in one of the few public lots close to her job. He'd toyed with the idea of going into the café to see if this was the right woman or not, but the last thing he wanted was an open confrontation. If this was the bitch he was looking for, he didn't want to confront her in a coffee shop in the middle of the afternoon. No. They were going to play this game on his terms, on his schedule. He'd expose himself when she would be alone and vulnerable, and when she would feel the most violated.
Instead, he'd retreated to her car, found a sheltered vantage point and waited. For hours. At this point, he didn't care if this was the woman he was looking for. He was considering killing her for the inconvenience. And if it actually started to rain before she got here? Well then he'd just have to kill her slowly.
A few minutes later, a man and a woman rounded the corner and started up the long street toward the parking lot. Wind heralding the incoming storm rushed past them, catching the woman's skirt and making her shiver. Markko pressed closer to the alley's opening. They were still too far away to be sure, but the woman was the right build, tall and slender, with the same brown hair he remembered from years ago. But she had her head tilted toward the man she was with, her face hidden from view.
Cursing, Markko shifted farther forward, careful to remain out of the glow of the streetlamp. The pair walked into the deserted parking lot, backs to him, completely unaware of their audience. He continued to observe them while they stood outside of the Jeep, going through the motions of an awkward good-night.
"Come on, come on. Fucking kiss her and get the hell out of my way." The parking lot's lights spilled across the pavement where the Jeep was parked, but the guy stood directly in Markko's line of sight. If he'd step to the side Markko could get a look at the woman's face.
Finally, the prick found his balls and pushed the woman up against the car. Just as he thought the guy was going to grab her under her armpits and fuck her against the Jeep, he pulled back. Markko couldn't hear what they were saying from across the street but the body language rang loud and clear. The fucking tease was saying no, and damned if that pussy didn't pull back. Markko snorted to himself. If the prick didn't have the balls to take what he wanted, especially when the woman was so clearly toying with him, then he deserved to spend the night with his fist.
Finally, the woman got in her car and pulled out of the parking lot, giving Markko an unobstructed view of her face as she pulled out onto the street.
Old anger ignited within him, pumping adrenaline through his veins and raising the hair on his arms.
Hello, Lizzy.
Finally, he could move forward. He'd come back tomorrow, follow her home and figure out how he wanted to play this out. It would take a few days to make arrangements to get her out of the country or find a suitable location nearby. But one thing was certain, given a week, two at the most, and he'd snare his prey. She'd squeal like a pinned rabbit as he tore apart her existence, piece by piece.
Markko turned down the alley, thoughts consumed with plans and anticipation. The moment his back was to the parking lot, awareness shot up his spine, resting heavily against the back of his skull, raising the hair along his neck. Slowly, he turned back toward the parking lot, instinct driving him to caution. His eyes locked on the man walking out of the parking lot.
The guy came to an abrupt halt, head snapping toward Markko's position, eyes peering into the darkness. Though his expression remained calm and curious, his stance went wide and his shoulders squared, warrior-ready.
"Fuck," Markko snarled, pulling himself as far as he could into the shadow of the building behind him, carefully retreating to the next street over.
Edwards. That bitch was spreading her legs for Edwards, probably in exchange for protection.
Rage coiled down his spine, seizing his muscles. The stench of the alley filled his nostrils and coated his tongue. His fingers curled reflexively, tendons pulling taut to prepare for paws instead of hands. His teeth elongated in his still human mouth, slicing into his tongue. The metallic tang of his own blood narrowly kept him from shifting on the spot.
He slammed his fists into the brick wall to his right, the pain radiating from his knuckles up through his arms fighting back the rage and adrenaline. Keeping the change in check.
Son of a bitch.
He spat the blood pooling in his mouth.
Abducting and killing the woman was supposed to be simple. Easy. Fun.
Taking her from Edwards would be an open challenge. A declaration of war.
His wolf snarled and paced at the front of his mind. Primed for the hunt, lusting for the kill. Edwards' bitch or not, he wouldn't forsake his vengeance.
She had to pay. He hadn't left his pack and defied his father to walk away now. Edwards was little more than a complication. An irritant to be dealt with.
Or used.
His anger settled, low and tight in his gut. Present but contained. The haze of red clouding his mind and exciting his wolf cleared enough for the first vague notions of a plan to take hold.
The Edwardses are nothing if not predictable.
He'd have to move cautiously. Determine the exact relationship between Edwards and the woman. Their involvement complicated but ultimately didn't change things. If anything, it sweetened the pay off.
The bitch would die. Perhaps not as slowly as he'd planned; timing would be crucial. But pain---applied correctly---could stretch minutes to hours. Hours to lifetimes. She'd beg for death before he was through. And after he finished? Well, Edwards could have her back.
Piece by piece.
And if her death brings war to my father's doorstep? All the better. He'll face the Edwards clan head-on---and expose his vulnerable back.
Braden pulled a beer out of the fridge, popped the top off on the counter and closed the door on a long and unproductive day. Hell, if he were honest with himself, he hadn't been productive in more than a week. Every time he found a good working flow, something would remind him of Beth. The way she smelled, the way her skin felt beneath his fingertips, the way her breath caressed his face after they kissed. She was driving him crazy. Worse, he knew it showed. Even his secretary had noticed something was off.
I need to get my head on straight.
"You gonna drink that or just keep rolling it between your palms?"
"When did you get here?" Braden glanced around Caleb. "And where's Chase?"
"On the phone. You were sound asleep on the couch when Chase and I came in last night. Still haven't gotten lucky, huh? How long's it been? A week, two?" Caleb smiled maliciously. "Losing your touch?"
"Shut up." Braden pushed Caleb away as his brother made a grab for the beer. "Get your own."
"Ah, don't worry, everyone strikes out every now and then." Caleb's expression turned wicked. "Besides, the way I hear it you get the occasional, shall we say, exotic offer."
Braden choked on his beer. "Chase! You little shit!"
"No need to be embarrassed." Caleb moved around him to retrieve another beer from the fridge. "The way Chase tells it, he---I mean she---was quite the looker. Long, powerful legs, short skirt, killer heels..."
"Caleb." Braden set his beer down on the counter.
"Shut up?" Caleb asked with a smile.
"Yeah." Braden cracked his knuckles.
"Alright, alright. Out of brotherly respect I'll drop it."
Chase came in and dropped into the black leather club chair across from Braden. "We need to talk."
"Fuck, what now?" Braden asked.
"Jason just reported in."
"And?" Braden leaned forward, lines creasing his forehead.
"He's been tailing Markko off and on for over a week now. He's a slippery bastard." Chase frowned and glanced out the window; Braden knew he was itching to get out and start looking for Markko.
"Don't even think about it."
"You can't keep me here forever." Chase snapped his head up, fury tightening his expression.
"A week or two isn't going to kill you."
Caleb made a frustrated noise. "Enough. Chase, stop acting like a child. Braden, stop acting like his mother. What's the bad news?"
Chase ran his hands through his hair. "He's been following you some, Braden. He's also been to Angie's."
"Fuck."
"It gets better." Chase stared steadily at Braden. "We think he may be following that girl."
"What girl?" A tendril of unease unfurled in Braden's mind, sliding down his spine like water down an icicle.
"The one you've been seeing." Chase released a strangled breath, as if he anticipated an explosion any second.
"Just what the hell are you saying?"
"Just that he seems very interested in her."
"And what?" Braden forcibly uncurled his fists and stretched his fingers. "And what else, Chase?"
"Look, we know he's been following you, usually when you're with her," Chase said, his voice flat.
"Since when?" Anger exploded through Braden. How long had Markko been following them, following Beth?
"Since the first night you went out."
"Why the fuck didn't you say something sooner?" Braden hissed.
"Because we don't know what he wants. Or why he's here. He keeps switching motels, slipping the people assigned to him. But we know he's been watching the two of you when you're together. I felt it was worth waiting to see if he tipped his hand," Chase said, the words carefully measured.
"Jesus, Chase. Bad enough he's been following me. I can take care of myself. But how many times has he been to Angie's? Or followed Beth when I wasn't around? He's dangerous." Braden growled, shoving his fingers through his hair in an effort not to throttle his brother.
"Look, he hasn't been back to Angie's since the first night you went out with the woman. From what Jason said he didn't stay long and he didn't go in. After that he walked a couple blocks, waited around in an alley for a couple hours."
"Waited for what, exactly?" Braden asked, fury burning away the rest of his unease.
"Mostly he just stood there smoking. Left a pile of cigarette butts in the alley. After you said good-night to your date in the parking lot, he left."
"But what the fuck was Markko doing there in the first place?" A slick wave of dread consumed him---Markko had obviously witnessed the kiss he'd shared with Beth. Would he consider her leverage in whatever game he was playing?
"We don't know yet." Chase exploded out of his chair and strode to the window. "His behavior is completely atypical for what we know about him. He's alone. He's exercising patience. This guy is dangerous, but if we take him out now, we'll never know what his endgame is. Or what relationship he has with a woman that's suddenly become a fixture in your life," Chase added.
"Just what are you implying?"
"Just that he wasn't standing outside your loft or your parking garage." Chase leaned against the wall, his expression guarded.
"So? Maybe he didn't know where to look," Caleb interjected.
"Could be." Chase shrugged, "Or he might not have been waiting for Braden, at all."
"That's ridiculous." Braden took his empty beer bottle to the kitchen. "That lot is the closest public parking to Angie's. He could have guessed that I'd parked there, especially if he knew I'd been to Angie's earlier that day."
"Maybe." Chase's surly silence filled the room.
"But what?" Braden snapped.
"It's a little convenient." Chase pushed away from the wall and settled into a jerky pace. "Markko shows up and suddenly, out of nowhere, a woman he's clearly interested in seduces you?"
Braden slammed the lid of the trashcan. "For the love of... Beth is hardly in league with Markko!"
"You can't know that!" Chase vibrated with anger. "You've only just met her!"
"Enough," Caleb interceded.
Braden forced his jaw shut.
Of all the ridiculous ideas.
"Look, as usual, Chase is being cautious."
"Paranoid is more like it."
"Shut up," Caleb snapped. "Look, Chase, you're probably overreacting. It's a stretch to think this woman is involved. I'm sure there's another explanation." Braden opened his mouth, but Caleb cut him off. "Don't. He has a point. How much do you know about her?"
"Enough." His voice came out rough and far more possessive than he intended, and neither of his brothers failed to notice.
"Alright, alright. We get it. You Tarzan, she Jane. But while you're busy dragging her back to your place, could you exercise a little caution? It'll hardly kill you."
"In the meantime, Chase is right. It's dangerous to take out Markko when we don't know what, if any, connection he has with this girl. If there's even the slightest chance that she's a threat to the family, we need to know."
Not sure what irritated him more, his brothers or the fact that he felt so protective of a woman he barely knew, Braden sighed and conceded. "Fine, whatever." He strode out of the kitchen, "I'm grabbing a shower and going out."
If he hurried, he could probably catch Beth at the end of her shift. Whether to spite his brothers or ease his own mind he wasn't sure, but he needed to see her.
\*\*\*
Beth jumped then smiled when arms slid around her waist and lips brushed a kiss against her neck. She finished ladling the soup into a large mug for herself, then turned in Braden's arms.
"What are you doing here? I didn't expect to see you tonight." Braden plucked the mug from her fingers, set it on the counter and swept her into a possessive kiss. When he finally released her, Beth was flushed and breathless.
"Wow. That was hot!"
Beth groaned when she saw Marianne standing in the doorway.
"Don't mind me, don't mind me." Marianne grabbed the bus bin by the sink. "Pretend I'm not even here." She winked and backed out into the main part of the café.
Ten seconds of complete silence passed between them before they both broke out in laughter. "Why do I suddenly feel like I'm sixteen again?" Braden asked.
"Get caught making out in Angie's kitchen a lot as a teenager?" Beth tried to glare, but felt the corners of her lips pulling up against her will.
"Nah. Just once." Braden grimaced. "Angie caught me. I found better places after that."
"I've no doubt. What are you doing here? I didn't think I'd be seeing you until tomorrow." Beth dodged as Braden leaned in to kiss her again.
"I decided I couldn't wait." He ghosted a hand down her arm, the touch as familiar and intimate as his kiss. "Are you off soon?"
"Now, as a matter of fact. A little early, but Marianne said she could close up---it's been slow tonight. Are you hungry?"
"Always." Braden whispered as he leaned back in, catching Beth for another kiss.
"Cut it out." She laughed and pulled away. "I meant food. I'm going to grab a leftover sandwich and some soup. Would you like some?"
"I've got a better idea." Braden said, trailing distracted fingers down her arm. "Come over to my place tonight. I'll cook."
"You cook?" She asked, unable to mask her disbelief.
"I'm killer with cereal and peanut butter sandwiches," he offered. "I also make a mean spaghetti carbonara."
"You don't have to."
"I want to." Something intense settled in his expression, he stepped closer, his hands running the lengths of her arms, his touch as possessive as if he'd gripped her.
Anticipation raced across her skin, tightening her nipples as heat pooled low in her gut.
"Okay," she answered, surprised by her own excitement. "Can you give me directions?"
"You can follow me," he said, stepping away from her. "I'm parked right next to you."
An hour and a half later, Beth placed their dinner plates in the sink. A hand closed over hers when she reached for the tap.
"You don't have to do that," Braden whispered, letting his lips brush against her ear.
"Force of habit." She turned in the circle of his arms and leaned against the counter. For a moment, hunger dominated his face and seized her breath.
He put a hand on the counter behind her, leaned in and trailed his lips along her jaw, nipping and nuzzling until he reached her ear. "You smell so good."
"Liar." She laughed breathlessly. "I smell like espresso beans." She wrinkled her nose---no matter what she did, when she left work, she smelled like coffee.
"I always like the way you smell." He placed an open-mouth kiss against the side of her neck, his tongue raising goose bumps and sending shivers down her spine. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt as he reached up and pulled her hair free of the tie holding it away from her face. Before it could swing forward, he plowed both hands into the wavy curls, tilted her head and plundered her mouth.
She arched into him, tasting red wine and a barely contained urge she couldn't name but understood all too well. She wrapped an arm around his waist and threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, her heart slamming against her ribs. She pushed to her toes, brushing her sensitive breasts along the flat plane of his chest, and deepened the kiss.
Whatever restraint he had broke under the force of her response. He pulled her around, backing her out of the kitchen as his tongue danced and stroked against her own. Her back hit a wall, forcing a surprised gasp from her throat that he swallowed as he slid his hands out of her hair, one wrapping around her waist, the other bracing against the wall.
Beth locked a leg around the back of his knee and pulled him closer, pressing them chest to chest and need to need. He rocked forward, sending sparks of undiluted pleasure spiraling through her. He slipped an arm around the thigh she had locked around his leg and hoisted her up until she could wrap both legs around his waist. She locked her hands around his neck and tilted her chin, her fingernails raking through his hair as he pulled his stubbled jaw across the delicate skin of her throat, then soothed it with heavy, tongue-laden kisses.
He carried her down the hallway and through a door into darkness. She clenched her thighs around him reflexively as she went into free fall, bouncing a split second later against the soft surface of a mattress. He pulled forcibly away from her, panting in the darkness.
"I have to..." He reached for something and a soft glow from the bedside lamp filled the room. "I want to see you."
He knelt between her knees, his eyes raking over her. She let him pull her up, his hands sliding beneath her shirt, lifting it and her bra, over her head in one smooth motion. He ran a possessive hand over her hips, eliciting shivers as his palm splayed over her breast, his thumb and forefinger rolling the nipple he found.
It was all she could do to kick off her shoes and reach for the buttons of his shirt. When her fingers slipped and fumbled, he pulled the shirt swiftly over his head and reared back long enough to yank his jeans and boxers down his legs. Before she could look her fill, he dove for her, depositing wet kisses along her collarbone.
Hands and fingers attacked her jeans until they were a discarded puddle on the floor. His teeth grazed a nipple at the same time skillful fingers slid beneath her underwear and into the damp folds at the center of a need so consuming it burned through her with the intensity of a firestorm.
She pulled a knee up and open, even as she restlessly rubbed her other leg against him, beckoning him closer.
He answered her plea with tongue and lips that moved along the flat plane of her stomach. He pulled the last scrap of fabric that separated them away with a violent tug and pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh. The first touch of his tongue against her stole a cry from her throat and wrenched her first climax from her. Her entire body seized against his.
He didn't let her catch her breath. He sheathed himself with a condom from the nightstand, grasped her thighs with clenching fingers and entered her with one dizzying stroke. Her heart pounded in her ears as she felt his pulse pound within her before he withdrew in an agonizingly slow stroke, then plunged back in.
They built a rhythm, a frenzied pace that left them both gasping. The sweat of their bodies glazed their skin and slicked their movements. His hands caught hers; he linked their fingers together and pressed the back of her palms to the bed above her head.
She lifted her chin and caught his mouth, their tongues dancing parallel to the rest of them. When his breath came faster and faster, and the weight of him pressed heavier and thicker within her, she jerked her mouth away and scraped her teeth across the skin of his shoulder. He cried out, his entire body shaking with the force of his release, rushing her headlong into a second climax so strong, so stunning her entire body clenched and shuddered around him.
Slowly, her senses began to filter back to her. She tasted the salt of his skin against her tongue and heard their combined breath flooding the room. It took her two tries to get her muscles to uncoil enough to pull her legs down from where they wrapped around his waist. She settled for entwining them with his, not yet ready to allow him to retreat.
Braden shifted and withdrew but pulled her against him as he rolled to his side so they were pressed chest to chest, their legs still locked together. He pulled his hand through her hair and along her spine as he studied her face.
"Christ," he said, his words thick and unsteady. With each passing second, he seemed to come back to himself, the possessive grip on her butt loosened, and the heavy slide of his hand against her back became a gentle caress. "I...God, are you alright?"
Beth smiled and nodded into the crook of his neck and let her eyes fall shut. Her hand splayed over his chest, absorbing the steady thump-thump of his heart. "Perfect."
\*\*\*
The cell phone vibrating on his nightstand woke Braden out of a satiated sleep. What time was it? He flung his arm toward the nightstand, Beth's warm weight pinning him to the bed. She slept deeply, her head resting against his arm, her hair falling down her shoulders like curling lengths of silk. Sometime during the night, the sheet had slid down her back and now rested at the top of the curve of her ass. Phone forgotten, Braden gently shifted out from beneath her and allowed his fingers to skim along the length of her spine. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder and pulled her closer, pressing his leg between hers, burrowing his face against her neck. The moment his eyes began to droop, the text message indicator on his phone sounded.
Braden muttered under his breath as he carefully extricated himself from Beth and the warmth of his bed. He reached for his phone and opened the new message.
We need to talk. Call me. Chase
Braden toggled through the missed call logs. Chase had called. Twice. At 4:30 in the morning.
"Fuck." Braden rose, pulled on his boxers and stepped into the hallway, softly closing the door as he dialed Chase.
Chase picked up on the first ring. "Good. You're awake."
"I am now. This better be important, Chase. It's 4:30 in the damn morning." Braden leaned irritably against the kitchen counter, "You get hit by another Cutlass?"
"No." An awkward silence filled the line.
Braden sighed. "What's wrong, and where are you?"
"Out." Chase paused. "We need to talk."
"And this couldn't wait until morning?" Braden grumbled, pulling the carton of orange juice out of the fridge.
"You need to know who's sleeping in your bed."
"Oh, for the love of God, not this again." It took a moment for the rest of Chase's implication to sink in. "How did you know Beth was here tonight?"
Silence filled the line again, then Chase said, "I stopped by earlier."
"Whatever." Braden took a long swig from the orange juice container, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Angie telling him to get a damned glass. "You're off base here, Chase. She's got nothing to do with Markko."
"You don't know her," Chase retorted. "She's setting you up."
"That's ridiculous." Braden worked to keep his temper from boiling over. "We don't even know what Markko's doing here. So he's followed me around. To then assume he's somehow involved with Beth is premature."
"Jason's dead."
Anger morphed to dread. "When?"
"Tonight. I found him in an alley about an hour ago; his throat slit."
"Shit." Braden rubbed hand across his face. "You think Markko's responsible?"
"It makes sense." Chase's steady breathing came through over the line, a sure sign he was trying to control his temper.
"I'm sorry, Chase. I know you were friends."
"We worked together. He was good at what he did."
Braden let Chase's casual dismissal slide. His brother had been friends with Jason for nearly ten years. No matter what he said, Braden knew Jason's death would tear Chase apart. He also understood that Chase would refuse to talk about it.
"I don't understand how this ties in to Beth."
"Jason died in the alley across the street from where she parks her car. The same alley Markko was in that first night," Chase continued in a harsh tone. "Whether you like it or not, Markko and that woman are connected."
"Her name is Beth, Chase. Would it kill you to say it?"
"Are you sure about that?"
"About her name?" Braden slammed the orange juice onto the counter, sloshing some out onto the granite. "You can't be serious."
"I've got someone checking into her, and so far, they're having trouble finding anything."
"Maybe that's because there's nothing to find," Braden ground out.
"Look, you may think I'm being paranoid, but better paranoid than stupid. They are connected. We need to figure out how, before someone else dies."
"And just how do you propose we do that?" Braden snorted. He could only imagine how Beth would react to So, there's a homicidal asshole following us around. Any idea what he wants?
"She working tomorrow?"
"Yeah. The morning shift."
"Then meet me at her place. We'll sniff around. We'll know if Markko's been there."
"I haven't been to her place. How do you propose we find it?"
"I've got the address."
"Do I even want to know how you managed that?"
"She had to list her address on her employment records."
The blood drained from Braden's face. "Please tell me you didn't break into Angie's records, Chase." Angie would go ballistic if she ever found out.
"Fine. I didn't break into Angie's employment records."
Braden sensed the quiet amusement in Chase's voice. He'd never been appropriately afraid of Angie. "Shit. You better have put everything back exactly the way you found it." Angie would notice if anything in her office above the café was out of place. God help them if she ever realized they were responsible.
"She'll never know the difference. What time is Beth leaving in the morning?"
Braden didn't like the way Chase sneered Beth's name, as though it were something foul, but he let it go. He'd deal with it tomorrow, after Chase was confronted with the reality that Beth had nothing to do with Markko.
"I don't know. I'll call you when she leaves."
"Fine."
Braden shoved the carton of orange juice back in the fridge. "Has Jason been taken care of?"
"I handled it." Chase's voice was quiet, and Braden wondered exactly how he'd handled it.
"Chase..."
Chase cut him off. "Call me in the morning."
The line went dead before Braden could say anything else. Tossing the phone on the counter, he flipped the lights off in the kitchen and made his way down the dark hallway, quietly pushing open the door to his bedroom.
Soft light from the balcony spilled onto the empty bed, revealing twisted sheets spilling over the side of the mattress.
He glanced toward the bathroom, the door hung open and the lights were off. As he turned to head back into the hallway, a shadow of movement on the balcony caught his attention.
Braden stepped through the open door, the fresh scent of impending rain heavy on the night air.
His breath caught in his throat when his eyes landed on Beth. She stood at the railing, eyes closed and head tilted toward the sky, the wind caressing her face and fondling her hair. Barefoot and in nothing but the shirt he'd worn last night, the soft glow of the street lights illuminated her silhouette beneath the thin fabric. A spark of awareness touched her, and she glanced over her shoulder, her dark blue eyes capturing him.
"Sorry." She pulled at the hem of his shirt. "I woke up and you were gone. I just needed a little fresh air."
When Braden couldn't make his tongue wrap around words, she continued, "The view is incredible."
"Yes, it is." The wind caught her hair and lightning flashed in the distance. He pulled Beth into his arms, running his hands up underneath the hem of the shirt, delighting in her breathy moan as his fingers skimmed across her inner thigh, slipping higher to gently caress her. She arched into him, tilting her face for a kiss, and all thoughts of Chase and Markko fled into the night air.
Beth glanced at the time and dialed the café.
"The Grind."
"Hi, Marianne."
"Hey, girl!"
"I'm running a little late this morning. Is the café really busy?"
"Nah. It's actually a little slow." Marianne paused, Angie's screaming in the background filtering through the line.
"You tell him!"
Beth winced as Marianne's shout slammed into her ear. "What?"
"Ah sorry, honey," Marianne said with a laugh, "Angie's shouting at Joe again. He's dropping off some produce."
"What is it this time?"
"Whether or not the cherries he delivered are in season. But we both know that's just the excuse." Marianne lowered her voice. "I swear, one of these days, I'm going to walk into the storeroom and find those two going at it."
Angie's voice rang out loud and clear. "And if Joseph Taylor would stop delivering substandard produce, I'd stop yelling at him."
"Sure you would. For a week, maybe two. Then you'd find a new reason," Marianne countered.
"Ridiculous!"
The light changed as Marianne and Angie continued to bicker, Beth momentarily forgotten. Still, she felt as though she were standing in Angie's kitchen, rather than sitting in her car. She could see it all, Angie's glare and thin, pressed lips, Marianne's casual posture and dismissive expression.
When did I come to know these women so well?
"Well, it's true! Fighting, flirting, it's all the same to you!" Marianne's voice cut through her thoughts and Beth choked out a laugh.
"You're on speaker and I can hear you laughing, Beth. Don't think I'll forget it."
"Oh, don't listen to her, she's just frustrated."
Beth only laughed harder. God, she loved these crazy women.
"What you need is a long night of hot sex. It's done wonders for Beth."
Beth choked and nearly dropped the phone. "What?"
"Well, it has. You're running late. And I've never heard you laugh so much in my life. I put two and two together." Marianne's voice sang with the smugness of someone who knew she was right. "And of course, I got to see the opening act last night. Was it as hot as it looked?"
"Marianne!" Beth tried to contain her embarrassment and redirect the question. "He just stopped by to say hello."
"Where are you, Beth?" Angie's straightforward question startled Beth out of her embarrassment.
Grateful for the change of subject, Beth spluttered, "I just turned onto Prescott..."
"Prescott? Bit out of your way this morning, aren't you? I didn't think Prescott was in your neck of the woods," Angie said, her tone dry.
"Angie!" Beth squeaked, at the same time Marianne caught up to the conversation.
"Prescott's up by Braden."
"We're even," Angie announced. "Now, I've got muffins that need baking. Don't come in this morning, Beth. Go on home and we'll see you tomorrow. Don't keep her on the phone too long, Marianne."
Marianne squealed and said, "Never made it home last night, huh?"
Beth didn't reply.
"Oh, don't bother. I know you didn't. So, how was he? Thorough I'll bet, judging by the way he devoured you in the kitchen last night."
"Oh my God, Marianne!" Mortification rushed through her.
"I want details!" Marianne paused, as though racking her brain for which question to ask first. "Was it good? Oooh, how many times? Did you sleep at all?"
"We are not going to have this conversation." Relieved she didn't have to work, Beth headed home. It'd be nice to go back to her place and hold onto the giddy feelings still rushing through her for a little while longer. Reality could wait until tomorrow.
"Alright, fine." Marianne acquiesced. Then, in a tone far kinder and more considerate than Beth thought her capable of, she asked, "Did you have a good night?"
Beth heard the Are you okay? Are you happy?
"Last night was..." Beth searched for a word to encompass everything she felt. "It was..." Amazing? Wonderful? No singled word described the incredible high she was riding, so she settled on saying, "It was good."
"Good? What do you mean good?"
"I don't know what to say, Marianne. We had... fun." Talking to Marianne about her sex life felt more like talking to a parent than a friend.
Weird. Very weird.
"Ah. You mean good," Marianne teased. "I guess that'll do for now. So long as you're happy, sweetie."
Sometimes the warmth and understanding Marianne and Angie directed toward Beth dazzled her. What genuine friends. That thought, coupled with the lingering warmth of her time with Braden kept her soaring through rush hour traffic.
Twenty minutes later, Beth climbed the steps to her apartment, looking forward to a long bath and a slow morning. Maybe she'd surprise Braden with lunch at his office. Or would that be presumptuous? They'd slept together. Did that mean anything? They'd never really talked about it. Maybe she should call first, see if he wanted to grab lunch? Her thoughts occupied, she didn't notice anything was wrong until she put her hand on the doorknob and the door creaked open.
Beth didn't move. Her mind slammed into focus. Every instinct she had fired the same message simultaneously.
Run!
As she willed her fingers to let go, the door burst open, tugging her across the threshold, a hand, heavy and strong, clamped down on her shoulder, throwing her inside, the door slamming behind her.
Cold fear coursed through her.
Markko.
All of her nightmares coalesced into reality.
A wave of adrenaline, so brutal it was nauseating, crashed through her.
Fine.
Use the adrenaline. Fight the panic.
Get out of the situation.
"Been a long time." Markko stalked forward. "I hadn't planned to see you quite so soon, but I had to rid myself of an unexpected nuisance last night." A cruel sneer twisted his face. He blocked the only exit, and he knew it. "Let's get reacquainted."
Consider your options. Front door's blocked.
Bedroom window. Beth turned, lunging for the door to her bedroom as Markko leaped, catching her around the legs and driving her into the floor. She hit the ground hard, the skin of her palms flared hot and painful against the carpet, and the contents of her purse spilled across the floor.
Focus.
Get to the purse.
Beth kicked back viciously at Markko's face and shoulders as she stretched for her purse, fingertips brushing the handle. The pepper spray she always carried was just out of reach.
Just as her fingers brushed the straps of her bag Markko got a solid hold on her left calf and wrenched her toward him. Twisting, Beth glanced over her shoulder and smashed her foot with all the force she had into his face. Bones crunched beneath her shoe, his grip loosened and he howled in pain.
Now.
Move.
Beth pushed her knees beneath her and dove for her purse, fingers closing around the cold cylinder of the pepper spray.
"Bitch!" The words slurred out through wet, raspy breathing.
Fumbling with the safety latch on the spray, Beth struggled to her feet. Why do they make these things so damn hard to use? While focusing on getting the safety latch to open, she was unprepared for Markko, who grabbed her by the hair and jerked her back against him.
"You bitch, you broke my nose."
Warm blood smeared across her skin where he'd spoken against her ear. Disgusted, she tried to drive her head back into his face.
Ducking his head to the side, Markko pulled her tighter against him, his arm snaking around her throat. Bordering on hysterical, Beth gripped the can of pepper spray in her fingers and stabbed it into his face, hoping to catch an eye. The blow glanced off and cut him high across the cheek, impacting bone and breaking the safety clasp.
Markko grunted and relaxed his grip enough for Beth to move. She plowed her elbow into the animal behind her, broke loose and lunged forward. When Markko made another grab for her, Beth turned and fired the spray directly at him.
A cloud of pepper spray erupted into his face and billowed out, burning her eyes and tearing at her lungs.
Go.
Beth stumbled past Markko as he slumped to the floor, choking and tearing at his eyes.
Get to the door.
Keep moving.
Beth repeated the mantra as she tore through the door, tears running down her face, muscles shaking with fear and adrenaline. Half blind and panicked she took the stairs too fast, her foot catching a loose board halfway down and pitching her body into open air.
The last half of the staircase beat the air from her lungs before she stopped against the side of the house. Beth fought the darkness clouding her vision and the searing pain in her side and forced herself to her feet, leaning heavily against the side of the house.
No time.
Move.
She blinked the tears out of her eyes and stumbled.
Get to the street.
Get help.
Vision still hazy, she plowed around the corner, straight into something huge and solid. Large hands wrapped around her shoulders, steadying her and keeping her on her feet.
"Beth?" Braden's voice, warm and concerned, shot a spike of fear straight through her.
What is he doing here?
Frantic, Beth tried to pull away from him.
"You have to go!" Desperation tore the words from her throat. She had to get him back to the car. Markko would be down the steps any minute. God only knew what he'd do to Braden. Brushing his arms away from her, she pushed against his chest. "We have to go, now!"
"Jesus, you're bleeding." He tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her closer, fingers carefully prodding the blood on the side of her face.
"It's not mine." Beth yanked her arm from his grip and tried to pull him toward his car. "We have to go."
"Damn it, Beth. Talk to me!" He planted his feet and pulled her back around.
"Shit! Braden, behind you!" A guy from Braden's car screamed the warning.
Too late. Markko stood behind them, face bleeding and eyes streaming, anger radiating off him in waves. As he sucked fresh air, he raked his gaze from Beth to Braden, brutality twisting his face.
"Edwards!"
The shift happened faster than Beth thought possible. In the time it took for Braden to pull her toward him, Markko had transformed and lunged, ears back and jaws snapping.
Beth braced for the full impact of the charging wolf. Instead, Braden shoved her away from him, her feet leaving the ground before she slammed into the asphalt, the impact sending pain surging up her arms. She twisted around in time to watch Braden take the full impact of a snarling Markko and go down hard on his back, Markko snapping at his neck. Before she could move, Braden pulled his legs up to his chest and launched the wolf across the driveway.
Beth pushed herself to her hands and feet. Braden was still on the ground, unmoving, unprotected.
Get to him.
Get to the car.
Terrified Markko had seriously injured him before he'd had the chance to throw him off, Beth steeled herself and glanced back.
Disbelief hit her with the force of a blow and acid raced up her throat. She'd expected the worst---a torn and bloodied throat. Glassy eyes that stared at her unseeing.
Instead, Braden pushed himself to a crouch and leaped forward, shifting from man to wolf, shattering the world around her. He hit the pavement on four paws, hackles raised, head bent toward Markko.
Please, no.
Not this. Never this.
Beth's heart slammed against her ribs and her pulse pounded in her ears. The world around her smeared out of focus as the first agonizing pains of the shift ravaged her body.
No!
Focus! Stall the change.
Beth counted backward from ten, focusing on pulling air in through her nose and pushing it back out through her mouth. She'd never shifted forms outside of the lunar cycle before and she'd never had any success fighting the change. But now, palms pressed to the gravel driveway, back arched in pain, she threw every ounce of strength she had behind keeping her human form. Saliva pooled in her mouth and her fingers curled into the asphalt beneath her, scraping her knuckles.
She choked on a sob, as the skin along her spine pulled taut, a thousand needle pricks raced down her neck, across her shoulders then followed the length of her spine; everywhere the sensation raced, fur burst from her skin.
Fight it!
Agony stole a scream from her throat and forced it through her clenched teeth as tendons and ligaments suddenly constricted, pulling her legs taught and seizing her fingers into her palms.
The muscles along her arms rippled and pulled taut, dropping her closer to the ground. She couldn't stop the change. Fighting it was only leaving her vulnerable.
Fine. Use it.
Shift. Try to run for it.
For the first time, Beth focused on the memories of her previous shifts---full moons she'd spent scared and alone in her apartment, memories she actively buried every month. She searched for how those changes had felt. Painful as they had been, they'd also been faster than this one.
Relax.
Let muscle memory take over.
Beth exhaled, reached for the familiarity of past shifts and tried to let go. Her body arched and her teeth ground together as her neck jerked beyond her control and finally the shift began. As her mind cleared and instinct took over, lightning struck her ribs.
Beth screamed---the sound that ripped from her throat half human agony and half suffering animal. Another punch of lightning hit her in her back. Time stopped. She collapsed to the ground, completely limp and barely conscious.
Tremors wracked her limbs and stunned silence filled her mind.
The change stopped. Her fingers shook involuntarily, but they were long and unclenched. The shift not only halted but completely reversed.
A thick hand wrapped around her upper arm and yanked her up; she tried to push her feet beneath her, but her muscles refused to obey her commands. She felt herself start to slide toward the ground, but the man holding her hoisted her up and over his shoulder.
The position jarred her ribs, radiating pain through her chest with every step. She was momentarily relieved when she was dumped over the back of a car, the warm metal smooth against her clammy cheek. Rough hands grabbed her wrists, yanking them behind her back. A zipping sound cut the air and plastic ties cut sharply into her skin.
No!
Familiar panic clawed through her mind and sent her legs kicking out behind her. She'd been here before.
"No." She struggled against the plea, shame clogging her throat. "Please, no."
She was jerked back to her feet and the trunk of the car sprang open.
"No!" She forced her feet up against the bumper of the car, shoving away from the trunk with all of her remaining strength. The second her feet left the bumper, arms snatched her legs, forcing her into the trunk.
The last thing she saw, before the trunk came down, plunging her into darkness, was Braden's cold, unflinching gaze.
Breathe.
Don't panic.
Beth struggled against the oppressive darkness. The sharp slam of the trunk still rang in her ears and, as the engine fired and the car moved out of the driveway, the past rushed up, clawed into her mind and pulled her under.
Two Years Ago...
Liz jerked awake as the van made a sharp right turn, the momentum rolling her on top of her bound hands. She bit her lip against the pain and tried to quietly adjust her body to take the pressure off her arms. She'd worked desperately to slip her wrists out of the zip ties the men had used to bind her hands behind her back. Hours later, she was still bound, the skin around her wrists raw and sticky with blood. Every time the van bounced, her weight shifted back on her arms and pain radiated from her wrists up through her shoulders.
Liz rolled onto her stomach, taking the pressure off her arms as the van continued to bounce. She tried to gain her bearings. Dim light filtered into the back of the van; dawn was approaching. What time had they been grabbed? Two in the morning, a little later? That meant they'd been traveling three or four hours at least, possibly more. God only knew where they were being taken. Not into civilization, Liz guessed. If the way the van bounced and pitched was any indication, the smooth blacktop of the highway was far behind them. Did that mean they were closer to their destination? Closer to death?
Liz fought against the panic clawing up her throat.
Stay calm.
You can't afford to panic.
If she and Rachel were going to have any chance at survival, she had to keep a cool head. Keeping Rachel from falling apart would be challenge enough. More light filtered into the back of the van, the darkness receding into gray, revealing the outline of Rachel. She had her cheek pushed against the floor of the van, some of her long blond hair spilling over her shoulder and around her face. Between the alcohol and the terror, it hadn't taken long for Rachel to sob herself into an exhausted sleep, abandoning Liz to deal with the harsh reality of their situation. Hopefully, Rachel would sleep through a little more of the van's rough bouncing; the longer she slept off the alcohol and remained unaware, the better.
Liz jumped, every muscle in her body tensing. The hiss and crackle of a radio filled the van, and a deep voice fired off a barrage of what sounded like Russian. The driver picked up the radio and responded. Their kidnappers hadn't said much in the last several hours but none of it had been in English. Frustration ate at Liz's nerves. She knew they were in trouble. Still, she'd rather know what they faced, get the panic out of the way and move on to figuring out how to deal with the situation.
"Lizzy?" Rachel's voice cut through her thoughts.
"Shh," Liz whispered. "It's okay."
Rachel blinked slowly, glancing around the van. She found Liz's face in the darkness, fresh tears welling in her swollen eyes. Her breathing hitched.
"Oh God," Rachel sobbed, struggling against the ties on her wrists.
Liz moved, aching to reach for Rachel, frustrated as her wrists pulled against the ties. Instead, she scooted across the space between them and pushed her forehead against Rachel's.
"Rachel... Rachel, look at me."
Rachel kept her eyes pressed firmly shut but stopped struggling.
Good enough.
"It's okay. We're okay. Try to stay calm."
"Calm?" Rachel stuttered with hysteria. "Calm? I can't, Lizzy. We're, oh God, we're..." She trailed off, words strangled by a fresh wave of sobs.
"In trouble?" Liz reached for all the levity she possessed. The humor she pushed into the words snapped Rachel's eyes open.
"Well, yeah," she said incredulously.
"Like we've never been in trouble before?" Liz kept eye contact and forced her lips to curl up. "I mean really, Rach. Have you forgotten that spring break in Mexico? That was trouble."
Rachel choked against a laugh.
I'll take it. Anything is better than the sobbing.
"That worked out, right?"
"Yeah." Rachel sniffed through a watery nose and pressed her head against Liz's shoulder.
"Right. So we stick together and we don't panic. Okay?"
Silence fell between them and, for a moment, Liz was afraid that Rachel was going to slide back into hysteria. Instead, Rachel took a deep breath beside her and murmured, "Okay."
"Good. And Rach?"
"Yeah?"
"You better not be snotting all over my shoulder."
"You could use new clothes."
"True. But this is your sweater, remember?"
They shared a secret smile as the van rumbled to a stop. The two men in the front stepped out, slamming the doors behind them. Liz seized one last opportunity to bolster Rachel. "Remember, no matter what, we stick together. Don't panic. Okay?" The side door squealed open and Liz bumped Rachel with her shoulder. "Okay?"
Clear eyes met hers and Rachel nodded. "Okay."
A rough hand grabbed Liz's bound wrists and dragged her out of the van. She barely managed to get her legs beneath her before she hit the ground. As she gained her feet, she heard Rachel being pulled out of the van behind her.
A rough shove propelled her forward. "Get moving."
Liz stumbled forward into the morning air and felt a solid lump of despair settle at the bottom of her stomach. They'd driven into a small clearing, every side flanked by trees so tall they completely blocked the morning sun. There were no buildings, and even in the early quiet of the morning, Liz couldn't hear any traffic to indicate a main road nearby.
We're in the middle of nowhere.
There was another van parked parallel with the one they'd arrived in, and several other people were being hoisted out of the back and herded toward the clearing.
"That's far enough." Markko's fingers dug into her arm until she stopped. Rachel stepped up next to her, pressing close to her side, glancing around with wide eyes. "Lizzy?"
"I don't know. Stay close."
Markko stood behind her and the guy from the street, the one Markko had addressed as Alek, stood behind Rachel. The young man Liz recognized from earlier that night and an unknown fourth made up the points of a rough square, boxing in several people Liz didn't recognize. An older couple, probably in their mid-fifties, huddled together next to Rachel. The man pressed his eyes closed and leaned into the woman's side, whispering into her ear. The woman tightened her hand around the man's forearm, her wedding band glinting with the movement. How long had they been married? Would they see another anniversary?
Overwhelmed, Liz looked away to a woman in a flimsy halter and a short pair of cutoffs. She'd already lost her shoes. Fine tremors racked her body as she stared through her surroundings, a silent mantra spilling from her lips.
Two young men stood to Liz's left, one of them wearing a University of Texas sweatshirt. University students? They didn't seem to know each other. Would their friends and family, wherever they were, notice they were missing? How long would it take for her own family to start to worry? She and Rachel had called home less than twenty-four hours ago---days could pass before anyone realized they were missing.
Beyond the young men a lone woman stood, feet planted, hands curled into fists. She looked to be in her early twenties, maybe younger. Of all of them, she seemed the most composed. She stood her ground, a guarded expression watching everything. When their eyes met, she briefly inclined her head, as if to say hey.
For a long moment, only the sounds of the wind rustling the trees and early morning birdcalls filled the air. Finally, as Liz began to wonder if any of the men were ever going to say anything, the kid in the University of Texas sweatshirt spoke up.
"Why the hell are we here?" His tone wavered between angry and frightened. "What the fuck do you want?"
"What do we want?" Markko strode toward him, a smile stretched across his face. "Just to have a little fun." With his gaze never leaving the kid's face, Markko barked, "Aleksander."
Alek stepped forward, withdrawing something from his pocket. He flicked his wrist and his butterfly knife flew open, clicking into an open and locked position as he approached Liz and Rachel. Unable to do anything to stop it, Liz watched as he wrenched Rachel away from her.
"Lizzy!"
"Leave her alone! Don't touch her."
Alek held Rachel in front of him and slowly ran the tip of the blade in a vertical line from Rachel's throat down the front of her shirt. "Or what?" Alek taunted as fat tears squeezed out between Rachel's clenched eyelids, tracking down her face.
Desperately Liz pleaded, "Please. Whatever you want." She took a bracing breath. "I'll do whatever you want. Just let her go."
A burst of clapping sliced through the tension around them. "Oh, you...you are so much better than I'd thought you'd be." Markko strode toward Liz until he stood directly in front of her, a smug smile plastered across his face. "Oh, Lizzy." His breath skittered across her face and Liz fought to hold her ground. "You know, I knew I'd like you when I saw you in the bar. The ones with a bit of fight, a bit of defiance, are always so interesting. Although..." Markko raked his gaze over her, "You are far more attractive than most. Too bad you're not for me. You'll be Ivan's first." Markko gestured to the young kid standing at the edge of the clearing. "And I promised my little brother I'd find him a true challenge; he'll always remember his first."
Liz's stomach turned but she ground out, "Let her go."
Markko smiled, "No." He glanced over her shoulder and said, "Go ahead."
The moment the words left his lips, Rachel started screaming and struggling, trying to twist away from Alek. His knife came up, flashing in the morning light, poised to slice Rachel's life away, but plummeted down, cutting through the ties that held Rachel's hands together instead. Alek shoved Rachel away from him, laughter filling the air around him.
Markko's firm grip around Liz's elbow prevented her from rushing to her friend. Rachel hit the ground hard and didn't get up, sobbing into the earth beneath her.
Cold metal pushed between Liz's hands and the ties around her wrists snapped apart. The moment he released her, Liz darted forward, dropping to her knees next to Rachel.
"It's okay. Take a deep breath. Calm down." Rubbing Rachel's back, Liz looked around the clearing. Alek was busy slicing through the captives' bonds as Markko rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, grinning.
"Come on, you've got to get up." Liz got a firm grip around Rachel's arm and forced her to her feet.
"I believe you wanted to know why you're here." The clearing went silent. "Every blue moon, we arrange a little game. The rules are simple. In a few minutes, you will be released."
Whispering rustled through the clearing.
"You'll be free to go."
Liz tightened her grip on Rachel's arm and waited for the ax to fall.
"You have until nightfall, at which point we hunt. Seems fair, no?" Markko smiled and nodded toward his men who immediately backed away.
"Hunt? What, you mean you're gonna chase us through the woods, like with guns or something?" Texas asked, face disbelieving.
"No." Markko's lips pulled away from his teeth. "A true predator needs no weapon."
Movement in the corner of her eye caught Liz's attention. Alek stood off to the side, toeing off his shoes and pulling down his pants. She glanced at the rest of the men, shock shifting to bafflement. All of the men were stripping.
"Aleksander!" Markko barked. "Show them."
Alek stalked, brazenly nude, into the clearing. He smiled and bent into a low crouch that reminded Liz of a sprinter setting in starting blocks. Shoulders pushed in and back arching, Alek grunted as the skin along his spine rippled from his neck all the way down his backbone.
Gagging but unable to look away, Liz watched as Alek's body began to shift. Birdsong died and the clearing fell unnaturally quiet, the silence broken only by Alek's grunting and the sound of bones snapping.
Alek's legs jerked in toward his body. His hamstrings flexed and shortened into hindquarters. Hair sprouted, first all the way along his back and spine, then raced down his arms and legs. Finally, as he opened his mouth to scream, his face shifted, lengthened and honed into a snout. A howling wolf sprung from where moments before a man had crouched.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Texas panic and run toward the parked vans. He didn't take four steps before the wolf was on him, bearing him to the ground.
"No! No... Please!" The wolf pinned him, facedown in the dirt, jaws spread across the back of his neck. The slightest pressure would be lethal.
"Oh my God, Lizzy..." Rachel's fingers clawed into Liz's sweater.
"Don't look, Rachel," Liz whispered, relieved as Rachel pushed her face into her shoulder. "Don't look."
"Let him up, Aleksander." Markko strode, fully naked, toward where the wolf---where Aleksander---had Texas pinned. When he didn't immediately back off, Markko barked, "Aleksander!"
Alek paced back, his teeth bared and allowed Texas to push himself up.
"Now, now, no running." Markko tsked. "You're getting ahead of the game," he said, glancing around the clearing, a smile on his face. "We haven't discussed the rules yet."
"First..." Markko waved toward the other two men, who instantly transformed from men to wolves. It happened so quickly that Liz wondered if Alek had drawn out his shift for the sheer pleasure of seeing everyone react. "Right. Rules. First, to ensure that this is sporting for us, you'll be given until moonrise, at which time our hunt will begin." The three wolves prowled the group in ever tightening circles, each moving toward a group of hostages.
"You may head toward the trees and into the woods. If you're caught circling back to the cars, you'll have spoiled our fun." Markko's voice hardened. "We would be most disappointed." He let the threat hang in the air.
Screaming erupted. One of the wolves circled the older couple, snarling and snapping, occasionally leaning in and sniffing at their legs. A bulky, brown one Liz thought might be Alek headed toward the two single women, hackles raised and teeth barred. The third wolf prowled their way. Grabbing Rachel's hand, she pulled her in tight against her back.
The wolf circled them twice, tightening in closer each time, snout pressed to the ground. As he passed behind them he dodged in, snapping at Rachel's ankles. Screaming, Rachel panicked and jerked away.
"No!" Liz curled her fingers into Rachel's arm and yanked her back. "We stay together."
The wolf circled around and stopped in front of Liz. Eerie, intelligent eyes inspected her as he approached. Liz squealed and jumped, but managed to hold her ground as the wolf pressed his snout hard against the crotch of her jeans and sniffed.
Bile burned in the back of her throat and Liz stumbled back a step, horrified when his long tongue licked the denim covering the inside of her thigh before he backed off.
"Everyone ready?" Markko stood in front of her again. "You have her scent, Ivan?"
The wolf behind her brushed up against her legs as he withdrew.
"Good." Markko leaned into Liz, pressing his mouth against her ear and took a long, deep breath. "So do I."
"Go!"
At first, no one moved, but then, the wolves gathered, snarling and barking as they tightened their circle and herded everyone toward the tree line. Liz reached behind her and jerked Rachel forward, forcing her to walk in front of her.
"I can't." Rachel pressed closer to Liz's side and sobbed out, "I can't do this. I can't."
Liz twisted out of her grasp and shook her. "Yes, you can. We're going."
"Go where?" Panic choked her words. "Where are we going to go?"
Liz stumbled as Rachel was pulled away from her. "Shut up!"
The young woman from earlier had a solid grip around Rachel's arm and started hauling her toward the trees. "Your dramatics are going to get the both of you killed. Is that what you want?"
"No." Rachel's voice wavered, but she didn't struggle or stop moving.
"Then let's go." With a final shove in the right direction, the three of them broke into a jog, slipping into the edge of the forest.
\*\*\*
The sun hadn't yet crested the trees, but the dew was burning off into mist as the morning warmed. Rachel stopped moving and leaned heavily against a tree, breathing hard. Liz slowed her pace, then turned back. "We've got to keep moving."
"I have to stop, Lizzy." Rachel pushed a sweaty strand of hair back from her forehead and took a deep breath. "I feel like we've been running for hours."
It hadn't been hours, but they had pushed a brutal pace for the last forty minutes or so. When they'd first entered the forest they'd seen a few of the other people from the clearing, heard them moving through the forest's thick undergrowth. But now Liz didn't hear anyone outside of their party of three. It made the forest feel bigger and more intimidating.
"What's the hold up?" The woman that had helped them out of the clearing jogged up to them.
"We just need a breather." Liz stuck out her hand, "I'm Liz by the way."
The woman's smooth palm gripped her hand, "I'm Allison, Allison Sparks." In the growing light, her hair glinted dark red and hundreds of tiny freckles spread across her nose and cheeks. Fresh faced and young, she looked startlingly vulnerable, her appearance casting an astonishing light on her actions of the morning. Few people would have exhibited the poise and control she had. Liz would be forever grateful for her help getting out of the clearing.
"I'm Rachel, by the way." She didn't bother to move from where she'd propped herself up against the tree, but did manage a small smile and a little wave.
"We really shouldn't stop." Allison glanced around warily. "We don't know how long they'll actually wait before they come after us."
Liz stiffened. "You think they'll come before nightfall?"
"No." Allison cast a cautious glance at Rachel, who was watching the exchange with wide eyes, her face frozen in a shell-shocked expression. "But I don't intend to trust them to play by their so-called rules."
"I agree." Liz frowned and pushed the sensation of the wolf's snout pressed up against her out of her mind. The feel of his tongue...
No.
Stop, don't think about it.
Don't feel it.
"You okay?"
Liz forced herself to focus on the present. "Yeah." Allison's fingers curled around her limp hand and squeezed.
"You did great back there. You held it together." Allison's soothing blue gaze held hers. "Keep it up."
"Right." Liz squeezed her hand and let it go.
"Look, let's try to get a little farther. The more distance we put between us and them, the better."
"Okay." Liz turned and extended a hand to Rachel. "She's right. We'll get a little farther into the woods, then take a break."
Rachel looked at her from behind her bangs, panic lurking, ready to drag her under.
"Don't think. Just move."
"Don't think about it, she says." Rachel muttered under her breath as she gripped Liz's outstretched hand. "A crazy pack of dog-men is hunting us through the woods, and she says don't think about it." Rachel forced a smile. "Don't think about it, my ass."
An hour and a half later Liz couldn't tell how much progress they'd made. They'd moved quickly, occasionally chatting to fill the most oppressive of the silence, but for all Liz knew they'd been walking around in circles. Regardless, they needed to stop soon; Rachel hadn't said anything in half an hour and she was beginning to drag her feet. She needed a break. They all did.
Allison disappeared over a hill a hundred yards ahead. Liz moved past Rachel, ignoring the burning in her legs. "Come on, let's get up this hill. Then we'll rest."
Finally, thighs burning and sweat soaking her hairline, Liz crested the hill. "I swear when I get home, I'm spending some quality time at the gym." She turned and helped Rachel maneuver over the steepest section.
They stood together for a moment and surveyed the landscape before them. "Oh God." Rachel uttered a defeated noise and slid to her butt.
Disappointment fell on her like rocks. Liz hadn't really expected to crest the hill and find civilization, but the vast open forest in front of them was incredibly intimidating.
Allison was already down the other side of the hill, standing next to a wide stream that cut a path through the trees. She glanced up and waved them down.
"I'm going to go talk to Allison for a minute. Relax. Stay off your feet for a while. I'll come get you in a few minutes, okay?"
Rachel pulled her knees to her chest and laid her forehead against her legs. "Whatever."
"Rachel..."
"It's fine, Lizzy." Rachel snapped. "I just need a minute."
"Okay." Hoping that a bit of rest would help reenergize Rachel, Liz carefully picked her way down the steep terrain.
The last thing I need is a broken ankle.
"Be careful, I slipped and fell..." Allison called out as Liz went down hard on her backside. "Right about there." Allison stepped up and extended a worn smile and a hand. "It's really wet right in here, so be careful."
Allison glanced to Rachel. "How's she holding up?"
"Okay." Liz shrugged. "Terrible. I don't know."
"You've got to keep her moving. Keep her mind occupied. The longer she has to sit and stew, the worse the fear and depression is going to get." Allison looked Liz over. "How are you doing?"
Hysteria bubbled in her throat like a laugh.
How am I doing?
Terrified, scared stupid, ready for the padded room?
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Liz met Allison's eyes, and saw her fear reflected there, openly shared between them.
"No, I'm not."
"If you need to panic, now's the time." Allison's expression held as steady as the rest of her. "Take a minute, get it out of your system."
For one agonizing moment, Liz let everything she'd tried so desperately to ignore rush over her. The horror and disbelief was nauseating. The fear and desperation consumed her until nothing but the harsh static of panic-induced white noise filled her brain. She braced her hands on her knees and tried to breathe around the sob clogging her throat.
What are we going to do?
We're helpless out here, prey for men more terrifying than I've ever imagined.
The helplessness cleared away some of the fear and panic clouding her mind, replacing it with a hollow depression.
What chance do we have?
The enormity of the situation dragged her under, threatening to drown her where she stood.
"Minute's up. Pull it together." Allison's voice cut through her thoughts.
Liz lifted her head and glanced at the woman standing across from her. Fear was plain on her face, but every single line of the rest of her body screamed determination. It gave Liz the strength to straighten and a force air back into her lungs.
"Good," Allison whispered. "Now lock it away."
Liz forced herself to push the fear and doubt from her mind.
Focus.
She made herself listen to the quiet babble of the stream, the birdcalls and the other natural noises of the woods around them. The more she focused, the easier it was to block out the suffocating silence of the vast wilderness, and the less alone and threatened she felt.
"Thank you. I think I need that."
Allison nodded. "You've been carrying the both of you. I could tell you needed a minute to process this." Allison glanced away to where Rachel still sat at the top of the hill, head buried in her arms.
"You have to keep her calm." Allison turned back to Liz. "Keep her moving, don't let her rest too long. The longer she sits idle, the more time she'll have to let the fear consume her."
Liz worried her bottom lip. Rachel was stubborn on her best day; an emotionally overwhelmed and exhausted Rachel would be a nightmare. "I'm not sure how. She's already starting to crash."
"Remind her why you're running. Why you can't stop." Allison's voice took a hard edge. "Remind her that steps behind you are men who are going to hunt you down and kill you. If you're lucky." Allison's eyes flashed, but with fear or anger Liz wasn't certain. "You remind her that this isn't some bad horror film. This is real. You tell her what they'll do if they catch you." Allison continued in a fierce whisper. "This is sport for them, they'll want to enjoy it. They won't make death easy. You tell her that. And then you keep moving."
The blood drained from Liz's face and the enormity of the situation hit her again. She'd been processing things in pieces and hadn't let herself think about what would happen if they were caught. Now she had a host of images, each more violent and depraved than the last, pressing against her brain.
Allison must have read her expression because her face softened as she said, "If you have to choose between despondency and fear, go with fear." Allison glanced back up at Rachel. "It's brought her this far. Can you do that?"
Can I?
Could she be that cruel, knowing that as the words crossed her lips she'd have to stare into Rachel's terrified eyes? Liz took a long look at Rachel's huddled form.
Yeah.
If it keeps her alive. Whatever it takes.
Resolved, Liz focused back on the conversation. "Why does this feel like goodbye?"
Allison smiled. "I knew I liked you. Coolheaded. Observant. You can do this." Her smile faded. "And you're right. We're splitting up."
No!
Allison was the only reason they'd come this far.
"But why?"
"It's simple math---think about it. How many hostages were in the clearing?" Allison asked, letting her think it through.
"Nine or ten?" Liz struggled to run back through everyone she'd seen.
"There was the older couple, the other woman, two college guys, me, you and Rachel." Allison ticked them off on her fingers as she went. "The couple will stick together, though I don't know how far they'll get." Allison's face shut down, her voice going flat. "I don't expect the other woman to get too far, either. It looked like she was coming down from something. The two guys stand a better chance. I couldn't tell if they knew each other, but let's say for argument's sake that they did. Assuming I stay with you guys, and the guys stick together, that's four groups."
"Plus four hunters," Liz responded, catching up with the logic.
"Right. Assuming they all go after different targets, they're likely to pick off the woman and the older couple rather quickly."
Liz forced herself to ignore the brutally honest assessment. It must have bothered Allison as well because she snapped her mouth shut and swallowed heavily.
"I know it's harsh."
Liz reached out and carefully squeezed her hand, eager to return a fraction of the support the other woman had offered. "But necessary."
"Right," Allison choked out, pressing her eyes shut. "Right. If we're lucky, the guys will split up, that would give four men three groups to chase. But if we split up..."
"Even if the guys don't split up, that leaves three groups to hunt."
"And if they do, then there's four, it's the best odds we'll get."
"But we don't know that they'll hunt that way. They might hunt in a pack, pick us off one at a time," Liz countered, not ready to concede.
"We can't count on that. Our odds are best if we split up." Allison shook her head. "Even if we stick together, we aren't strong enough to fight them off if they catch us. This is the best thing." Allison glanced back at Rachel. "For everyone."
"Alright. I see your point."
Even if I hate it.
"Now what?"
"Now I go this way." Allison pointed downstream. "And you and Rachel cross here and head downstream on the other side. We were lucky, actually."
"How so?" Liz asked.
"They took my cell phone in the van. I'm guessing they took yours too?"
Liz nodded.
"Our phones may not have even worked out here. But without GPS, the best thing we could find is moving water. With any luck the river will lead us to a road, or a town, or something. Follow it for as long as you can, don't stop unless you absolutely have to."
"What about at nightfall? I hate to say it, but I doubt those men are the only things out here we should worry about."
"No, but they're the immediate threat. Your priority should be to put as much distance between you as possible. You should be able to see well enough once night falls. The blue moon's tonight."
"What is that? I remember Markko talking about it in the clearing, but I didn't know what he meant."
"Every couple of years, we get two full moons in a single month. The second one is tonight."
A bubble of laughter surprised her. "Sorry, sorry." She waved off Allison's startled expression. "Come on, you have to admit that the fact that there's a rare full moon tonight adds a certain cliché air to the whole thing."
Allison laughed. "You have a point."
Both girls turned when they heard Rachel let out a long string of curses. She'd slipped and landed flat on her butt in the same place both Liz and Allison had. "I swear those rocks are out to get us."
Allison sparkled with the last of the laughter, then turned serious. "She came down on her own though. That's good."
"And I guess that means it's time." Every fiber in her body screamed at Liz to beg Allison to stay with them. It would be so much easier with her steady, calming influence.
"Yeah." Allison shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, then pulled Liz into a brief one armed hug. "You can do this."
Liz hugged her back. "We can all do this."
"Hey, Liz?"
"Yeah?"
"When you get home, look me up. I'm in the Denver area." Allison smiled. "We'll form a group, or have a drink." She shrugged. "You know, whatever."
"Yeah. I'll do that." Liz forced herself to turn and walk back to Rachel, blocking out the sound of her strongest ally heading the opposite direction.
"Where's she going?" Rachel asked, watching Allison's retreat.
"The same place we are, Rach." Liz slipped her arm through Rachel's and pulled her to her feet. "Home."
"Jesus, Chase," Braden snarled, frustrated hands gripping the wheel as he merged onto the highway. "Was the Taser necessary?"
"You know it's the only way to interrupt a shift that far gone," Chase answered. "There is no telling what she might have done once shifted. Bad enough Markko slipped away, we needed to secure her. Get some answers."
"Who knows if he'll be back?" Anger boiling under the surface, Braden forced his foot to let up on the accelerator.
The last thing you need right now is to get pulled over.
"Are we taking her out to your parents?" Chase asked.
"Our parents," Braden barked out, anger and adrenaline shortening his temper to the length of a match. "Our parents, dammit. And yes. Dad can deal with her."
I'm done.
Chase blew out a frustrated sigh and then pitched his voice as though speaking to a young child. "We can't be sure of anything yet."
"You saw her!" Braden's head jerked to the side, then back to the road, his brother's calm facade infuriating. "She was more than midshift---don't tell me you didn't see it. She bears the Prime Mantle, Chase. By bite or by blood, she's related to those bastards."
"The same could be said for me," Chase stated quietly, turning to stare out the window.
Several long minutes passed, the still quiet of the car a direct contrast to the turmoil raging in Braden's head. He thumbed the radio controls on his steering wheel and adjusted the volume to screaming. But even Zeppelin couldn't silence the storm in his mind.
Idiot.
Chase had tried to warn him something wasn't right. That the coincidence was too great.
But did I listen? No.
He'd never seriously thought Beth was anything other than what she presented herself to be. A cute, sweet, waitress who worked at Angie's. He'd pursued her. Allowed himself to become involved with her.
Hell, he cared about her.
Even now, a part of him wondered if she was okay. Could she breathe in the trunk? Was she seriously hurt? Conscious?
Disgust wiped away the thoughts. He should have known better, been more careful. He had no right to feel so hurt, so betrayed.
And that's the real problem, isn't it? The real reason fury raged through him. Anger he could have dealt with, gotten over and brushed aside. But betrayal? It only turned the anger inward, set him raging against himself for being so ensnared by Beth that he couldn't pull free and walk away.
When did I grant her that much power?
Enough was enough. Whatever he felt for Beth he'd manage. He'd get her to his parents' house. Let Chase and his father deal with her. He had a life in Portland.
One that doesn't include Beth.
The thought churned acid in his gut.
Whatever. Focus on something else.
Braden killed the radio. "I've never considered you one of them, Chase."
"Yeah." Chase responded dutifully.
"I've never considered you one of them. Or tainted by them. Chase..."
"I know." Chase turned away from the window, his quiet gaze focused on Braden. "I know that."
Chase didn't say anything for a long moment, but didn't turn back to the window either. "It's unreasonable to believe that I'm the only one who's ever been unwillingly infected by their filth."
"It's unreasonable to assume your circumstances apply to her."
"Is it?"
"Fine. What's more likely? Beth, an American who doesn't appear to have any ties to Eastern Europe is turned, accidentally, maliciously, whatever and finds her way to Portland and coincidentally into my bed? Me, a werewolf with a Prime lineage?" Braden paused, searching for words that didn't scrape against his pride like sandpaper against skin. "Or, that she was sent here to seduce her way into my bed, for information, destruction or whatever," he said, forcing air through his nose. "Which is more likely, Chase?"
"I think you're giving them a lot of credit. They're more the blunt instrument types than meticulous plotters. They don't have the patience. Maim, torture and murder is more their speed," Chase countered.
"Fine, so it's a more sophisticated plan. But hardly unbelievable. And still more likely than mere coincidence. They've been attempting to end our line in one way or another for centuries. Frankly, I'm surprised it's taken them this long to try something like this."
"I'm not saying it's impossible." Chase sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. "Hell, it's even likely."
"Then what's your point with all this?" Braden set his teeth and resisted the urge to strangle the steering wheel or his brother. "You were the one that wanted me to be cautious. Insisted she had a connection to Markko. So what's changed in the last hour? What, Chase? Because from what I saw, we have more than enough reason to assume she's involved with him." Braden ground his teeth, the muscles along his jaw popping.
"That's your anger and your ego talking." Chase shrugged off Braden's furious expression. "It's true. Your pride's hurt. You aren't looking at things rationally."
"She's a werewolf. And a Prime descendant. What the fuck am I not seeing?"
"How about, she didn't change at will?" Chase snapped back. "How about, she didn't have control of her shift!"
"So she's a young wolf, new to the shift."
"Yeah, but even early transformations brought on by the lunar cycle, or by circumstances that trigger the change as a self-defense mechanism, don't take the length of time hers did. They don't induce that kind of pain, either."
"So she tried to maintain the illusion. Keep her cover," Braden said, hanging on to the anger. Anger was easier. Safer. If he allowed for doubt, he'd drive himself crazy.
"Maybe," Chase acknowledged. "But why was she so scared?"
Beth had been panicked when she'd slammed into him outside her home. Focusing on the moment, Braden tried to bring every detail into crystal clear focus. She'd been breathing hard, her pulse racing, pupils blown in panic.
She'd looked terrified.
He fought back the wave of compassion that that swept through him
Focus on the facts.
So she'd been scared. She could have seen him pull in, thought if he saw Markko the game would blow up in her face and panicked. He rolled the scene through his mind again, trying to gauge her reactions, understand her motivations.
The vision of her, terrified and pulling at his arm wouldn't leave him. There'd been blood on her face. Had Markko hurt her?
Bastard. If he touched her...
The image of her crouched on the pavement midshift superseded his thoughts. He saw white fur springing up along the spine and shoulders he'd spent the previous night mapping with hands and tongue. He could see delicate hands that had clenched around his as they'd climaxed together, curling into paws.
Fury rushed him.
No matter what, one thing was certain. Beth was not who she claimed to be. She'd deceived him, lied to him.
Whatever relationship we built is gone. If it even existed in the first place.
\*\*\*
Beth jerked awake. The steady thrum of the car on the highway coupled with the oppressive heat of the truck had pushed her into an exhausted sleep.
Just as well.
Sleep was infinitely better than the path her thoughts had traveled after the trunk of Braden's car had slammed her into darkness.
Beth squeezed her eyes shut against fresh tears.
How could I have been so stupid?
So trusting?
Despite initial reservations, she'd ignored her own common sense and fallen into bed with Braden. After spending so much time looking over her shoulder, she'd missed the threat standing right in front of her.
Fool. Duped by a sweet smile and a gentle hand.
Humiliation fueled her anger. She should never have gotten involved with Braden. She'd sensed it when she met him. But had she stopped herself? Had she listened to the whispered thoughts, the ones warning her nothing that good would come from an intimate relationship?
No. Of course not.
Beth cursed herself as tears of shame squeezed out from beneath her lashes. Common sense had told her she couldn't have a relationship with anyone. How could she hide her disease long-term? Honesty was out of the question. What guy wouldn't run screaming the other direction?
But here she was, back where the whole nightmare had started. Bound, lying in the dark of a car, being carted God knew where by some freak. But this time was worse. This time she'd trusted, hell, she'd loved the bastard.
Well, screw him.
Markko and his fucking brother hadn't killed her---she'd be damned if she let Braden have the pleasure. He'd had enough pleasure at her expense already.
Beth rolled to her side and pulled her knees to her chest. She took a deep breath, willed her muscles to go loose and tried to slip her butt through the loop of her arms. She didn't even get halfway before the zip ties cut into her wrists. Agony ate at her willpower, filling her head with thoughts of quitting.
No!
She pulled the memory of Braden shifting from man to beast to the front of her mind. Incomprehensible fury overrode the pain and fear, giving her the strength to pull her arms behind her knees.
Panting, Beth allowed herself to rest, hands linked behind her knees.
I can do this.
She pulled her locked hands over her sneakers. Fire scorched against the nerves in her arms. Worse, her struggle reignited the pain in her back and ribs. She wasn't sure what they'd done to stop her change in the driveway, but it had left a lasting impression.
Unwilling to wallow, Beth pulled her arms to her chest and tried to assess how tightly the ties bound her wrists. She wiggled her fingers experimentally and then rubbed her wrists together. Blood smeared across her skin, dripping down her arms and into her palms. The ties were just too tight to slip out of. She needed something to cut through them.
Okay, forget the ties. Find a way out of the trunk.
During her freshman year of college, she'd dragged Rachel to a school sponsored self-defense class. The instructors had talked about what to do if they were ever pushed into the trunk of their car. A smile touched the side of her mouth. She only remembered the discussion because she and Rachel had spent most of the lecture coming up with ways someone could end up locked in the trunk of their own car. Werewolf kidnapping had never crossed their minds.
"I bet you're laughing your ass off, Rachel."
Beth tried to look through the darkness surrounding her. Weren't trunk releases supposed to glow in the dark? She leaned forward and ran her hands along the top of the trunk, feeling for anything that felt like a release.
Nothing.
Nixing the idea, Beth moved on. The instructors had mentioned something about kicking out the taillights and trying to flag down other motorists.
Worth a shot.
"Yes!" Beth did a triumphant butt wiggle when her fingers found a plastic panel in the corner of the trunk. Working her fingers in and around the edges she slowly pried it off. A dim red glow of the taillight illuminated the dark corner.
Beth slowly maneuvered until her feet pressed against the exposed taillight. She felt around with the toe of her shoe, took aim at the opening and kicked as hard as she could. The sharp crack of her shoe against plastic filled the silence around her. Beth strained against the silence of the car. Had they heard her? When she didn't hear any shouting and the car didn't slow, she assumed they hadn't. This was going to be harder---and noisier---than she'd hoped.
Plan B?
Music blared to life in the car, filtering back to the trunk, startling her from her thoughts.
"Yeah, crank that music."
Five minutes later sweat poured down her face, her foot throbbed and the taillight was still stubbornly clinging to the car.
Damn German luxury vehicles.
She released an exasperated sigh.
Time for plan B.
What the hell is plan B?
Maybe there was something she could use packed in with the spare tire? Fingers extended and groping, Beth reached along the edge of the trunk and pried up the carpet, scooting backward as she pulled the carpet as far back as it would go. Pressing it beneath her, Beth rolled over it and directly into the compartment holding the spare.
Beth ran her fingers around the outer edge, trying to find something useful. Her fingers struck fabric. She pulled the small bag with her toward the taillight, using the meager light to examine her find.
Unzipping the package, Beth rooted around on the inside, pulling out what felt like a manual and something compact and heavy; probably the jack. Fishing around for something a little more useful, Beth closed her fingers around a cool cylinder, about the length of a pencil and as wide as a quarter. Praying for a bit of luck, she twisted the top. A soft white beam of light erupted from the end. A flashlight!
Thrilled with the minor success, Beth pointed the flashlight back into the bag. The first couple of things she pulled out were useless, just some pop-up caution triangles for diverting traffic around a stalled car. But the next item held far more promise. The bag included a small first aid kit.
She used her teeth to tear through the plastic surrounding the kit, popped the lid and pointed the flashlight inside. Band-Aids, some packets of pills and ointments and a small roll of gauze. Nothing to help her out of the zip ties.
As she closed the lid she noticed a small package pressed to the roof of the kit. She dug it out and sighed in relief. Inside a zipped bag was a set of rubber gloves, a pair of tweezers and a tiny pair of scissors, slightly larger than the kind used for manicures. They were metal, not plastic, and seemed sturdy enough to cut through the ties on her wrists. She pushed the scissors between her palms, forcing the blades around the section of plastic binding her hands.
It took long, pain-filled minutes, but finally, the zip ties popped apart. Relieved she rolled to her back and pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, trying to find the composure to figure out what to do next.
She pointed the small beam of light against the roof and along the walls of her prison, searching for anything that looked like an emergency release.
What? Forty or fifty thousand dollars doesn't buy you a two-dollar piece of plastic?
She'd have to wait for them to open the trunk.
Fine.
She needed to be in a position to defend herself. Step one was accomplished; her hands were free. Step two had to be to find something to defend herself with.
Beth pushed the scissors into the back pocket of her jeans. They were too small to be an effective weapon, but they might come in handy later. She pointed the flashlight back into the roadside bag, checking for anything else that could be useful.
Nothing.
She needed something offensive. Something to surprise whoever opened the trunk. But what? The flashlight wasn't heavy enough to...
The jack.
That could work. Beth searched the floor of the trunk for the jack she'd tossed aside. Grasping it in both hands she weighed it in her palms.
Short, solid and heavy.
Perfect.
She tightened her hands around the jack. If Braden thought she was going to come quietly, he had another think coming.
And it's coming for your head.
"Think you can handle her?" Chase asked as Braden killed the engine.
Braden stepped out of the car and slid an ugly look toward Chase. "I can manage. She's probably not even conscious---you hit her pretty hard with the Taser."
"Yeah, well, keep it handy," Chase said, tossing the Taser over the car.
"I'm sure I can manage." Braden snatched it out of the air as he walked toward the trunk. "Go intercept Mom---she's opening the storm door on the porch."
"Braden, Chase?" Their mother's clear voice preceded her out the door and down the front steps. "What on earth are the two of you doing here?"
Braden waited until Chase started herding her back into the house before he clicked the trunk release. He carefully lifted the lid, keeping one eye on the front of the house, completely unprepared for Beth to push the lid out of his grasp and leap at him.
"Shit!" Braden swore as he struggled to get the Taser up and the safety released. Something solid and heavy glanced off the side of his head and sent him reeling, black spots ghosting across his vision.
What the hell did she hit me with?
He hit his knees, his fingers automatically probing at the blood pouring down the side of his face.
"Fuck." He tried to push to his feet and grab Beth, his fingers snagging the back of her shirt. She whirled on him, hands raised high, clutching a car jack like a mace, ready to swing again.
"Don't even..." Braden growled as she stepped in and swung at his head. He ducked beneath the blow and leaped at her knees, falling short as she scrambled back. She kept her weapon raised against him as she backpedaled, keeping the road to her back and scanning wildly for an escape route.
Braden saw the moment she realized they were isolated. She tightened her jaw and widened her stance. Regripping the jack, she lifted her chin as if to say bring it on.
Braden felt Chase approach him on his right, circling in to cut her off from the driveway and the road beyond. The moment her eyes went to his brother, Braden lunged again, throwing his body into her and bearing her to the ground.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Slowly, Braden pulled back, straddled her hips and rolled her to face him. She struggled for breath beneath him, eyes dazed and glassy. She forced out a sound---half sob, half battle cry---and tried to swing the jack at his head again.
"Stop it, Beth," he commanded, catching her wrist before the blow connected.
Clearly exhausted, Beth went limp and the jack clattered to the pavement. Finally, resignation. The expression on her face hit him like a physical blow.
Don't go there.
Frustrated, he forced himself to look away. He hoisted them both to their feet and began to half drag, half carry her toward the house.
"Braden Anthony Edwards."
Braden's cringed at the use of his full name. His mother stood on the porch, stance wide, hands on her hips, pummeling him with a stare of disapproval. The idle onlooker would have seen a petite woman in her mid-fifties sporting a modern blond bob, fashionable jeans and a bright green polo shirt smudged with flour. Braden recognized her for what she was: a five-foot-four-inch pixie with a temper to rival Angie's.
"Hi, Mom."
"Don't you hi, Mom me!" His mother matched his stride as he dragged Beth toward the door. "Explain yourself, immediately."
"Not now, Mom." Braden huffed. Beth became a dead weight against him. He braced for the incoming explosion of yelling and heaved her over his shoulder.
"Gently!" His mother's rebuke came, sharp enough to cut steel. "Now explain yourself. You pulled that poor girl out of the trunk of your car. The trunk, Braden!"
"Yeah, yeah." Braden rolled his eyes at Chase and stomped through the door. "Ow!" Braden winced at the sharp pinch his mother applied to the back of his arm.
"Mind your tone."
Braden tried to ignore Chase's laughter and let a grim smile touch his lips when Chase choked; apparently their mother had turned on him.
Braden shifted Beth on his shoulder as he reached for the door to the basement. She could stay down there until they figured out what to do with her. He hadn't opened the door more than a few inches when it slammed back into the frame, his mother's palm pressed against it. Sighing, Braden turned to face her.
"Let me just get her downstairs. I'll explain everything to you and Dad after that, okay?" When his mother didn't respond, Braden pulled the door open. "Where is Dad, by the way?"
"In town with Lucy," she answered, her tone clipped. Braden felt her eyes boring disapproving holes into his back as he descended the stairs.
Whatever. I can't deal with her right now.
"When you're done, get back up to the kitchen. I'm going to call Michael. He can come out and take a look at your head." She turned and started down the hall, tossing a comment over her shoulder. "Although I know full well he won't be able to do anything about it, thick as it is."
The basement was just smaller than the footprint of the house. The majority of it was a family room. He'd spent a good portion of his youth down here, playing pool or soundly beating his brothers at video games on the old big screen television that used to sit where a forty-two-inch plasma now resided. There was one small bedroom with an adjoining bathroom, though they hardly ever used it. Guests typically stayed upstairs, or sprawled out on the sectional in front of the TV. The bedroom had been an afterthought when his dad had finished out the basement. He'd built the room in a corner with no windows and installed a few dead bolts on the door. More than one wolf had skulked around their property, a few threatening their family, but Beth was the first to stay in the house.
Braden dropped Beth onto the double bed. Her eyes remained closed, but whether she'd passed out from exhaustion or was just ignoring him, he couldn't tell. He switched on the bedside lamp and watched, transfixed despite himself, as the light spilled across her face. She had a bruise forming between her temple and the top of her cheek, next to a small cut mostly hidden in her hair. Had he been responsible for it? Or did it explain the blood he'd seen when she'd first come running out of her apartment? Braden's gut clenched, unsure which scenario bothered him more---Markko hitting her or being responsible for hurting her himself.
He pulled the door shut behind him and flicked the dead bolts into place. His head already throbbed thanks to Beth; he didn't need her to set his mind racing in circles, too. He'd rather face his mother.
Ascending the stairs, Braden made his way down the hall and through the family room, into the open kitchen. His mother stood at the counter, beating something to death with a rolling pin, occasionally glancing out the huge window that overlooked a portion of their driveway and the expanse of woods surrounding their home.
"Where's Chase?"
"Waiting for your father on the porch. He's five minutes away."
Braden pulled out one of the barstools crowded around the large granite island in the middle of the kitchen and resisted the urge to curse. His cowardly brother had fled to the relative safety of the porch and left Braden to deal with their mother on his own.
Giving up on whatever she was brutalizing on the counter, she washed and dried her hands and stomped out of the room. She stormed back in and slammed a large plastic toolbox on the counter next to him, popped the lid and rummaged through the first aid supplies.
"I'm waiting." She tugged on a pair of gloves, twisted off the top of some disinfectant, and tore into a package of sterile pads.
"Don't worry about it. As soon as Dad gets home we'll take care of it."
"Don't be ridiculous."
He hissed as she slapped the disinfectant soaked gauze against his head.
"When you pull a half dead woman out of the trunk of your car I am most certainly going to worry about it. What on earth did you do to her?"
"Her? What did I do to her?" Braden asked, temper flaring. He caught his mother's wrist before she could press any more alcohol to his head.
"That woman hit me over the head with a jack, a car jack, Mom! Hell, I'm bleeding all over your kitchen and you're worried about what I did to her?"
Un-fucking-believable.
She jerked her wrist out of his hand, tilted his chin and forced the gauze against his head before he could move. "You'll watch your language in this house, Braden Edwards. And you'll explain to me exactly how that young woman came to be in the trunk of your car. And you'll keep your temper under control while you do it."
"I'd like to hear the answer to that as well." Braden's father strode into the kitchen. "Hi." As was his custom, his father brushed a gentle kiss across his mother's cheek in greeting. Turning, he tilted Braden's head to the side, inspecting the cut along his temple. "Better call Mike. That's gonna need stitches."
"I already have." His mother's voice softened a little in response to his father's proclamation about the stitches.
"Oh. My. God."
Braden groaned as his twenty-two-year-old kid sister bounced into the room, tossing her gym bag onto one of the barstools next to him.
"Did I hear Chase right?" Lucy asked, as usual, practically bouncing with barely restrained energy. "Did you bring a woman home in your trunk? What? Couldn't get your girlfriend to meet the parents any other way?"
Something in Braden's expression must have given away how close to the mark Lucy was because she burst out laughing. "Oh my God! You did not bring the girl you've been seeing home in the trunk of your car?" When he didn't respond, Lucy looked around, eyes landing on Chase, who'd followed her into the kitchen. "Chase?"
And Chase, the bastard, who'd never been able to deny Lucy anything, smiled.
Lucy dissolved into a fit of laughter. "I always said you'd have to club a woman on the head and toss her over your shoulder to get her home with you."
"That's enough, Lucy." Their mother's warning effectively silenced her. "Braden, start explaining while we wait for Michael to get out here."
Knowing there'd be no peace until the entire story was divulged, Braden briefly explained how he knew Beth, then gave as detailed an accounting as he could of the events of the day. Thankfully, his father was already aware of Markko's presence, as well as Jason's death, which meant the rest of his family knew, as well.
Braden's father broke the silence that descended over the kitchen when Braden finished relaying everything.
"You do a background check?" The question shot across the room to Chase.
"Yes, sir. I'm hoping we'll have a detailed history tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest." The doorbell rang, interrupting Chase.
"That'll be Mike. I'll go let him in." Lucy slipped out the room, heading for the front door.
"I can call my contact and see if he can speed things up on the background check," Chase offered.
"If it has to, it'll keep until tomorrow." Braden's father settled his large hand on his shoulder, but whether it was a show of sympathy or support Braden wasn't sure. Either way, he didn't like it.
"Look, I'm going to let Michael stitch me up, then head home. You guys can handle it from here." The last thing he wanted to do was spend the night under the same roof as Beth. As far as he was concerned, the more highway he could stretch between them the better.
"Absolutely not." When his mother had left the kitchen, Braden wasn't sure. But she strode back in with a stack of clean towels and fresh bed linens. "You'll have Michael take a look at you, and then you'll take these down to Beth." She plopped the stack of towels onto the open stool next to him.
"You can't be serious." Braden looked incredulously at his mother, then to his father, who only shrugged; he wasn't going to argue with her.
"Of course I am. Until we have a definitive reason to believe differently, she's a guest in this house. You'll stay here and see this through. Bad enough if you're wrong about her---you won't abandon her to strangers on top of it." His mother leveled a knowing glance in his direction. "You've got a deep enough hole to dig your way out of as it is. A Taser? Honestly!"
Braden stared, wide-eyed and flabbergasted. "That was Chase!"
"Regardless, you pulled her out of the trunk of your car. You'll not be leaving her here alone. Am I understood?"
"Fine," Braden muttered.
Mike strode into the room in gym shorts and a T-shirt, dropping the small bag of medical supplies he always kept handy on the counter. "You know, one of these days, it'd be nice if you called me for a normal reason. It's always come wrap my ribs, Mike, or come sew up my head, Mike. Just once do you think you could call with something like, Hey, Mike, I got courtside seats for the game tonight, or hey Mike, I'm going camping for the weekend, care to join?"
"Hi, honey. Stay for dinner tonight." Braden's mother wrapped Mike into a big hug before stepping back to pull dishes out of the dishwasher.
"Now, see? That's what I like to hear." Mike tilted Braden's head right and left, then let out a long, low whistle. "What the hell she hit you with?" Amusement tinted his voice, alerting Braden to the fact that Lucy had filled him in on what she no doubt thought were the funny parts.
"Car jack."
"Must have been a glancing blow, or it would've done more damage."
"Yeah. Lucky me."
Braden put off the trip down to the basement for as long as he could, lounging on the couch with a towel-wrapped ice pack pressed to his head. Unfortunately, the moment he and Chase started arguing over what to watch on television, his mother pronounced him fit enough to take the linens, a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of water down to Beth. No amount of protesting had dissuaded her and now he found himself outside the locked door, wishing for all the world to be brave enough to hide the sheets, wolf down the sandwiches and water, and tell his mother he'd done as she asked.
Loath as he was to deal with Beth, Braden knew his mother would know if he didn't. Then there would be shouting from his mother, laughing from his brother and sister and a stern admonishment to just do what your mother wants from his father. And he'd be right back down here.
Best to just get it over with.
The locks sounded unnaturally loud as he flicked them open and the creak of the door filled his ears as he stepped into the small room. Shoulders he hadn't realized were tense for another assault---God only knew what she'd found in here to wield at his head---relaxed when he realized she hadn't moved. Was she unconscious? Asleep? Braden stepped closer. Every line of her body was pulled taut, though whether due to anger or fear he wasn't certain.
The silence surged uncomfortably between them. Even though she kept her back to him, he was certain she tracked every move he made.
"My mother insisted I bring you down some clean sheets and towels. There's a shower through the door across from you."
No response.
Fine.
He dropped the stack of linens on the end of the bed. "I also brought you some sandwiches and a bottle of water." Frustrated, he slammed the plate down on the nightstand. Satisfaction surged through him when her shoulders jumped.
Braden couldn't help but goad another reaction out of her. "Nothing to say?"
"Did you expect a thank you?"
He latched onto the rage in her choked response. "No. I think we've established common decency is beyond your grasp," he snarled.
She jerked up and twisted around, throwing a hateful glare in his direction. "Beyond my grasp?"
That got her moving.
She looked like an angry cat after a bath, hair matted to her forehead, eyes narrowed, ready to hiss and spit in his direction. He forced himself to ignore the tear tracks that stained her cheeks. Refocusing on his anger, Braden sneered, "I'd hardly expect a thank-you from a woman who lied her way into my bed. Tell me, Beth, did you enjoy it? Spreading your legs for me, then trotting back to Markko? Did he reward you like a well-trained bitch?" As the words crossed his lips, he reached to pull them back.
Confusion crossed her face first, then anger mottled her cheeks and filled her eyes.
"Get out." Her anguished cry pierced his anger and plunged into his chest, stealing his breath.
"Beth..."
"Get out!" He narrowly ducked the plate of sandwiches she flung at his head.
Unsure what else to do, he left. He leaned back against the door, suddenly exhausted, the anger that had been maintaining him drained away, leaving a hollow void of disappointment behind.
The things I said...
Too late to take them back. Now his words stood between them, as solid as the door at his back. The cries filtering out from the basement room slammed against his heart, then drifted down and settled, low and leaden, in his gut.
"Got the background check." Chase dropped a stack of papers next to Braden's morning coffee.
"And?" Braden asked, resisting the urge to leaf through the documents. Possible scenarios had kept him up half the night, dragging him around in circles.
"The report has a few gaps." His dad poured himself the last of the coffee, glanced into the hallway and reached into the back of a cabinet, withdrawing a few packets of sugar. "Your mother's taken all the fun out of my diet. She thinks she's replaced all the sugar with a crappy imitation."
Braden smiled over the rim of his cup, palmed the wrappers off the counter and disposed of the evidence. "Gaps?"
"Right. First, as far as we can tell, she was pretty straight with you about a lot of things."
"Apparently not the ones that mattered."
"Well, she was honest about who she was." Chase straddled one of the high-backed bar stools, rocking it forward onto two legs. "Her full name is Elizabeth Williams. We think she used to go by Liz."
"Uh-huh."
Chase plucked the report from the counter, thumbing through the pages as he rattled off mundane facts about her life. "Twenty-five, degree in architecture from Boston University, her mother died when she was fifteen, no father, some family friends took her in."
"Skip to the part where she started working with Markko." Braden set his teeth and crossed his arms, the drip-hiss of fresh coffee hitting the empty carafe reflecting his temper.
Chase and his father exchanged a look.
"We're not sure she is," his dad interjected.
Fuck. Just fuck.
"Considering I saw her markings, I find that hard to believe," Braden argued, forcing the words past his rigid jaw.
"Yeah, that stumped us, too." His father pulled out a chair next to Chase. "As far as we can tell, she's got no blood ties to their family."
"Then she was bitten."
"That in and of itself is unusual. More so considering she had no reason to cross paths with the Bolveks."
"Reason or not, she crossed their path at some point."
"Yeah," Chase interrupted. "And we think we know when." He looked back through the report before continuing. "Beth accepted a scholarship to pursue her Master's of Architecture at Boston, but she never attended. We wondered why."
"What's your point?"
"Turns out she spent some time in the hospital. Then, she checked into a private inpatient program," his dad explained.
"Drug addiction?" Even as Braden suggested it, the idea scraped against what he knew of Beth.
Or what I thought I knew.
"No. Although, we don't have the specifics." His father paused, gathering his thoughts. "The clinic specializes in post-traumatic stress, schizophrenia and a variety of other mental health issues. She checked herself out after about a month, continued outpatient care for another three, then up and moved to the West Coast. We still aren't sure why."
"Where's the connection?" How did the pieces fit? A mental patient? It was hard to believe.
"We weren't sure if there was a connection," Chase said. "But I had our guy dig a little deeper, look closer at the time between her college graduation and when she checked into the hospital."
"Turns out, after she graduated, she and a friend..." Chase referenced the papers again, "...Rachel Collier, took a graduation trip abroad, backpacking through Europe. Details are scarce, but the trip ended early. Beth checked into the hospital less than a week later. She didn't even attend the funeral."
"Her friend died?"
Chase nodded in response.
"Let me get this straight. You think she was turned and her friend was killed while on vacation? You can't be serious?"
Chase's direct look was all the answer he needed.
"Morning." Their mother walked in, Lucy hot on her heels, both dressed for the Pilates they did together three times a week. She poured a fresh cup of coffee and grabbed the artificial sweetener off the counter and headed for one of the open barstools next to her husband. She plucked his coffee from between his hands and replaced it with a fresh mug, pushing the artificial sweetener toward him. "You're supposed to be watching your sugar levels."
"What makes you think I'm not?" He grumbled as he reached for the artificial sweetener.
"Because I know you." His mother smiled serenely as she passed his mug to Lucy. "And because I know you think I don't know about your stash of sugar packets."
"You two headed out for Pilates this morning?" Chase asked, changing the subject.
"Nah. Just a quick set on the porch---it's nice out this morning." Lucy leaned against the counter and pulled one of her legs back behind her, stretching out the muscles. "What are you guys talking about so seriously this early?"
"Beth's background check came in." Chase supplied.
"And the verdict? Friend or foe?" Lucy asked as she arched her back and pulled her leg behind her head.
"Not sure yet." Chase gently shoved her, forcing her to put both feet on the ground. "It's creepy when you do that."
Lucy rolled her eyes and pulled the other leg behind her. "Whatever. So, how long's Braden gonna keep his girlfriend locked in the basement?"
"She's not my girlfriend." Braden's lips pulled back in a snarl.
"Sure, Tarzan."
Braden gnashed his teeth, the muscles in his jaw popping as Lucy's smile widened. She opened her mouth to say something else, no doubt at his expense, but abruptly snapped it shut again.
"That's enough, Lucy." Their mother's warning cut across the kitchen.
Braden automatically stepped away from the comforting hand his mother placed on his shoulder. Her sympathy grated against him worse than Lucy's teasing.
For God's sake, I'm fine.
He'd sort out this mess and head home. Regardless of the outcome. End of story.
Braden pushed away from the island counter and ignored his mother's concerned expression and Lucy's amusement. "Can we get this over with? I have things to do back home."
"Oh yes, let's." Lucy bounced back and forth, vibrating with the same sort of excitement she exhibited every Christmas morning.
"I think this is something best handled by Braden and me." Lucy's excitement dimmed at their father's proclamation. "You two enjoy your workout. I'll fill you in later."
"But Dad..."
"No buts. Go with your mom. Braden, let's head downstairs."
He followed his father out of the kitchen and down the hallway. "You don't need me for this."
His father paused at the top of the stairs, curious eyes seeking Braden's. "No, I don't." His expression grew quiet and the lines around his eyes and mouth tightened seriously. "But she might."
"You don't think she's working with them, do you?"
"Chase had some interesting insights to share last night. I don't want to jump to any conclusions." He pushed open the door and started down the stairs. "You shouldn't, either."
"Too late." Part of him hoped Beth turned out to be the deviant little slut he'd accused her of being. Bitterness flooded his mouth as the bottom of his stomach turned over and plummeted, revealing the thought for the lie it was.
\*\*\*
Beth turned on her heel, counted the fifteen steps that took her across the room and wished again for something to distract her. She'd woken a few hours ago, her nightmares so intense her eyes felt bruised and her throat scraped and seared with every breath. The third time she'd screamed herself awake she'd thrown herself into a pace, keeping one step ahead of the exhaustion that dogged her footsteps. Anything was better than dreaming.
She'd swept the room more than once for anything useful, anything that could help her. Unfortunately, the room yielded less than the car. The furniture was too heavy to break apart, there weren't any windows and there was nothing in the bathroom save a few towels and some toiletries. So she'd paced, made the bed with the fresh linens and recited ingredients to all of Angie's recipes. She'd sat on the edge of the bed once and dozed off while reciting the steps to making cranberry-orange scones. She hadn't left her feet since.
Someone knocked against the door as the dead bolts slid back. An older version of Braden walked through the door, followed closely by Braden himself. Beth stopped pacing and took several steps toward the opposite wall, assessing them as she placed the bed between them.
The resemblance between them struck her first. They shared the same sharp jaw and slightly dimpled chin, the same hairline and the same wide mouth. The elder even had two small wrinkles that marked his dimples at the corners of his mouth; no doubt he had the same disarming smile. As far as she could tell, the physical differences between them were few and subtle.
Their body language, however, couldn't have been more different. Braden stood near the door, his expression sullen, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze raking over the room, determinedly avoiding Beth. The man who could only be his father strode into the room and took a seat in the small armchair by the bed, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time.
"Please, Ms. Williams, sit down." He gestured for her to take a seat on the bed across from him.
Beth weighed her options briefly, opting to sit stiffly on the edge of the bed, carefully beyond his reach.
I won't give them the satisfaction of acting like some cornered, defenseless animal.
"My name is Matthew Edwards." He leaned forward in his chair, as though he'd extend his hand in greeting. Instead he gave a wry grin and said, "I believe you're already acquainted with my son."
Beth followed Braden in her peripheral vision as he settled into the desk chair, but she refused to turn her head to meet his gaze.
"I apologize for the manner of your arrival," the older man said, looking her over.
Beth shivered under his thorough inspection. She was a mess. But no matter how tempting, she hadn't been willing to undress and take a shower last night. Embarrassed, she pushed her hair out of her face, then caught herself and pulled her hands down to her lap.
What do I care what they think of my appearance? They're responsible for it!
"Do you need anything? A doctor?" His focused on her hands as he asked.
Beth glanced down and realized he was staring at the damage inflicted by her struggles with the zip ties.
"I'm fine." Beth pressed her lips into a grim line and picked a point over his shoulder to focus on.
"Alright. We'll come back to that." The sound of rustling paper filled the air before he continued. "We've compiled a thorough report on your past, Ms. Williams. We're hoping you can piece together some information for us."
Beth bristled and met his gaze with a steely look. Her past was no one else's business; they'd had no right to go digging through her personal history.
"I don't have anything to say to you." Beth forced herself to remain still when Braden surged out of his chair and crossed the room in four long strides.
"Don't be stubborn," he said, his voice rough and frustrated.
She pressed her lips together. Petty or not, whatever made his life more difficult was fine with her.
"You owe us an explanation."
Owed them?
Beth tilted her chin and met his angry gaze with a stubborn one of her own. "I don't owe you anything."
"The hell you don't!"
"That's enough." Mr. Edwards' voice sliced through the tension mounting in the room. Braden clenched his hands but kept his mouth shut. Beth followed suit.
"I certainly understand your reluctance to speak with us." Mr. Edwards' warm brown eyes sought hers. "But I'm afraid I must insist."
Beth straightened her back and clenched her hands in her lap, coolly staring at the man across from her. His gaze remained warm and open, almost friendly. But the tone of his voice and the press of his mouth said he intended to have his answers.
"Fine." Resolved, Beth kept her focus on the man in front of her, excluding Braden from her awareness as much as she could. "What, exactly, can I clear up for you?" Beth had no idea she could produce such chilly sarcasm.
"Thank you." He briefly flipped through the papers he had, though Beth could tell by the speed of the shuffling that he wasn't looking for anything so much as where to start. "We understand you grew up in Boston?"
"That's right."
"It says here your mother died when you were fifteen, but we don't have any information about your father." He let the question hang in the air.
"I never met him."
Short and to the point. Don't volunteer anything.
"Never?"
"No."
"Okay. What about after your mother died, where did you go?"
"Your background check didn't tell you?" Beth asked, angry and unwilling to give them anything on her friends and family that they didn't already know.
"I'm more interested in what you have to say." He relaxed back into his chair, a mannerism so like his son, it felt as though she was speaking to Braden's future self. "My mother made arrangements for me before she died." When she was certain he wasn't going to accept that as an answer she continued. "I moved in with family friends. I finished high school. Went to college. End of story."
"Right. The Colliers." His face softened again. "They had a daughter about your age, didn't they?"
"They don't have anything to do with this!" Vibrating with hurt and anger, Beth surged to her feet, fists clenched. She'd be damned if she allowed this nightmare to be dragged back to their door.
"Please sit down." He uncurled from his relaxed position in the chair, but didn't rise. "I didn't mean to upset you." His gaze remained warm and steady, his voice calm, and Beth found it difficult to hold onto her anger. "And I've no intention of bothering them, unless I can't get the answers I need from you." He let the threat hang between them.
Collapsing back onto the bed, Beth tried to slow her racing heart. She pushed her hair back from her face, ignoring the way her fingers trembled against her skin.
"Rachel. Her name was Rachel."
"The two of you were close?"
"Yes."
Sisters.
"I'm sorry. I understand she died a few years ago."
Beth squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the sincerity in his voice. "Yes." She wasn't even sure if the word had left her lips, but he must have heard her because he reached across the space between them and gently squeezed her hands.
"We need to know what happened, Elizabeth. We have our suspicions, but we don't have the details."
"I can't." She didn't think she'd survive if she had to tell the story. She hadn't spoken of it to anyone since those first few weeks in the hospital. She'd put it away, ignored it for so long...
"I can't." Her voice cracked and shame colored her cheeks. She felt the sting of tears and clenched her eyes furiously against them.
"Alright. Why don't I fill you in on what we know? You can correct any details we've gotten wrong."
Beth nodded and focused on the carpet between her feet as his voice filled the room with everything she didn't want to think about.
"We know you graduated from Boston University, cum laude, with a degree in architecture." He paused and squeezed her hand again. "Well done, by the way."
Beth nodded. It seemed a lifetime ago.
"Shortly after graduation, you and Rachel went abroad. Backpacking through Europe?"
"Yeah." The word was thick across her tongue, as though her entire mouth was swelling so she wouldn't have to speak of it.
"Now here's where we start to speculate. We know you were in Europe for a few weeks, but came home early." He paused, curling his fingers around hers. It shocked her to realize he'd never let go. "We know Rachel died." Her fingers flexed involuntarily in his hand.
Beth forced open her eyes as Rachel's lifeless brown gaze swam to the forefront of her mind.
"How did Rachel die, Beth?" His voice was soft and kind. The question sliced through her heart like a blade.
A tear burned down the side of her cheek as she shook her head against the question.
"Who did you meet in Europe?"
Beth violently pulled her hand from his. "I can't do this. It doesn't matter." She was vaguely aware of Braden up and moving on the periphery of her vision, but quickly shut him out again. It was better when she forgot he was there at all.
"It matters." Strong hands gripped her elbows and held her in place on the edge of the bed. "Markko tracked you here. He wants something from you. We need to know what. Was Markko the one you met in Europe? Did he kill Rachel?" He was quiet for a long time, then asked in a low voice, "Did he bite you?"
"No." Beth pulled out of his grasp.
"He's not going to go away." Braden's voice, rough with something she didn't recognize, cut through her. "We can help you."
Beth felt the bed dip next to her, but refused to look at Braden. She shifted toward the headboard, keeping as much distance between them as possible.
"Braden's right. If Markko's here for you, he won't give up. And you can't run forever. Let us help you."
Hedged between a wall and two men she didn't trust, Beth turned her options over in her head as fast as she could. A part of her desperately wanted to believe that, despite everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours Braden wanted to help her. Confusion pressed heavily against her mind. Nothing had gone as she'd anticipated since she'd been shoved in the trunk of his car. They hadn't hurt her. And she wasn't dead.
Small blessings, right?
But Braden, and she suspected much of his family, were werewolves. Every instinct she had told her not to trust them. To fear them.
Beth struggled with what to do. She couldn't force herself to trust them. Not completely. But she wasn't stupid, either. Markko had brought this nightmare to her doorstep, literally. She couldn't handle this on her own. Not anymore.
"Markko didn't bite me." She sucked in a breath, bracing herself for the words to come. "But he was there."
Two Years Ago...
"Alright. That's it." Rachel slumped to the ground on a heavy sigh. "My feet refuse to carry me another inch."
Liz backtracked to Rachel's side, scanning the horizon, trying to determine how much daylight remained.
"I swear to God, if I never see another forest again, it'll be too soon."
Liz smiled and sat next to Rachel. "And here I was thinking we could trek through Yosemite next year."
"Not on your life." Rachel pulled her shoes off and massaged the balls of her feet. "Can we rest a while?" Rachel asked, as though dreading Liz's answer.
"Yeah. A breather sounds good." As far as Liz could tell, they'd covered a lot of ground. They'd taken Allison's advice and followed the water downstream, walking in the clear space between the tree line and the water's edge. A few hours back, the stream had widened, picked up momentum and turned into a narrow river.
As the water had continued to widen, the embankment grew steeper and more slippery with every twist and turn, forcing them to slow down and pay attention to their footing. Rachel had been losing steam for nearly twenty minutes when she'd slipped and gone down hard, catching her weight on her wrist. Tears instead of cursing followed. Liz had carefully examined her wrist, lightly sprained at the most, then tried to haul her to her feet. Rachel had refused.
The shouting match that followed was the worst Liz could ever remember having with Rachel. She'd tried the tactic Allison had suggested and brutally detailed what was hunting them and what waited for them if they stopped moving. Resignation had settled heavily over the fear on Rachel's face. When Liz threatened to leave her, Rachel had closed her eyes and called her a liar.
Walking away was one of the hardest things Liz had ever done. Second only to the words she'd spoken before she left.
"I love you. And I'd do just about anything for you. But I will not... I will NOT sit here and wait for them to catch up with us. It's not in me, to sit here, waiting for death. I won't die a sniveling coward. Not even for you."
"Screw you." The answer was so defeated it galvanized Liz into walking away, tossing words like knives over her shoulder.
"If you could ask that of me, expect that of me... then you aren't the sister of my heart. She loved me too much."
Liz had walked away, tears of hurt and sorrow burning at her eyes, Rachel's stunned silence following her. But she'd forced herself to put one foot in front of the other until she was around a bend in the river and out of sight. She'd cried, harsh wracking sobs and wondered if she could leave Rachel to die. She'd never had to make the decision. Less than ten minutes later, Rachel walked up next to her, and said in a watery voice, "Let's go."
Conversation between them had been sparse and uncomfortable for the next couple of hours. Liz tried to keep the river in sight, but eventually the embankment grew too steep, forcing them into the tree line. Every now and then, she'd catch a glimpse of the sun off the water, or hear rapids through the trees. She wished she had an idea of how far they'd gone.
"What's the first thing you're going to do when we get home?"
The sudden question broke the silence around them. "What?"
"You know, the moment we find civilization, what are you going to do first?" Rachel kept her eyes closed and her cheek resting against her knees.
"I don't know...take a shower?"
One brown eye opened and regarded her with disdain. "Boring."
"I suppose you have a better answer?"
Rachel's eye closed and she gave a breathy sigh. "Right now I'm torn between getting a massage and pedicure or eating the biggest double cheeseburger I can find. With a chocolate shake. And fries. Chili-cheese fries. Yeah. Definitely chili-cheese fries." She licked her lips. "Or maybe a steak, with a huge baked potato. Loaded. Mountains of sour cream. Or..."
Liz shoved her over, forcing Rachel to uncurl from her sleepy position. "Shut up." She laughed. "I'm hungry enough already."
"Then come up with something better."
So many things sounded good. A soft pillow and a warm bed. A hot shower. Calling home. "Depends on where we are. I don't even know what country we're in."
"It's a fantasy, Lizzy. Turn off practical and dream a little." Rachel looked at her, humor dancing in her eyes. "Don't you have any imagination at all?"
Liz tilted her head back and closed her eyes, searching for a response.
"Hmm, well, if we're fantasizing..."
"Yes?"
"Guess I'll hop the first flight, call Ethan Fischer."
Liz rose as Rachel's disbelieving giggles filled the air around them. "You and Ethan? Right."
"What can I say, last time was great. He's good with his hands."
Rachel choked on her laughter. Liz gained her feet and resumed walking, wondering how long it would take Rachel to string words together.
"Last time?" Rachel squealed, falling in step in an instant. "Oh my God, how long has this been going on?"
Liz smiled and increased her pace. Only Rachel. Gossip motivated her where werewolves wouldn't.
"How long, Lizzy? I can't believe you didn't tell me!"
"About as long as you've been giving me a hard time about it." Liz smirked. "I don't tell you everything."
"I knew no one could study that much! I want all the details." Rachel pressed, Liz's personal life crowding out thoughts of fear or hunger.
\*\*\*
The sun's warm glow had kept the worst of the fear in the shadows, constantly on their heels but out of sight. Now that night blanketed the forest, the full moon lit their path, casting everything in shadows that lunged at them with talons of trees and branches. Liz pushed them harder and faster with every snapping twig and every swaying shadow.
The third time Rachel stumbled, she forced herself to stop.
"Need a break?" Liz leaned against the tree behind her, wondering if it would be better to try and climb a tree. Wait for daylight. The temperature continued to drop and they were both exhausted. She wasn't sure how much longer she could stay on her feet, let alone keep Rachel on hers.
"Yeah." Rachel slid down the trunk of a tree, groaning as she went.
A cool breeze picked up, rustling the trees and shrubs around them, and setting Liz's teeth and nerves on edge. The wind caught a distant howl, carrying it across God only knew what distance, raising the hair on the back of her neck. Rachel's wide brown eyes sought hers in the darkness.
"Should we get moving?"
"Are you up to it?"
Rachel heaved a sigh and pushed herself up. "If I have to be." Exhaustion saturated Rachel's movements. Even if she got up, she wasn't going to go far.
"Nah. That was faint. The wind probably carried it several miles." Liz rubbed her arms against the chill, hoping she was right.
Hopefully, a short break would reenergize them. Right now it took everything she had to stay focused on getting through the night. She didn't know what she would do when the sun crested the trees, revealing miles more of forest. They could wander for days. Weeks.
Liz shut down that line of thought.
Focus on something tangible.
She sat down next to Rachel, leaning into her, sharing her warmth.
Focus on the morning. Go from there.
Rachel's head hit her shoulder and Liz snapped her eyes open. She hadn't even been aware she'd closed them. Stretching her stiff legs out in front of her, cold dread slid into her mind, forcing her completely awake. How long had she slept?
She glanced down at her watch. Twenty minutes or so.
Thank God it wasn't longer.
"Rach, come on. We can't sleep yet."
Rachel's eyes blinked open.
"Come on, we need to get moving again."
"Already?"
"Yeah." Liz hoisted herself from the ground, groaning as aching muscles stretched and protested against the strain and cold. "Come on." She extended a hand to Rachel and pulled her to her feet.
They walked in silence for a long time, moonlight streaming through the trees, lighting their path. As they crested the top of a steep hill, Rachel stopped and bent at the waist, panting heavily. Liz understood why, her legs burned and cramped, every step forward reminded her harshly of every step behind her.
"I've got to rest, Lizzy." Rachel wheezed out. "I'm sorry. But I've got to take a break."
"Okay." Liz tried to get her bearings. She couldn't see or hear the river anymore. They needed to find it again. Not only did she hope it would lead to civilization, but it kept them from walking around in circles.
"Alright, you take a break. I'm going to take a look at what's up there," Liz said, pointing up the incline that rose to their left. "Maybe I can figure out which way to go."
"Okay." Rachel didn't move from where she leaned against a tree, her eyes closed and her face pale.
Liz gripped her elbow and shook her until she opened her eyes. "We'll take a break, Rach. But don't sit down and don't fall asleep, okay?"
Rachel's forehead furrowed and she shook her head.
"I know you're tired. But if you sit down your muscles are going to get cold and cramp again."
Rachel opened her eyes, but didn't respond.
"I know it's tempting to sit, but it's only going to hurt more when we get moving again. Rest, but stay on your feet, okay?" Liz pressed.
Rachel closed her eyes again and leaned more heavily into the tree behind her.
"Rachel?" Liz squeezed her arm, unwilling to leave until she'd extracted a promise.
"Fine."
Relieved, Liz stepped back. "I'm not going far."
"Yeah, fine."
"I won't be long."
Rachel didn't respond but she stayed on her feet.
Good enough.
It took her the better part of fifteen minutes to crest the top; she'd had to use her hands to pull herself up the top third of the hill in places to keep from slipping.
She stretched, breathed out hard, and watched her breath fog and float away on the air. Below her moonlight glinted and shined like light reflected off hammered silver. The river flowed, fast and wide beneath her, less than a half-mile away. She followed its snaking mass, tracking its path until it faded into the dark horizon.
Just before the river passed beyond the range of her vision, two tiny spots of yellow, not unlike a predator's night-eyes appeared, seeming to float above the water, slowly growing larger.
A car! A bridge, unidentifiable in the dark, connected the two river banks.
Relieved and excited, renewed energy surged through her. The terrain didn't look too bad. If they pressed hard they could probably reach the bridge, and hopefully help, in an hour or so.
Galvanized, Liz turned and started the climb down, eager to finally be able to give Rachel more than hollow encouragements. As she began to navigate the steepest part of the terrain, Rachel's scream pierced the air. Startled, Liz slipped. She snatched desperately for something to stop her, the plants and roots tearing up her palms before she snagged something.
She unclenched her fingers and carefully crawled down backwards, using her hands to grip vegetation and keep her balance. Heavy silence descended, pressing against her, forcing her adrenaline to surge, her breathing was thunderous to her own ears. Rachel wasn't screaming. Nothing moved. Insects didn't chirp. Bushes and trees ceased rustling. It was as though time stopped.
Screaming erupted again, closer this time, and Liz forced herself faster. The first scream had been terrified. This one was agonized. And it didn't stop.
"Rachel!"
No answer. The screaming died again.
"Rachel!" Rachel's screams terrified her. Her lack of response horrified her.
"Rachel, answer me." Nothing. No crying. No yelling. Just heavy silence. Liz hit level ground, pushed to her feet and took the remaining slope as fast as she dared, gravity adding momentum. She hit flat terrain hard and stumbled, but forced her feet to hold her. She searched wildly for any sign of Rachel.
Hysteria pressed against her, adding frenzy to her actions. Why had she left Rachel alone? They'd sworn they'd stay together. Desperate, Liz called out again. "Rachel!"
"Lizzy..." Rachel answered, struggling with the final syllables as if speaking was the hardest thing she'd ever done.
Liz spun toward the voice. Less than twenty feet away, Rachel struggled up from the forest floor. Her agonized expression conveyed her disbelief more effectively than any words she could have spoken. Blood painted the front of her sweater, flowing from a gaping wound across her collarbone. Her face stood out, an unnaturally white beacon in the middle of the forest. She trembled as she tried to stay on her feet.
Shock. She's going into shock.
Rachel stumbled forward and crashed to her knees, jerking Liz into action. She sprung forward, Rachel's name on the tip of her tongue even as a wolf, huge and snarling leaped against Rachel. The beast's bulk dwarfed her, obscuring everything but the sight of jaws closing around her throat. "No!"
Liz rushed forward, searching the darkness and the forest floor for Rachel and the wolf. Stumbling, she went down hard. The knees of her jeans ripped against the brush and her hands collided with something soft and warm.
Rachel!
Liz curled her fingers into Rachel's shoulder and flipped her onto her back.
Brown eyes, usually swimming with the emotion of the moment, stared sightlessly into her own. Liz choked on a sob as she let her eyes travel over the face of her best friend. She ran fingers along the side of her cheek, hoping for a response, anything at all. Her fingers slid through something warm. Blood. So much blood. Even as she gagged, Liz pressed her hands hard against the shredded mess that used to be Rachel's neck.
"No, no, no, no, no." Tears rolled down her cheeks as flesh slipped between her fingers.
"That won't help." Heavily accented English cut the air.
Liz sought the voice in the darkness, vaguely surprised she didn't recognize it. Ivan. Markko's younger brother stood, seemingly fascinated, a few feet away. He wiped a hand against his human face, smearing blood from his mouth across his cheek and against the back of his arm.
"I took her throat." He said it as though it mystified him. "It was... interesting."
Liz watched, horrified, as an amused and bloody grin spread across his face. "My first hunt. My first human kill." He paced forward. "I've killed boar. And deer, of course. But this..." He swept a hand in their direction, "It was everything Markko promised. Primal. Exhilarating."
"I wonder..." His gaze traveled curiously over his fingers as he flexed and curled them. "I wonder. Hands in place of teeth. Human instead of beast. How does it compare?"
Liz forced herself to slide away from Rachel, groping the earth behind her as he lunged. Her fingers curled around wood as he overwhelmed her, forcing her into the forest floor.
"Lucky you're here, no?" He smiled at her, every bit the animal that had murdered Rachel. "Which kill will I enjoy more?"
Calloused hands wrapped around her throat. Liz slammed the stick in her hand as hard as she could against his side. He laughed as it broke like a twig against rock. His grin widened and his grip tightened, seizing the air from her lungs as she kicked wildly beneath him, groping the forest around them with blind hands.
"This is good." His eyes sparkled with excitement. "Your panic..." He groaned and thrust forward, the proof of his sadistic excitement brushing her thigh.
Her fingers curled around smooth stone, frantically digging at the edges, prying it from the earth.
"Your blood struggles beneath my hands. Hers spilled against my tongue. Will it taste the same?" He tilted his head and his face shifted, lengthened and pointed into a grotesque combination of man and wolf. He forced her head to the side, dove forward and buried long canines into the juncture of her shoulder and neck.
Pain and fury surged from her throat as teeth tore into her flesh. Liz slammed the rock into the side of his head with all of the remaining strength she possessed. His hands immediately retracted and she sucked the cool forest air into her lungs as she swung again. He toppled sideways, groaning in pain instead of pleasure. She rolled to her knees, struggling for breath as the world spun around her. She didn't wait for it to stop.
She swung.
Again.
And again.
Until he couldn't laugh. Or groan. Or move.
\*\*\*
"Was he dead?" Braden asked.
"I..." Beth's voice cracked. She took a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth, willing the metallic tang of blood from her memory. "I don't know." A tissue pressed into her palm. "I don't remember a lot after that."
"How did you get out of the woods?"
Beth struggled for the details. She remembered walking. Frozen and numb for what felt like hours. But that was all. "I don't know. I found a road. All I remember after that is headlights bearing down on me." Breaks squealing and people shouting frantically emerged, then faded into her memory. "Everything's blurry for almost a week after that. I must have answered some questions. They were able to find...they found her. Put me on a plane home. Other than that..."
She jerked her arm away from the hand Braden extended. He'd tried a couple of times to touch her or comfort her as she relayed the story. Each time, she'd jerked away from him. She'd seen his expressions. She knew it hurt him.
I don't care.
"You were hospitalized for some time..." Mr. Edwards's voice trailed off. He'd been a calm, steady influence through the entire conversation. "We understand you spent some time being treated for mental wounds."
Beth laughed, harsh and grating. He put it so delicately. "They thought I'd lost my mind." She'd been manic in her insistence of what had happened. "I swore to everyone who would listen that Rachel had been murdered by werewolves. Everyone thought I'd suffered a psychotic break." Beth struggled to regain the artificial calm that had blanketed her as she'd told the story.
"That must have been very difficult." Mr. Edwards replaced the tissue she'd shredded with a fresh one.
"Yeah." The hardest part had been seeing the Colliers' horrified expressions. Watching Mr. Collier's eyes shutter as he comforted his wife every time she sobbed when Beth had to be sedated for another paranoia-induced rant. "They admitted me for my own protection. It took weeks before I was calm enough to start therapy."
"They talked, over and over and over again, about how I was blurring two events in my head. Said I was trying to rationalize the trauma." She rubbed her arms and wrists, the feel of the safety restraints heavy against her skin. "It took awhile, but they talked me into their version of events. Rachel and I had been kidnapped and set loose to be hunted in the woods. But after that..." Beth squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed a weary hand across her forehead. "After that, they said a wolf had gotten to Rachel. Insisted wolves were common in the area. Natural night hunters. They said I was blurring the two events together and creating a wild story to cope with her death."
"You believed them?"
Braden's soft question plowed into her. "Of course I did!"
He jerked back as if the force of her anger had been a physical blow. "They were perfectly logical. Werewolves don't exist. They're figments of our imagination. Caricatures of fear. When that didn't convince me, they pointed out that I'd been bitten. I had two dozen stitches and a round of rabies vaccines to prove it." Her anger abandoned her in a whoosh, leaving her hollow and exhausted. "A month passed. A full moon come and gone. I never changed. So logically..."
"It's one of many misconceptions. It often takes months for the symptoms to manifest." Mr. Edwards leaned back into his chair, as if allowing her a little space to deal with the revelation. "Lycanthropy is like a disease in many regards, and like a disease, it takes time to incubate, to fully affect the body."
Beth glanced up. The question on the tip of her tongue must have been written on her face because she didn't have to voice it.
"There's no stopping it from taking hold. No cure once bitten."
Beth nodded and looked away, staring vacantly at the far wall. She hadn't thought there would be.
"How did you end up in Portland?" He left the and in my son's bed unvoiced.
Beth lifted her gaze and tilted her head.
I've got nothing to be ashamed of.
"I'd been attending outpatient therapy for months. I started trying to put my life back together. I went to the gym. Ate regular meals. Slept four or five hours at a stretch. I started considering getting a job or going back to school." Beth remembered those months, walking through the days like a wraith, barely existing.
"Then the full moon came again and I changed." Ghostly sensations of the terror that had ripped through her when the first fierce spasms of the shift wrenched her to the ground slid through her again. "I couldn't hide from it any longer. And I couldn't stay in Boston. It wasn't fair to Rachel's family. Less than a week later, I packed up my car and started across the country. I started going by Beth. I took seasonal jobs. Moved around a lot. Every time I'd get settled in a new city, start to know my way around, I'd get restless and leave again. I don't know why."
"You stuck to the big cities on the West Coast, right?" Braden interjected.
"I went to Denver first. Spent about a month looking for Allison. I'd hoped..." she shrugged.
"That you weren't alone," Mr. Edwards supplied. "You never found her?"
"No. So I moved to L.A., then San Francisco. Thought about trying San Diego, but came here instead." Beth caught Braden's gaze and let all of her hurt and anger swim across her face. "Portland was the first place I actually thought about staying. I liked working at Angie's, liked Angie and Marianne. And then I switched to the morning shift and you walked in, and I liked you, too." She felt heat infusing her cheeks and angry, betrayed tears burn at the corners of her eyes. She jerked her face away from him. "I had no idea."
Mr. Edwards nodded his assent, seeming to accept her words as truth. "I can at least shed a little light onto why you felt as restless as you did. It's fairly uncommon to find our kind in large cities. In fact, most of the North American Werewolf population resides in places like Alaska, Canada and the northwest portion of the U.S. There are also some small pockets and groups tucked in around the Rockies. Most of us aren't cut out for city life. It's too hectic. Too loud. Too closed in and polluted. It often results in that itchy, restless feeling you described. You probably mistook it for fear."
"Yeah." How many times had she jumped at shadows? How many nights had she been afraid to enter her apartment alone?
"I'd say that's natural. Portland probably felt more natural to you for two reasons. First, time was starting to distance the memories. You were becoming more relaxed. Right?"
She jerked her head once. How could she have been so stupid? Even if things hadn't turned out this way, what had she thought would happen? A normal life---with normal friends and normal relationships---was something she couldn't have. And deep down, she'd known it.
"The other reason is that for a city its size, Portland has done a remarkable job preserving the natural surroundings. The mountains as well as several state and national parks, lie just to the east, and there are an abundance of parks throughout the city. People like us, people balancing the wolf and everyday life, are drawn to cities like Portland. It's not surprising you were, too."
"Portland provided you a blend of security," Braden spoke up. "It soothed the instincts that told you to stay in large cities, to blend into the general population. It also satisfied the wolf's need to be near nature, near areas it would feel comfortable."
Beth burrowed her fingers through her hair and drew her knees to her chest. She didn't want to hear this. She didn't care about the wolf's needs.
"I'm afraid we owe you an apology, Elizabeth." Mr. Edwards stood and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder.
Beth allowed it, amazed she found it so easy to accept a friendly gesture from this man. Even as he stood above her, looking weary and wearing a kind smile, he managed to share some of his stillness.
Does he ever lose his temper?
"I hope you'll accept that we mean you no harm. But we knew Markko was in Portland and our families have a violent history." He moved toward the door, gently squeezing Braden's shoulder as he went. "When you began to shift, my boys responded as though you were an enemy. It was necessary, but I apologize all the same." He smiled a little and pulled the door open. "We'll do our best to make it up to you."
Stunned by his easy acceptance of her story, Beth cleared her throat. "I just want to go home."
The reassuring smile slipped from his face. "I'm afraid that I cannot allow that."
Beth rose to her feet, her fear surging back, burning hot in her stomach. "I've answered all of your questions. You have no right to keep me here."
"I understand. Truly I do. But I cannot in good conscience allow you to go while Markko remains a threat." He pulled the door open, as though the conversation was finished. "Braden will get you anything you need. Please make yourself at home. Take a warm shower. When you're done come upstairs, we'll have breakfast and I'll call Mike, our family doctor, to take a look at those hands."
Before Beth could protest that she didn't want a doctor, or breakfast, or a shower, or that she just wanted to get the fuck out of here, he closed the door. Frustrated, she turned her anger on Braden. "You can't keep me here. This is kidnapping!"
Braden rose and carefully took a step back toward the door. He looked her over as if he expected to see her attack him at any moment.
You deserve it, you bastard.
For the first time, Beth really looked at him. Regret showed in every line of his body and the flatness of his expression. A spectacular bruise covered his temple and a neat row of stitches marched into his hair. She couldn't restrain the grim smile that curled her lips.
He opened his mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut. Finally, he said, "I'm sorry." The surprise that crossed his features indicated that wasn't at all what he'd meant to say.
"I don't care." Beth's fingers curled into fists at her sides. "Sorry doesn't fix anything. I don't want to be anywhere near you."
His face pinched, as though the words truly hurt. Resigned, his shoulders dropped. "I won't let him hurt you."
"He hasn't hurt me in years."
Braden flinched, but didn't defend himself against the implication. "You've got fresh towels, I'll go see if I can find something of my sister's for you to wear."
He opened the door. "For what it's worth, Beth, I am sorry." He pulled the door shut behind him before she could form a reply.
She paced the room for several minutes, debating what to do. Finally, she reached for the door, testing the knob beneath her palm. It twisted in her hand and the door swung open. He hadn't locked her in. She stood in the threshold, paralyzed with indecision. She could leave, but even if she made it out of the house, she had no idea where she was.
And Markko was still out there. Waiting. She couldn't go back to her apartment, not even to get her Jeep.
She slammed the door and turned to the bathroom. For now, at least, she'd have to trust that Mr. Edwards would keep his promise. She had nowhere else to go.
Beth slung her borrowed lounge pants low on her hips and rolled the sleeves of the sweatshirt up to her forearms, trying to compensate for the fact they were both too small for her. She shoved her feet in her shoes, quickly did up the laces and opened the bathroom door, carefully avoiding her reflection. She'd seen it once already and that was enough. A worn, pale face, with dark circles beneath her eyes had stared back at her. Not something she needed to see before she met the rest of Braden's family.
Why do I even care?
Why did she care? It wasn't as though she was meeting her boyfriend's family; she refused to think of it like that. She forced herself to face what she'd known, at some level, all along. Personal relationships were beyond her reach.
The thought gutted her. It was her own fault. She should never have gotten involved with Braden. She knew with certain dread that the few weeks of normal happiness she'd had with him would haunt her for years. But she was determined to rectify her mistake. Starting with demanding answers to the questions that had descended on her like angry bees while she stood under the roar of the shower.
Braden pushed away from the wall when she entered the bedroom. "Breakfast is ready. I'm sure you're hungry," he said, gesturing toward the open door.
"I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers." She lingered in the doorway of the bathroom and crossed her arms.
He shifted from foot to foot and glanced toward the stairs. Finally, he moved to the chair his father had occupied earlier that morning and slumped into it. "Alright." He nodded to the bed in front of him and shot her an irritated look when she didn't move. "For Christ's sake, Beth, I'm not going to maul you. I said I'd answer your damn questions, just come sit down."
She considered him for a long moment but finally decided the concession was small enough. "Fine." She sat across from him and leveled him with a flat stare. "Your father mentioned Markko by name. Implied you thought I was working with him against your family. I want to know why."
Braden sighed and relaxed into the chair. "The answer to that is complicated. My father wasn't lying when he said our families had a violent history. The Bolveks..."
"Who?" Beth interrupted.
"Markko's family," he explained. "The Bolveks are an old clan, going back generations. Some of the conflict is rooted in mythology."
"I don't care about that, I just want the facts."
"I figured." He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. "Look, what happened to you...That used to be a lot more common. Back in the 1980s and early 1990s the Bolveks were at the height of their power. They ran one of the largest crime syndicates in Eastern Europe and, because so much of the region was unstable, they got away with it. Had their hands in everything from human trafficking to arms supply and money laundering. Their criminal activities were bad enough, but the atrocities against humanity, Beth, I can't even tell you." He shook his head as if shaking off angry memories. She jerked away when he reached for her hand. "Anyway, their numbers started to surge. Rumors spread that Viktor Bolvek, Markko's father, was building an army. When rumors of attacks against people began to spread outside the werewolf population, the Council decided to step in."
"The Council?"
"It's sort of a governing group of clan leaders based here in the States. A representative from every major family in the Americas and most of Western Europe meet every few years, more often if something comes up. An emergency session was held to decide how to handle the Bolvek situation. My father and his younger brother, Jeremy, worked to dismantle their organization. They were gone for more than a year and a half," he quietly admitted. "He doesn't talk a lot about it. The situation was a lot worse than they'd expected."
"In what way?"
Braden shifted uncomfortably. "The Bolveks had been building an army...They'd been turning kids, Beth. Many in their early teens. Some as young as six or seven. A half dozen compounds were discovered littered throughout the Carpathians. All of them had packs of feral juveniles. The Council made the decision to hit them simultaneously---isolate the young wolves, kill the adults."
Beth pulled her legs to her chest, trying to digest what she was hearing.
"A lot of good people died in those raids. They simply weren't prepared for the juvenile wolves to fight them..." He trailed off, his gaze wandering the room.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and voiced the question on the tip of her tongue. "And the kids?"
"A lot of them were subdued, some of them escaped. But several were killed in the fighting. It still bothers my father. It took more than a year and a half, but ultimately, the Bolvek ranks were devastated. They never managed to reorganize and recover."
"I guess that explains a lot."
"Yeah, but not everything. You should know, Beth, that the Bolveks hold our family personally responsible for the destruction of their clan."
"Why? If it was the Council's decision..."
"Because it was my father and his brother that led the raid on their main compound. Markko was hardly an only child---he's actually one of the youngest. Three of his older brothers and two of his uncles were killed in the raid. Markko and his younger brother Ivan escaped that night with their father, Viktor. But not before they witnessed the destruction of the majority of their clan. My Uncle Jeremy died that night."
Braden gently gripped her elbow and pulled her up from the bed, guiding her toward the door. "You have to understand, Beth. As far as Markko's concerned, you're affiliated with our family now. That alone would be reason enough to hate you. That you killed his brother ensures that he's not going to stop coming after you. Not until you're dead." He paused in the doorway. "I know you're angry, God knows you've got every right, but you're safest here with us. Let us help. Please."
Head racing with everything he'd divulged, all she could do was shrug.
"Alright. How about breakfast?" he asked, gesturing toward the stairs.
Her stomach growled at the thought of food and she tucked away her whirling thoughts for the time being. There'd be time to examine them later. Braden pressed close behind her as they ascended the stairs, heating her back and infusing her awareness with him. The way he moved, the way he smelled...
Beth derailed that train of thought before it led her down a dangerous path. The moment they were in the hallway she lengthened her stride to put some distance between them.
They crossed through a huge family room, honey-colored wood floors gleaming in the morning sun streaming through the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Two huge leather sofas bracketed a large river stone fireplace on the far wall. A book lay facedown on the arm of the sofa, waiting for the reader to return. She felt as if she were looking at the room through the lens of a filmmaker's camera. The picture was warm and inviting, but she felt strangely disconnected to it, as though it were a hollow imitation of the real thing.
"This used to be our weekend home when I was a kid. My parents moved out here permanently after my dad retired," Braden said, breaking the silence between them.
Beth turned to face him. "And where, exactly, is here?" She tried to keep her tone flat and neutral.
Braden winced and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Sorry. We're still in Oregon, not far from Washington, actually." He shifted under her flat stare. "On the coast, west of Portland."
"Oh." The longer Beth watched him---the way his shoulders drooped, the way he cautiously stared at her, the tentative voice he used to speak with her---the faster her anger began to slip away. Unwilling to deal with whatever emotions would be left behind, she moved toward the kitchen.
The typical noise of a family breakfast filtered out to her as she moved closer. Forks clanked against plates and irregular laughter burst through the door and down the hall. As she entered, the aroma of bacon, eggs and hash browns assaulted her senses. A huge granite island dominated the room, and several counter-height barstools circled the arched edge, creating an eating space. Mr. Edwards sat on the corner farthest from the door, drinking his coffee and reading the sports page. A woman, most likely Mrs. Edwards, stood on the opposite side, turning bacon in the pan directly across from the eating area.
The normalcy jarred violently with everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
"Hey! Burrito bandito, get your own tortilla!" A young woman with pale blond hair and the clearest complexion Beth had ever seen slapped away the hand grabbing for the burrito on her plate.
"Why? Yours is right here." The young man sitting next to her made another grab, scowling when she yanked her breakfast out of harm's way.
Beth narrowed her eyes. The guy she recognized. He'd been with Braden yesterday, had bound her hands and shoved her in the trunk. She wrapped her arms around her middle, her aching ribs reminding her that he'd also Tasered her.
"Lucy. Chase. Cut it out." The woman pointed her spatula at the two in a way that reminded Beth strongly of Angie. "Come on in, you two, and have a seat," she said, stepping away from the stove, moving calmly toward them, a warm smile on her face.
Beth jumped when Braden's warm hand settled heavily on her lower back. She stepped out of his grasp but pulled up short. Everyone stared. Even Mr. Edwards glanced over his paper in their direction.
"Hi, honey."
Beth stiffened, completely unprepared for the warm embrace that engulfed her.
"Sorry." The woman stepped back and awkwardly ran her hands through her hair. A gesture she shared with her son. "I'm Anna, Braden's mother." She slipped her hand into Beth's and pulled her into the kitchen. "You've already met my husband, of course. But I don't think you've been properly introduced to these two."
Anna gestured to the two sitting at the counter. "This is Lucy."
"Hi." Lucy smiled, glancing over Beth.
In another reality, Beth might have thought she was being weighed and measured in an attempt to determine if she was suitable for Braden.
"And this is Chase."
Steady eyes caught hers. "We've met," he said.
"I'm aware you've met." Anna's sneer perfectly complemented her tone. "I said properly introduced, didn't I?"
He ducked his head, but Beth caught the smile that quirked his lips. "Yes, ma'am."
For a long moment, Anna stared at him, hands on her hips, expression fierce. She threw up her hands, muttered something Beth didn't catch and moved back to the stove. "The two of you move over so Elizabeth and Braden can sit together."
There was bit of shuffling, a little shoving and a lot of plates and forks clanking together, but they moved down toward their father, leaving enough empty stools for Beth and Braden to sit next to each other at the end and still have a few vacant in the middle.
"Now Elizabeth, how do you like your eggs?"
The casual question took Beth off guard. She floundered for what to say and glanced around at everyone else's plates. "Scrambled is fine."
Beth watched, Braden hovering beside her, as Anna cracked a couple of eggs into the pan and began to briskly beat them with a fork.
"Mike's on his way. He should be here in a few minutes." Anna's stern glare turned on Braden. "You should never have let him leave last night, knowing she was hurt."
"I'm fine."
"You aren't." Braden looked at her wrists, which were still raw and painful, even after she'd done her best not to irritate them in the shower.
Beth opened her mouth to contradict him. She was fine. She didn't want to see Mike, whoever he was.
"Please don't argue."
She jerked her hand away when he tried to cover it with his own. He clenched his fingers, but pulled away.
"Mike's our family doctor. Let him check you over, make sure everything's okay."
"You call the family doctor for all the people you kidnap?" Beth let the full force of anger consume her face when Braden opened his mouth. "I'm sure that's simple to explain. Sorry to call you out here doc, but we Tasered a girl, then tossed her in the trunk of the car yesterday. We just want to make sure she'll live."
"Nobody said anything to me about a Taser!" Anna's irate voice broke through most of Beth's anger. "A Taser, Braden? How could you?"
Braden jerked away from his mother. "That was Chase!"
Anna rounded on Chase. "Apologize. Now."
"But..."
"Both of you. Now."
"Sorry." They muttered at the same time, obviously unwilling to ignore their mother's edict. Braden wouldn't look at her and Chase suddenly took a ravenous interest in his breakfast. Anna pushed a plate of freshly scrambled eggs and steaming bacon in front of her.
"What would you like to drink?"
"Uh..."
"We've got orange juice, milk, water, coffee..."
"Orange juice is fine."
Anna turned away and pulled a glass out of the cabinet.
"That was awesome!" Lucy leaned across the two empty chairs between them, a huge smile broadcasting perfect teeth. "No one can make them cower like Mom." Her eyes danced with amusement. "I bet if you squeeze out a few tears she'll actually hit them with her spatula."
Despite herself, Beth grinned.
"Eat your breakfast, Lucy." Anna placed a glass of juice in front of Beth and handed her a fork. "Go ahead, you must be hungry."
She was, Beth realized. She'd thrown the sandwiches Braden had brought her at his head last night and she hadn't been tempted to touch them later. Picking up her fork, she speared a fluffy bit of eggs. "Thanks."
"Sure." Anna gave her a small smile of approval as she ate the first bite. Then she turned to Braden. "You can get your own plate."
Braden huffed, but slid out of his chair without further protest and grabbed a plate.
"Do I smell bacon?" Another man, close in age to Braden, walked through the door, dropping a small bag from his shoulder to the floor. Tall and a little rangy, he had a narrow face that sported a pair of frameless glasses. He was obviously at home in their kitchen and there was something deeply familiar about his smile.
"You do. Are you hungry?" Anna asked, already reaching for another plate.
"You bet." He pulled the chair out next to Lucy and ruffled her hair.
"Hey!" She shoved him in the shoulder, complaining around a mouthful of eggs.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Lucy." Anna set a plate in front of Mike. "Mike, this is Beth."
"Oh, Beth. Hi." He smiled widely and held out his hand.
Transfixed by the familiarity in his face, Beth absently shook his hand.
"Nice job by the way."
"What?"
He reached across the counter and snagged some bacon off the plate by the stove. "The cut I stitched up on Braden's head was a beauty." He laughed over her shoulder, obviously taunting Braden. "He must have done something to seriously piss you off---you look too nice to wield blunt instruments at men's heads as a hobby."
Beth smiled again, finding it difficult not to relax a little in the strange family dynamic that permeated the room. She studied Mike's face as he chewed his bacon. "Have we met?"
"Nah, I don't come into Portland too much. These guys keep me too busy out here."
"You look familiar."
"I'm told I have my mother's grin." He smiled again, as if to give her a comparison. "What do you think?"
"I think I'd have to meet your mother." For some reason Beth couldn't fathom, he burst out laughing.
Confused, she glanced around the kitchen.
"Mike is Angie's son," Braden explained. "He's, ah, aware of our situation. Helps us out from time to time."
Beth turned back to Mike. "And is your mother aware of their situation?"
"Lord, no!" He chuckled, shaking his head.
"So she doesn't know you provide medical services to people who kidnap women?" Beth couldn't quite keep the humor out of her expression when Mike choked and turned horrified eyes on her.
"Oh God, you aren't going to tell her I had anything to do with this, are you?" He sounded genuinely terrified.
Lucy burst out laughing. "I knew I'd like you." She seemed to bounce out of her chair, clapping Beth on her shoulder as she went. "I'm going to go catch a shower and change." She paused by the door. "I'll run into town later and grab you some things---fresh clothes, a toothbrush. Write down your sizes, okay?"
Beth faltered under the easy gesture of friendship, but said, "Okay."
"Cool," Lucy said as she flitted out of the room.
"Seriously, though. You aren't going to tell her, right?" Mike's eyes were still wide as he stared at Beth. The horror of what his mother would say written clearly across his face.
"I don't know what I'm going to tell her." Beth grimaced. "I'm sure she's worried. I didn't show up for my shift this morning."
"Don't worry about that," Braden said. "I called her last night, said you had to fly home for a family emergency. She's not expecting you back for the next week or two."
"I guess you thought of everything," Beth said and turned back to her breakfast.
\*\*\*
"Well, all things considered, you're in pretty good shape." Mike gently taped off the bandage he'd wrapped around her wrist. "Try to keep these clean and dry. I'll leave some triple antibiotic cream with you. Use it after you wash the cuts. Morning and evening, okay?"
Beth nodded and pulled her hands away from him. "Okay."
"One last thing. If it's alright with you, I'd like to take a blood sample, run a complete work-up."
"Is something wrong?" Beth asked.
"No. Nothing I'm worried about specifically. But from what you've said in the last half hour, and what Braden filled me in on, you weren't bitten and turned in a conventional method. I'm betting you have some distinct knowledge gaps where your physiology is concerned. A complete work-up will help us fill those in."
"Knowledge gaps?" Fear skittered across the back of her mind. "Like what?"
"Well, when we were talking earlier you mentioned you'd been taking some prescription drugs." He flipped through his notepad. "Medication for depression---anxiety and a sleep aid, right?"
"Yeah. But I haven't taken them in a while." She rubbed her hands back and forth across her jeans and tried to ignore the way Braden suddenly stepped away from where he lounged against the wall.
"Because they didn't work, right? Probably made you feel worse, instead of better?" Mike asked.
"Yeah. How'd you know?"
"Werewolf physiology is just...well, different, for lack of a better word. Some medications work just fine and very few are truly dangerous. But some medications, particularly those that influence the mind, do more harm than good. Lots of people who've been turned report that medications like the ones you were taking make them feel skittish, jumpy. And I've never met a werewolf that hadn't experienced exasperated side effects from sleep aids."
"I used to wake up so disoriented. I'd feel heavy, uncoordinated. Sometimes for hours," Beth supplied.
"Right. That's a consistent reaction with everyone else I've treated. I want to make sure all of the medications are out of your system. I can also see if there are any supplements or dietary recommendations I can make to you." He reached into his bag and pulled out a tourniquet, vial and butterfly needle. "I can do this another time if you're uncomfortable. But it really should be done sooner rather than later."
"It's fine." Beth rolled up her sleeve and let him slip the tourniquet around her upper arm. She looked away as he pulled the needle out of the sterile packaging.
Her head spun as he closed fingers around her arm. So many questions raced through her mind; she couldn't catch one long enough to figure out how to voice it. Her questions had gone unanswered for so long.
There so much I still don't know.
"That's it." He announced a few minutes later, removing the tourniquet and storing the vials in his bag. "I'll be back to check on you tomorrow morning." He stood and snapped off his rubber gloves.
"I'll be fine. You don't need to come back out." She'd heal, with or without the visit. Still, she was reluctant to see him go. He'd acted as a comforting buffer between her and Braden. Since they'd moved into the living room, he'd been a solid presence between them. And, if Beth was being completely honest, an amusing one as well.
He'd laughed and joked as he gently inspected her wrists, then carefully lifted her sweatshirt, gently probing at the bruises the Taser had left. Focusing on him helped her ignore Braden every time he pushed away from the wall and fell into a routine of pacing and glaring.
"I'm sure you'll be fine, too." He said as he packed all of his medical supplies into his bag. "But I'm still going to come out and see if you need anything. I'm afraid tonight might be more difficult than what you're used to."
The blood drained from her face. Tonight? "What do you mean?"
He glanced up at her question and his face softened. "Oh, nothing. Just that with the amount of stress you've been under and how sore I know you are...the shift tonight will probably be a little rougher than normal. So I'll be out here first thing to check up on you."
Beth smiled weakly and rose from the sofa, folding her arms against her chest. "Thanks."
"Sure." He must have sensed her unease because he joked, "I'll even charge Braden double, if it'll make you feel better."
"I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."
The moment Mike left, Braden moved toward her, concern creasing his forehead. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." She wished it were true. How had she forgotten about the full moon? She never forgot.
"You aren't."
Irritated, Beth moved away from him and toward the huge windows overlooking the front lawn. "I said I'm fine."
"Was that Mike leaving?" Lucy came down the stairs, barefoot in jeans and a pink henley.
"Yeah." Braden shoved a hand through his hair and turned to his sister. "He'll be by in the morning."
"Okay." Lucy shrugged. "Mom!"
"Don't shout, Lucy, I'm right here." Anna strode out of the kitchen, digging through her purse. "Have you seen my keys?"
"They're by the door."
"Okay. Grab some shoes and we'll get going."
"Where are you guys headed?" Braden asked.
"We're going to run a couple of errands in town." Anna slid a slim pair of glasses onto her face. "We'll be back by dinner. I'm going to pick up stuff to make the apple turnovers Angie sent me the recipe for."
Mystified, Beth watched Lucy and Braden exchange a worried glance.
"Elizabeth, we're going to pick a few things up for you, do you have any preferences regarding toothpaste or anything?"
"Um, no. Whatever's fine." She hoped she wouldn't be staying long enough to care.
"Okay. I'm sure you're tired. I changed the sheets in Braden's room. You'll be more comfortable in there."
Beth bristled at the same time Braden choked. "That's not necessary."
"Nonsense." Anna dismissed them with a wave and a glare in Braden's direction. "Braden's room is far more comfortable and it has a private bathroom. Braden can sleep down the hall in one of the guest rooms for the time being." Between her tone and her pointed glare in her son's direction, Beth decided not to argue.
"Come on, Lucy." Anna stepped out the front door, beckoning her daughter to follow.
"You two be careful," Braden said, his words weighted with caution.
"We will," Lucy said, dismissing him.
Beth wondered if Lucy had been overprotected in a family with so many men.
"I'm serious," Braden persisted.
"Oh, relax. We're meeting Chase and Dad for a late lunch, we'll be fine." Lucy followed her mother out the door. She shot a beaming smile in Braden's direction and gave a little finger wave. "You two have the whole place to yourselves...have a good time!" She pulled the door shut behind her before Braden could reply.
Braden cleared his throat, cutting the silence. "Can I get you anything?"
"A car and directions back to Portland," Beth blurted out before she could stop herself. She knew she couldn't leave. A part of her even acknowledged that Markko was as responsible for that as Braden was. Still, the lack of choice rankled.
"Anything else?" The words came out as a quiet apology that Beth didn't want to deal with.
"I could use some sleep. I didn't get much last night." She let the accusation hang between them.
"Right. I'll show you where my room is."
Beth followed him quietly up the stairs and down a sunlit hallway. They passed a loft showcasing an ornate pool table, a forgotten game still laid out on the green surface. The room overlooked the entryway and a portion of the family room. The two-story windows at the front of the house poured light in and provided a breathtaking view of the forest.
Their home was everything she might have imagined of Braden's family, had her arrival not been so hostile. The picture of normalcy, the warmth of his parents, Lucy's constant laughter; all of that a weighty force that made it difficult to believe she'd arrived in the trunk of a car. The contradiction exhausted her.
Braden opened the second door on the left and allowed Beth to precede him into the room. A queen-size, cherry sleigh bed dominated the middle of the room, crisp white sheets and what looked like a down comforter were pulled back invitingly.
Fatigue overtook her in a rush. She ignored the rest of the room, sat on the edge of the bed, toed off her shoes and ignored Braden hovering in the doorway.
"Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine."
"Beth, I..."
Beth cut him off with a jerk of her hand. She didn't want to hear what he had to say. "Go away, Braden."
"Look, I just want to..."
"I don't care what you want." She tucked her feet underneath the sheets and sank into a mattress as soft as a cloud. "Go away." She closed her eyes, willing Braden to leave her alone. Maybe she'd have a better idea of what to say to him after she slept.
He sighed, but switched off the light. "I'll be down the hall in the office, third door to the right, if you need me."
Beth turned her back to him and burrowed into the pillows. "I won't."
\*\*\*
Beth had been lying awake for a little more than an hour, staring out the window, watching the sun's steady arc toward the horizon. She knew the moon marched steadily in behind it.
"Knock, knock." Lucy lightly rapped her knuckles on the door as she pushed it open. "Oh good, you're awake." She grabbed four large shopping bags off the floor and marched into the room.
Beth sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, reluctant to leave the quiet behind her. "What's all that?"
Lucy started pulling things out of the bags she dropped by the dresser.
"The stuff I picked up for you in town," she answered, pulling out several long-sleeve shirts, a couple of Tshirts, two pairs of jeans and several satin pajama sets.
"You didn't need to get all of this. Some underwear and a toothbrush would have been plenty," Beth said as Lucy continued to pull things out of bags, laying them either across the end of the bed or on top of the dresser.
Lucy grinned at her. "Don't be silly. My clothes don't fit you and Braden said to make sure you're comfortable."
More items appeared by the second: several sets of underwear, a hairbrush, makeup, toothpaste, even a silky robe. Beth felt anything but comfortable. "It's too much."
"Nah. Besides, I parted Braden from his credit card before I left." Lucy looked at her, an earnest expression crossing her face. "He wanted to make sure you have everything you need."
"Well, thanks, I guess."
Lucy beamed at her response and started sorting through things. "Okay, I got you a couple of extra bras and some underwear, I followed the sizes you gave me, but I hope I got the right styles. You didn't say."
Lucy shoved some lacy undergarments, matching lacy undergarments, Beth realized, into her hands.
"These are great."
"Oh good." Lucy began pulling dresser drawers open until she found an empty one. "I got you some pj's. I hope satin's alright."
Lucy ripped off store tags and started depositing items in drawers.
"Oh, well yeah, but..."
"No buts. Try on those jeans, make sure they fit before I tear the tags off," Lucy said, gesturing toward the jeans on the bed.
Beth grabbed the jeans and escaped into the bathroom. "Wow."
"Hmm?" Lucy popped her head around the corner. "What?"
"This is the nicest bathroom I've ever seen." A huge standing shower with multiple jets and a large whirlpool tub occupied the far wall. A deep marble countertop ran the length of the room, showcasing a beautiful modern sink. The space would have been right at home in any upscale master suite in the country. "Are all your bathrooms like this?"
Lucy moved past her and dropped a load of cosmetics on the counter, shooting her a strange look. "Yeah. When my parents built the house they made sure we all had our own bathrooms. A nice hot soak is really relaxing the morning after."
Beth didn't have to ask the morning after what...but she did marvel at Lucy's casual acceptance.
"Okay. Toothbrush and toothpaste. Check." Lucy set both of them at the corner of the sink. "I also got you some deodorant, unscented. I figured you probably didn't like perfumes in most of your stuff." She glanced at Beth in the mirror for confirmation.
"Yeah. Thanks." Beth sat on the edge of the tub and watched Lucy bounce around the bathroom, a never-ending fountain of energy.
"I got you a razor and some shaving cream." Lucy placed them inside the shower and turned back to the remaining items on the counter.
"I guessed when it came to makeup. I got the basics---some translucent powder and some neutral-toned blush." Lucy stopped dead when she turned back to Beth, as though it just occurred to her that she'd been running a mile a minute since she walked in. She fidgeted, then set the makeup on the counter.
Beth stood. Lucy had been nothing but kind to her, warm and welcoming since they'd first met. Beth couldn't explain it, but she hated the expression of uncertainty on her face. It didn't suit her. She forced herself to reach out and squeeze her arm.
"Thanks." Beth took in the assortment of cosmetics scattered on the countertop. "Is that hair dye?"
Lucy laughed, the awkward tension broken. She picked up the box and turned it over in her hands. "Yeah. You'd look good a few shades lighter." Lucy shrugged. "I can get a little carried away." She put the box back on the counter. "Dinner's going to be ready soon. I'm going to hang up some stuff I got for myself. I'll swing back by and get you when I head down, okay?"
"Okay."
"Try on those jeans." Lucy grabbed the remaining bag off the bed and dashed out the door.
\*\*\*
Beth sat on the edge of Braden's bed and pulled off her shoes. She didn't need to look out the window to know the sun was dipping below the trees on the horizon. The hour or so before the sun set on the day of a full moon always resonated in her. Her foot tapped, her hands shook, her muscles tensed. She felt edgy and alert, everything around her brighter, sharper, crisper. Adrenaline flooded her in small bursts, triggering her systems to react. Her body hummed with the anticipation of the change.
Strange, considering how much I hate it.
She'd been fascinated at dinner, watching the other family members exhibit some of the same mannerisms. The way Lucy's foot constantly bounced, the way Chase's fingers flexed continuously around his silverware. Even Braden had teemed with energy. Braden's father had been more difficult to read. He always exhibited such a calm, quiet air about him. But Beth saw it, even in him, in the way he lingered against his wife when he kissed her cheek, breathing in the air around her.
Anna was the only one that hadn't seemed effected by it. Throughout dinner Beth had watched her, fascinated, as she carried on, business as usual. Beth hadn't been aware of how open her study was until Anna leaned toward her and casually whispered, "I'm not like them. I never chose to be turned." She'd leaned back into her seat and turned to her husband who idly stroked her arm.
"Hey," Lucy said, breaking through her thoughts. She stood in the doorway wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, looking for all the world as though she intended to relax around the house. "Are you coming with us?"
"Where?" Beth pulled off her socks and stuffed them in her shoes.
"When we're all at home, we usually run around the woods surrounding the house. You know, goof around." She smiled invitingly. "Wanna come?"
"I think I'd better stay here."
"Ah, come on! I'm always outnumbered by the guys," Lucy pleaded. "It'd be nice to have a girl to back me up for a change."
"I'll pass." Lucy looked so disappointed that Beth forced a lie past her lips. "But maybe next time."
"Are you sure?" Lucy hovered uncertainly in the doorway, obviously warring with whether or not to push the issue.
"Leave her alone, Luce." Braden gave her a gentle shove down the hallway. "Chase is waiting for you downstairs and Caleb pulled in ten minutes ago."
"Okay. See you in the morning, Beth." She disappeared down the hall, yelling for Chase.
"Who's Caleb?"
"My other brother. He came in from Portland." He leaned casually against the doorjamb, studying her. "You didn't eat much at dinner."
"I wasn't very hungry." She turned away from his scrutiny and moved toward the window. Lucy and Chase goofed around on the lawn. Another man---Caleb, she assumed---scooped Lucy up over his shoulder and spun around. Lucy shrieked with laughter. The clear sky continued to fade from brilliant blue into a reddish-purple glow. They didn't seem to notice. Or care.
"You shouldn't skip meals before the change. It's not good for you."
"You should go. Your family is waiting for you." Beth gestured toward the window, silently willing Braden to leave.
"I thought maybe I'd stay with you."
"I don't want you here." She strode across the room, her mind set. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Braden caught the door she tried to slam in his face.
"It's easier with someone else. Please, Beth."
"No." A spasm ran through her, her fingers clenching involuntarily around the door. "Go away." A shudder racked her frame, the muscles in her shoulders and along her spine rippling. He had to leave. Now.
"It's already starting?" He moved as if to step into the room, brown eyes warm and concerned.
Beth put her hand in the center of his chest and pushed. "Just go." Desperation tinged her voice. He took a small step back, enough for her to slam the door and twist the lock. The moment she did another spasm ripped through her, tormenting her sore muscles and igniting the places the Taser had touched her. She barely managed to muffle the cry that bubbled up her throat.
Moving as quickly as she dared, she stripped out of her jeans and T-shirt. She was down to underwear when the first true contraction hit her. She stifled a scream, as the pain drove her to hands and knees.
The doorknob rattled and Braden's voice pleaded through the door. "Beth, please. Don't do this."
Why isn't he shifting?
Beth gasped for breath and struggled out of her bra. Her stomach turned. Saliva that tasted of the roast chicken dinner flooded her mouth. She distantly registered the first howl from the front yard. She answered it with a scream of pain that drowned out everything else.
Braden slammed his fists against the door, Beth's screams raking through him like claws. He fought his own change, delaying the inevitable.
His shoulders rippled and tensed. He breathed through the muscle spasms, willing the shift to wait a few more minutes.
"Braden?" His mother's voice cut through his concentration.
Braden made a desperate grab for the control to not shift on the spot.
"I'm fine."
"You're not. You're fighting the change." His mother stepped up next to him, the scent of lemon and rosemary still clinging to her skin. "Why?"
"She's hurting." Beth's screams had died almost as soon as they'd begun but her painful whimpers continued to echo through the door.
And his gut.
And his heart.
"Hurting yourself won't change that," she scolded. "I'm going to go check on the others. When I come back up here, you better not be standing on two legs."
Braden squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his forehead against the door. "Fine." He couldn't fight the change that long anyway.
"If I need to, I'll pick the lock and let you in, okay?" His mother's hand trailed across his shoulder, but didn't ease any of the tension in his muscles. He nodded and she silently walked away. He took another bracing breath and silenced the instinct that was trying to force the shift long enough for him to strip out of his clothes. The moment he was free of the fabric he slid into the wolf.
It was instant relief and instant torture. His muscles no longer ached and his awareness was no longer consumed with the need to change. But as a wolf he clearly heard Beth's muffled cries and the unsteady click of her claws against the wood that told him how stiff she was. The door shielded nothing of her agony from him, but prevented any attempt he could make to soothe her.
It was beyond frustrating. Bad enough she'd spent the entire day avoiding him, either physically placing herself on the other side of the room, or pretending he wasn't there at all. Worse was when Lucy wrung a laugh or a smile out of her. Or when his mother spoke with her in low, easy tones. Worst of all had been her ease around Mike. She didn't flinch away when he gently touched her shoulder or examined her wounds. She'd even joked with him! But the moment they were alone, the moment he thought he might have a chance to apologize, she'd slammed the door on him and gone to sleep. And now she'd shut him out again.
Braden paced the length of the hall, his claws clicking against the polished wood floor. He paused, rotating one large ear toward his room. A heavy exhale and a thump carried through the door. Then nothing. He pushed his head against the door, not bothering to conceal the whine that slid out of his throat.
No response.
He paced for over an hour. Once or twice he'd heard the excited barks of the rest of his family after Chase's howl had cut across the night. He'd cocked his head, his ears trained in the direction of the sounds, and wondered if they'd found a deer or a rabbit to hunt. He couldn't bring himself to find out.
"I hoped if I left you alone you'd go on outside." His mother's voice carried down the hall as she mounted the top of the stairs. "But seeing as you are determined to wear a path in floor, I suppose I better interfere."
His mother heaved a long-suffering sigh and pulled out the slender screwdriver she used to tighten the joints on her reading glasses. "Are you sure about this? She seemed determined to do this on her own." His mother hesitated by the door, studying the handle as if it held all the answers. "She's been forced enough already---maybe you should let her rest. She's safe in there for tonight."
Braden plopped to the floor, let his shoulders hunch, his ears droop and eyes go wide. When she didn't notice, he produced the most suffering whimper he could manage. His mother's gaze immediately snapped to him, her expression softening.
"Stop that."
Braden whined a little louder.
His mother's expression broke. "Someday that's not going to work on me." She inserted the screwdriver into the tiny hole in the doorknob and pushed. "I don't know what you'll do then."
Braden heard the lock click open and a second later Beth startled to her feet, paws scrabbling against the wood, carrying her away from the door. He leaped to his feet and brushed against his mother's side in an impatient thank-you. When she didn't push the door open fast enough, he scratched at the wood by the doorjamb.
"Cut it out. Don't make me regret this." She pushed the door open wide enough for him to slide in. "And come morning I better not find your clothes still cluttering up my hallway!"
The door snicked shut behind him as Braden searched the room for Beth. A soft growl jerked his head around toward the window. She stood by the window, under the fall of moonlight, stick thin, hackles raised and growling defensively. He inspected her closely from across the room. Two things stood out to him. First, the change wore on her in a way it shouldn't after so long. Second, she was absolutely stunning.
Her coat shone pale silver in the moonlight, except for her Prime Mantle. Slate gray fur tipped her ears and spread down her neck to wrap over her shoulders and cover her front legs like a cloak. She backed herself into the corner of the room, ears pressed flat to her skull, snarling and hunched as if prepared to leap. Scared blue eyes tracked his every move.
Braden swallowed his pride and dropped to his belly, whining as he pushed himself toward her. He tried to convey his submissiveness through his body language and his intentions through his eyes. She let him get within a body length before she snapped her jaws, bristling and backing as far away as the tight corner allowed.
Undaunted, he rose slowly and pushed his head forward. He didn't think she would attack him. Instinct would tell her it was a fight she couldn't win. She kept her teeth bared and hackles up, but didn't move as he made a final push forward, rubbing his muzzle against her cheek and toward her ear. Relieved that she'd allowed the contact, he laid his head briefly on top of hers and pulled away.
Braden backed off, allowing enough room for Beth to move out of the corner. He sat and cocked his head, anxious to see what she'd do. She sat back into the corner, dropping her hackles and pulling her teeth behind her lips. She regarded him, with the same ice blue eyes that always captivated him, for so long that Braden wondered if they'd remain in this strange standoff until the sun rose.
Unsure how to encourage her without crowding her, he curled up on the floor a few feet away. Slowly, Beth emerged into the room. From the spot he'd chosen on the floor, Braden watched her carefully circle away from him. For the moment, he was content to let her. It gave him the opportunity to look his fill.
She was truly magnificent, but he could tell she had no idea how to care for herself. She was too thin, her ribs too defined under fur that, despite the beautiful color, was dull and thin. As she moved across the room, gait unsteady, her muscles continued to spasm as though the shift had just occurred. She wasn't eating right. Probably wasn't exercising during the shift either.
And why would she?
How could he expect her to know how to handle this; how to ensure that the change was easy, that she and the wolf stayed healthy? No one had helped her.
Braden couldn't imagine how hard it must have been. The fear. The desperation. He'd never regarded the change as something vicious, but he'd never faced it alone, either. Beth settled wearily on the rug in front of the bed, curling tightly into herself, her eyes never losing track of him.
He rose and padded over to her. She tensed as he settled next to her, but didn't growl or jerk away. He lay his head down gently over the back of her neck, thrilled when her muscles relaxed and she faded into sleep.
I won't let her face this alone. Not ever again.
Braden blinked groggily and scanned the room.
The murky gray of early morning wrapped the room in shadows, but nothing moved and nothing appeared out of place. Next to him, Beth quivered and exhaled on a whimper. Blue eyes, hazed with fear and pain caught his. Another shudder racked her thin frame and she whimpered again, curling tighter into herself and he understood. Her muscles began the cycle of cramping and flexing, the first rays of sun only minutes away. The moon's power waned, forcing Beth back into her human form.
Braden pulled away. If the sun was that close...
He willed himself to shift forms. It was a little early, but Beth was already suffering the first onslaught of spasms.
I can do this.
His muscles warred against his attempt to shift. Braden focused on the sensation of human limbs and human senses, and forced the change to come. It took longer than usual and even as hands and feet replaced paws, he knew he'd be sore for the rest of the day.
He knelt near Beth as he struggled to catch his breath. Her body shuddered and jerked, her muscles locked in a never-ending cycle of spasms. She panted through her snout, locking her jaws around the cries vibrating in her throat.
"Shh. Beth, try to relax." He slid his fingers into the soft fur behind her neck and trailed his hand down the length of her spine, willing her muscles to unclench. "Try not to fight the cramping..."
As he continued to card his fingers through her fur, he felt her physically try to relax and allow the shift to take control. The audible pop of bone and the snap of muscle drowned out her whimpers. He watched in horrified fascination as Beth endured the slowest shift he'd ever seen. It took a full two minutes before she lay curled in on herself, limbs twitching in the aftermath.
With shaking fingers Braden resumed stroking the length of her spine. Her skin shone with sweat and felt clammy beneath his fingers. For a long time, only the sound of her harsh breathing filled the air.
She pushed her arms up underneath her and tried to hoist herself to her knees. Unable to watch her struggle, Braden slid an arm under her stomach and another around her back, sitting her up.
She mumbled something he didn't catch. "What?"
"Bathroom. Please...I think I'm going to be sick."
Braden lifted her to her feet and supported her into the bathroom. She darted away from him and dropped to her knees, retching violently the moment she reached the toilet.
At a loss, Braden turned on the steam shower, getting the spray hot, and tried to ignore the way the harsh heaving racked her frame. When trembling fingers reached to flush the toilet, Braden intercepted them, pressed a damp washcloth into their grasp and flushed the toilet.
"Thanks." She trembled, but pushed herself to her feet, a soft blush spreading from her face down to the top of her chest, trailing over the soft swell of her breasts. "I'll just..." She gestured toward the shower. Embarrassment colored her sallow cheeks as she looked away, but whether she was uncomfortable over her illness or the fact that they were both naked, he wasn't sure.
He pulled her to him with a gentle grip on her arm and led her into the shower. She bristled, her damned independence reasserting itself. Braden tightened his grip, determined to keep her with him, and coaxed her under the spray of six massaging showerheads.
"Oh..." She moaned low in the back of her throat as the warm jets of water went to work. Her muscles relaxed beneath the onslaught of hot water as his tensed in reaction to the way she was pressed up against him naked, wet and moaning.
He pulled her closer; her cheek pressed against his chest, and reveled in the way she leaned against him, allowing him to run his fingers over the soft skin of her back, and through the wet strands of her hair. She pressed her forehead against the center of his chest and laid a hand under his heart.
"I hate you..." The words had no force behind them, and though they pierced his heart, he heard them for what they were.
"You don't. Not really." He rested his chin on her head. She shivered and shook her head against his shoulder. "Shh," he said. "Don't do this. Not now."
Beth wasn't sure how long she stood there, limp against his chest, his steady heartbeat against her cheek. The water went cold against her back, seizing muscles that had relaxed under the pounding heat of six showerheads. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and reached behind her to turn off the water. She didn't move. Couldn't move.
A fluffy towel draped around her, absorbing the chill as he guided her out of the shower and into the bedroom. He released her, pulling back the bedcovers, then ushered her, still damp, onto clean sheets. When he gently began to dry her, starting at an ankle and moving up her leg, she made herself look away. It was too much. All too much.
The weight of her wishes crushed her. She wished she'd never gone to Europe. She wished she'd never been bitten. She wished she'd never seen him shift from man to beast in the driveway of her home. So many wishes. So many regrets. But she couldn't bring herself to wish she'd never met him. Because in this moment, as his large, gentle hands carefully dried her, soothing sore muscles with their steady warmth, she needed him. She needed him so fiercely her entire body yearned for him, eclipsing everything else.
He was comfort. Pure and simple. He slid between the sheets next to her and drew her to him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. He stroked his fingers through her hair, a quiet presence beside her. Warming her. Supporting her. Comforting her. Solid heat, where before there'd been nothing but the cool tile of her bathroom to soothe her through the first hours of the morning.
She drew her fingers down his chest and sought his nipple with her lips. He grunted. His fingers coiled in her hair that spilled down her back.
"Beth," he growled. "I'm not made of restraint."
She didn't have to feel him to know he was heavy and ready for her. A distant part of her acknowledged that her actions were selfish, but her yearning overrode her reason and she closed teeth around the nub beneath her tongue, her body warming against the groan that rumbled through his ribs. She knew he wanted her, could feel it in the way he held absolutely still beneath her. The slightest shift of her leg against him, the smallest tilt of her chin toward his mouth and he'd give her what she wanted. Comfort and a knowledgeable embrace she'd never dreamed she'd find.
That more than anything drove her forward.
He should roll her to her side, pull her against him, and coax her into sleep. He knew it. The feeling resonated within him, warring with the stark desire to roll the other direction and drape his body over hers.
The moment of indecision cost him. She tilted her head and reached for his mouth, pressing her lips to his. He knew her emotions were high and the situation wrong but he couldn't control himself against the press of her lips and the swell of her breasts as they brushed against him as she slid closer.
He was sunk.
He rolled to meet her, working his lips over hers, coaxing soft sighs from her mouth as he fell into the pace she set. Fingers stroked along planes of muscle, kneading where they found knots, soothing away tension and enticing a languid desire to settle rich and heavy in every limb.
It took every ounce of his control to give instead of take. To follow instead of lead. He'd never submitted in such a way before, never responded solely to the demands and desires of another. He'd never felt such slowly coiling pleasure either.
The few seconds he took to pull away and secure a condom were torture. Every ounce of him cried out for her and quivered with the anticipated return. She rewarded him with a warm welcome that embraced him as he stroked the center of her.
They kept the pace slow and the movements long, their breath commingling in the scant space between them when they grew too distracted to maintain a kiss. It was intimate. Excruciating.
Powerful.
She clenched, hot and tight around him, pulling his release from the very depth of him. Like the rest of their lovemaking, it lasted an eternity and passed in a heartbeat, stamping his memory forever.
My God.
She lay sprawled across him, quiet and limp, her breath coming in quick bursts. He pulled the sheet they'd kicked off up to her shoulder and let one hand trail down to knead the rise of her butt.
He drifted to sleep beneath the blanket of her body, his heart swelling with something he didn't want to name.
\*\*\*
The gentle trail of fingers woke her. Up her spine, down her arm, around her hip.
Repeat.
The rhythm of it kept her floating between sleep and wakefulness. She just drifted. The fingers pulled her hair away from her shoulders so they could dance over a shoulder, skirt a collarbone and...dart back up toward her neck to gently stroke tiny marks, almost too faint to see, over and over again.
"I can't believe I never noticed these," Braden mumbled as his fingers traced the faded scars.
Reality descended with stunning speed, slamming her awake. "They faded quickly." She jerked her shoulder away, pulled the sheet to her breasts and sat up. "They healed quickly, too."
"They usually do---it's the first place the change takes hold after the bite. Still, I'm shocked I didn't notice them before. I noticed everything else about you." He playfully ran his fingers down the exposed skin of her back.
"Don't." She scrambled from the bed, taking the sheet with her as protection. "Don't do that."
"Do what?" He asked, "Don't touch you?" He sounded honestly mystified.
God, what a mess.
"Just don't."
"Beth." He pulled himself out of bed. She kept it between them when he stepped toward her. He drew up short, his forehead creasing in confusion and his mouth drawing into a thin line. "What's wrong?"
Hysteria-induced laughter tried to bubble out of her. What wasn't wrong? The entire situation was a disaster.
"I should get dressed. It's probably late."
Too late. It's definitely too late.
"Bull," he said, his fists tightening at his side. "Try again."
"I think you should leave."
"And I think you should start talking. What's going on? Things seemed better this morning."
"That was a mistake. It won't happen again." She pulled the sheet tighter around herself as if that would convince him.
"Like hell." He stalked around the bed, advancing on her. She matched every step he took until she hit the wall. He stopped dead. "Beth, I wouldn't hurt you."
You already have.
She'd be damned if she allowed it to happen again.
"Don't do this, Beth." He pinned her with a look he backed with so much emotion it hit her resolve like a sledgehammer. "You can trust me."
"I don't even know you." She ignored the part of her that even now reacted to his presence, the part of her that had coaxed her into his embrace that morning.
"Yes, you do. I'm the guy you dodged a rainstorm with, shared a steak with. I'm the guy you had passionate sex with. I'm still that guy." He softened his tone. "That hasn't changed."
How could he say such a thing? Everything had changed.
"That guy? The guy that came to my apartment to do God knows what? The guy that turned into a werewolf in my driveway? The guy that Tasered me and tossed me in the trunk of his car? That guy? Because him? Him I don't know." She advanced away from the wall, fury propelling her forward. "Him I don't want to know."
He sucked air as though she'd sucker punched him. "I didn't Taser you! And that's not fair."
"Neither is this." She gestured between them. "I get it. I'm stuck here until Markko's dealt with. I don't have a choice. But after that? After that I do have a choice."
"So what? You'll leave? Bury your head in the sand? Pretend a part of you doesn't exist?"
She shrugged and turned away from him.
"Yeah," he said. "That's worked really well so far."
She whirled on him, sheet clenched in her hands, eyes flashing. "I survived it before you. I'll survive it without you." The mere thought of it devastated her.
It's only sex. You've done without before, you can again.
That much, at least, was true. She'd had her share of relationships in college, enjoyed the sex and taken pleasure in the easy companionship. Nothing too serious, no strings. But after Rachel...well, she hadn't missed it. Hadn't even thought about it.
Until Braden.
The memory of him, of them, drew a physical response from her so profound it seared straight through the core of her. She'd miss his kisses, deep and drugging. The way he ran his hands over her as though he couldn't get enough. The way he possessively toyed with her hair. She'd miss the physical.
She'd learn to live without it.
"You don't have to survive it. Not anymore. And not alone." He reached for her, resting his palms on her shoulders, thumbs caressing her exposed collarbone. "There's so much I can show you. So much you can learn. Let me help you accept this part of yourself." He implored her with his eyes and stroking thumbs, his message clear. Believe me. Trust me.
She jerked away from him, away from his touch. It was too potent, too tempting. Once was forgivable, twice would be unconscionable. Angry with her own weakness, she brushed past him to the bathroom.
"I don't want to live with it. I don't want to accept it. This isn't normal---not for me."
"Don't punish yourself for what you couldn't control. You've suffered enough." He caught her wrist and pulled her back. "I'm not them. Neither are you."
She felt trapped beneath the weight of his stare and the strength of his words.
She jerked her arm away. Incapable of fighting him and her own thoughts any longer, she backed into the bathroom and protected herself the only way she knew how. "But that's what I see. Every time I look at you, I see them. And I see Rachel." She choked on the tears and ignored his expression. "I see her sightless eyes and her torn throat. Every time."
She slammed the door on his stunned expression, terrified he'd see the way the words agonized her. Terrified he'd reach for her again. She turned the shower to scalding and willed the noise to block out the sound of his body slumping against the door.
It was better this way. She was better alone. Even if it squeezed her heart and chilled her soul.
"Hey." Lucy walked in with a plate of breakfast and a mug in her hands. She perched on the edge of the bed and helped herself to a croissant. "Hope you don't mind." She gestured with the pastry, a grin pulling up the corners of her mouth.
"Sure." Beth peered into the mug Lucy left on the bedside table.
"Braden said you prefer tea, so I raided Mom's stash. Hope Earl Grey is okay?"
"It's great, thanks." Beth took a long sip and let the warmth of the liquid sooth her throat. "Where's Braden?" She'd been carefully avoiding him for the last forty-eight hours, leaving his room only when coaxed out for meals by a family member. They were nothing if not persistent.
"Oh, he left about an hour ago. Said he had to go into Portland for a few hours." Lucy polished off the croissant and reached for some bacon. "He said he'd be back tonight. In the meantime---" Lucy's eyes sparkled in delight. "---We're taking a girl's day."
"A what?" Beth asked, snagging the remaining croissant.
"A girl's day!" Lucy rolled her eyes. "Manicures, pedicures, the works! Shopping, too. And Mom's going to meet us for a late lunch."
"But why?"
"You've got to be going stir-crazy up here. You've barely left this room in the last couple of days." Lucy jumped from the bed, brushing crumbs off her lap and onto the floor. "It'll be fun. And you could really use some of your own things. Anyway, freshen up. Chase is playing escort this morning. He gets cranky if we keep him waiting too long."
"We wouldn't want the man with the Taser to get cranky." Beth couldn't help it. No matter how kind the Edwardses were, or how long ago it seemed, some things were harder to forgive.
"Don't say that." Lucy morphed from excited to upset in a heartbeat. "He'd never hurt you. Not now."
Guilt-ridden, Beth tried to backpedal. "Sorry. I know," she acknowledged, surprised to find it was true. "I'm never awake until I finish my first cup of tea." She smiled weakly, hoping Lucy didn't take it personally. She was obviously close to her family. Of all of them, Lucy had been the most welcoming---bringing Beth books, luring her out to watch TV, providing a steady buffer against the insanity that gripped Beth when she was left to her own devices too long. She didn't want to upset her, intentionally or otherwise.
"Where are we going? Not into Portland?"
"No. And Braden swore I didn't have to babysit. I don't have to worry about you ditching me, right?"
"I promise. I'm not going anywhere."
For now.
"Cool. Anyway, there's not a lot out here, either. Small town," she explained. "But there is this gorgeous hotel along the coast and it has a full service spa. It's amazing! I can't wait." Lucy bounced out the door. "Downstairs? Twenty minutes?"
Twenty minutes later, Beth stepped off the bottom stair. Lucy stood with her brother by the door, speaking in a harsh whisper.
Well, she probably thinks she's whispering.
"She's still afraid of you, Chase! So be nice. I mean it." Lucy had one slender finger pressed to the middle of his chest, and Chase, despite the fact that he had a good six inches on her, looked completely chastised.
"Ready?" He asked.
"Sure." Beth skirted around him as he held the door for them.
\*\*\*
Beth rolled her eyes and sighed as Lucy dragged her into another store. Her endless energy was exhausting. She'd kept up a running dialogue, most of it one-sided, throughout the day. Whether or not she noticed that Beth was largely silent, she didn't seem to care. Either way, the day had been exactly what Beth needed.
"That would look great on you!" Lucy pulled a forest green cable-knit sweater from a rack and handed it to Beth. "You have to try it on."
"Only if you try on that dress you keep eyeing," Beth pointed at the sundress in the store window.
"Nah. I don't really need it." She flushed. "I wouldn't have anywhere to wear it."
Beth pulled her over to the display. "I don't need a sweater, but you'll make me try it on. What size?" Beth flipped through the hangers and pulled out the right one. "And I don't believe for a moment you couldn't find somewhere to wear it if you wanted to." Beth gave her a knowing look as she handed over the dress. "You've chattered all day long about nearly everything. Except you..." Beth let her mouth curl into a knowing grin. "Anything you aren't sharing?"
Lucy blushed and looked away. "Nah. Nothing important anyway."
"Uh-huh." Beth pulled another couple of dresses in the same size from surrounding racks. "A good dress could come in handy. You know, just in case."
The smile Lucy answered with was so bright Beth didn't mind the extra twenty minutes she'd just bought in the dressing room. "Let's go try these on." She glanced at her watch. "We're supposed to meet your brother in a half hour."
"Can I start you a room?" a store clerk asked, gesturing toward the fitting rooms.
"I think we're ready." Beth handed over the forest green sweater while Lucy juggled the dozen or so hangers she had slung over her arm.
"You've only got one thing," Lucy protested. "We can look a little longer."
"Nah, we're running low on time and, this way, I can give you a second opinion if you need it." They followed the clerk into fitting rooms next to each other.
"Let me know if I can get you another size." The woman drew the curtain shut before she left.
Beth pulled the shirt she was wearing over head and tugged the sweater on. Lucy was right, it suited her. Beth sighed, turning right and left in the mirror. She liked it, but she couldn't get it. She didn't have her purse with her, no money, no credit cards. Nothing. She wasn't even really sure where her purse was.
Probably still scattered across my living room floor.
It was hard to believe Markko had attacked her just two days ago. So much had happened since then. It felt like weeks had passed. Part of her worried she was taking the situation too calmly, allowing herself to fall into the illusion of security that Braden's family provided.
And when that's gone? What then?
"Hey, can you take a look?" Lucy's voice cut through her thoughts.
"Sure. Come on out."
Beth pulled the curtain of her fitting room open. Lucy stepped out wearing a strapless white dress, cut close through her middle and flaring in the skirt.
"What do you think?" She asked as she did a graceful twirl.
"Very pretty." Beth considered Lucy carefully. She seemed so young, though less than three years separated them. She didn't seem to carry the same sort of weariness that dogged Beth after the full moon. Why didn't the shift wear on her the same way?
"But?"
"It depends on what you're after. It's pretty, but it's very...sweet." Beth got the impression that wasn't what Lucy wanted.
"It might help if you told me a little more about who it is you're trying to impress."
Lucy scowled and stalked back into the dressing room. "It doesn't matter. He wouldn't notice if I walked into a room stark naked."
"I doubt that. You know, sometimes guys are a little thick. They only see one thing until something else steps in front of them. Try the black one."
"You think?"
"Go ahead, I'll wait." Beth heard the rustle of hangers as Lucy pulled the one she suggested out of the pile.
"Oh." Lucy sounded a little breathless and Beth knew what she'd see even before she pulled back the curtain.
"Much better," Beth said. Lucy twirled again, wearing a fitted black number, high on the leg and completely backless. "You look great."
Lucy cocked a hip and stared into the full-length mirror. "I look so...different."
"You wear it well." Beth met her gaze in the mirror and smiled. "You should definitely think about getting it."
"The sweater looks good on you, too." Lucy smiled wickedly in the mirror. "I bet Braden would like it."
Beth pulled the curtain shut on her laughter. "Try on the others." She stepped back into her own dressing room and pulled the sweater off.
"You aren't going to be mad at him forever, are you?" Lucy sounded genuinely concerned by the idea. "I think he loves you."
Probably not.
"It's complicated." The truth was that most of her anger was gone. But anger was simple. It consumed while it was hot and provided a sort of distracted focus for all the emotions she didn't know what to do with. The confusion left in its absence was harder. And more frightening.
"I hope you guys work things out." Lucy's voice was muffled as she pulled something over her head. "This has been fun. I know it's selfish, but I've always wanted a girl in the family I could talk to, about...well, about everything. You know?"
Beth understood exactly which everything Lucy was referring to.
"That's okay, isn't it? If I consider you a friend? I know we haven't spent a lot of time together yet."
Beth twisted the sweater in her hands. The answer rose to Beth's mind more easily than it should have. It was harder to force it out of her mouth. "Yeah." She cleared her throat, dislodging the tightness in her chest. "Yeah, that's alright." She realized it was. Lucy was an amazing, generous, funny woman. And the understanding that stood between them was mutual. It was something Beth had never hoped to have again.
"Great!" Lucy said, as though nothing awkward had passed between them and resumed her ceaseless chatter.
Beth picked her shirt up off the floor and pulled it over her head. The curtain rustled behind her. A calloused hand closed over her mouth and a firm arm pulled her against an unyielding body. Shocked, she went absolutely still. She didn't need to glance into the mirror or hear the rough voice to know who held her. Her entire body fired with recognition.
Markko.
"Hello, Lizzy." The words rasped against her ear. "So good to see you again." Malicious eyes found hers in the mirror. The point of a knife pressed against her rib cage, spearing the thin material of her shirt and nicking her skin.
"Beth?" Lucy called out. "Everything okay?"
Beth's eyes dilated in fear.
She can't come in here. He'll kill her.
"Tell her you're fine," Markko whispered against her ear.
"I...I'm fine." Her voice wavered as his knife dug deeper between her ribs. "I'm just trying on this sweater again. I'm listening."
Beth eased out a ragged breath when Lucy's one-sided dialogue resumed to the backdrop of hangers clanking together.
"How sweet." Markko rubbed his unshaved cheek against her face, the texture pulling across her skin like sandpaper. "A new sister? Already?" He nuzzled the back of her ear, tongue winding a wet path down her throat. "I can smell the change on you." He bit down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder hard enough to draw blood and wring a cry he swallowed with his hand. "I can taste it on you, too."
Beth tried to pull away, to stomp on his foot, anything to get away from his rasping breath and wandering tongue. He had her pulled too tightly against him; every time she moved, he pressed the tip of his blade further into her skin. A warm trickle of blood began to snake down her side and slip into her jeans.
"Play nice. Or I'll have to hurt your friend." He stared her down in the mirror. "I could. It would be nothing to snap her neck." He watched her reaction, his smile widening. "But I won't. Too easy. Unworthy of the history between us." His fingers clenched over her mouth, nails digging crescent moons into the side of her cheek. "I'm going to move my hand. If you scream, she's dead."
He peeled his fingers from her mouth. Beth considered shouting a warning, telling Lucy to run.
I can't risk it.
She didn't know Lucy well enough to predict her actions, but she knew without question Markko would kill her.
Keep his focus here.
"Good." He kept his voice low and pulled his forearm across her collarbone.
"Hey Beth, I'm done, you ready?" Beth heard Lucy step into the hall. The only thing that separated her from death was a thin curtain and Beth's ability to keep a cool head.
"I'm trying to make a decision. I'll be out in a minute." Beth swallowed around the fear that tried to choke her. "I'll meet you up front, okay?"
"Okay. I'll meet you by the register."
When she was certain Lucy had left, Beth glared at Markko's reflection. "What do you want?"
"To finish what we started." He pulled the knife up to the soft flesh below her ear, laying the blade across her neck.
"It was finished when I walked out of that forest." Beth flinched under his wandering hand. Idle fingers slipped beneath her shirt and across her skin.
"It would have been." His eyes flashed. "But you beat my brother's head in with a rock. Left him to die."
"He murdered my sister." Beth flinched when his fingers slid over a nipple and twisted.
"And because of you my brother's dead. He lived through that night, through the damage you inflicted." His pressed the knife viciously against her throat, widening the cut. "But his mind never recovered. He was little more than a whimpering beast."
His hand slid to the top of her jeans, fingers toying with the waistband. When they dipped beneath it, Beth jerked away. "I snapped his neck and swore the last thing you would see before you died was my face.
"It took a long time to find you." His smile twisted and his eyes flashed with the fury of hell. "But I can be patient when the reward is so great. You'll come to see that, won't you, Lizzy?" His palm went flat against her stomach and he shoved his searching fingers down the front of her jeans.
Beth yanked at the arm holding the knife at her throat and tried to shimmy away from him. He pulled his hand up and pinched the flesh at her hip.
"Perhaps I'll bring your little friend, too."
Anger flared through her. She tightened her jaw and tried again to pull away from him.
"Still protective, I see. Good." He pulled the knife away from her throat, retracted the blade and shoved it into his back pocket. "I've waited so long to find you, Lizzy. It nearly drove me mad. To find you with the Edwards clan...I can't tell you how it disappointed me."
His hand fisted in the back of her hair, yanking her chin up. "It won't matter. They can't protect you. Not from me." He wrapped his other hand around her arm hard enough to bruise. "Now I see it for the opportunity it is. You'll live. For now. And every morning you'll wonder if this will be the day I strike. The day I snatch their female. Her screams will ring in your ears as you die. You'll beg for her death. Then you'll beg for your own."
He drove her forehead against the mirror; the glass and her skin splintering with the force of the blow. He released her and disappeared through the curtain before she'd slid to the ground.
Beth didn't give herself a chance to breathe. She pushed herself to her feet, braced a trembling hand on the wall and lunged for the front of the store. She plowed into solid muscle. Hands grabbed her, keeping her on her feet.
"Easy."
Relief flooded her.
Chase. Thank God.
"Lucy? Where's Lucy?"
"I'm right here." Lucy stepped out from behind Chase's solid form. "I called for Chase. You didn't sound right."
"Who was it?" Chase gentled his grip on her arms, but his voice held a dangerous edge to it.
"Markko." Her stomach turned as panic caught up with her. "He said he'd hurt Lucy."
"We're leaving. Now," Chase ordered, pulling them toward the front of the store.
Beth tried to wipe at the blood on her face and will her trembling to stop. Gentle fingers tugged her hand away from her face.
"It's not obvious. Let your hair down, no one will notice," Lucy instructed as Chase cut a path to the door. The bell jingled as they exited the shop. Chase's car sat on the curb and Lucy followed Beth into the backseat. She kept their fingers laced together for the entire ride back to the house.
\*\*\*
Markko shifted the moment he slipped into the forest, allowing his wolf to run and burn off some of the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He hadn't intended to do more than follow the bitch, he certainly hadn't intended to corner her and give away his presence. But the opportunity had been too good to pass up.
She'd trembled and quaked beneath his hands, her face in the mirror a perfect reflection of her terror. She'd been delightfully cooperative when he'd threatened her friend. And what a delightful discovery that was. The Edwards clan had another female. It made his unplanned visit with the bitch completely worthwhile.
His threats against the Edwards female would drive the woman wild with fear. And the death of both women would drive the Edwards clan directly to his father's doorstep.
He couldn't have asked for a better scenario. He'd bide his time and bring Alek in from Europe. He'd need his help to pull this off. But while he waited he'd have a little fun, let the bitch settle, and then remind her was out here.
Are you ready for me, Lizzy? I'll see to it you are.
Beth hissed under the alcohol-soaked pad Braden pressed to her forehead.
"Sorry," Braden apologized but didn't pull his hand away. "The cut's not deep. No stitches."
Beth's head throbbed where it had hit the mirror, her neck stung where Markko had nicked her with the knife and the cut on her ribs burned and pulled with every movement.
"Alright, that takes care of that." Braden pulled a tiny butterfly bandage over the cut, wadded up the wrapper and tossed it on the counter. "What else?"
Beth hesitated. Braden had carefully treated both the cut on her ribs and the cut and bruise on her forehead. With each new injury his jaw tightened and his eyes flashed, his anger mounting until it simmered just below the surface, like a pressure cooker beginning to rattle. The atmosphere in the house was charged enough. She didn't want to add to it.
"What else, Beth?" His eyes narrowed into pricks of suspicious fury.
Beth pulled the hair away from the nape of her neck and slid the collar of her shirt down.
"That son of bitch bit you!" He slid a warm hand across her cheek, cradling her head with more gentleness than she thought him capable of. The thumb of his other hand moved in soothing circles as he inspected the area around the bite. "At least he used his human teeth." He withdrew his fingers but the hand on her cheek remained. "Still, human bites are nasty."
"I've had worse," Beth quipped, trying to ease the tension radiating off him. Instead, he went absolutely still, as though he were holding himself on the edge of a point.
"I know," he acknowledged quietly.
Beth laid her hand over the one cradling her cheek and sought his eyes. "I'm okay." She put all her will behind matching her expression to the words.
He studied her face, as though trying to determine the truth for himself. Finally, he nodded, then tilted her head and began to clean out the bite.
"That bastard won't touch you again."
Beth blew out a breath and closed her eyes. "He's not going to stop, Braden."
"I don't care. We'll send you somewhere until we can handle him. But I won't have him near you again."
Beth heard the resolve in his voice, read the deadly promise in his eyes. He wasn't going to be reasonable about this. "I can't leave." Beth pulled away when he reached for the antibiotic ointment. "It'll only delay the inevitable. And make things worse for your family."
"I want you out of that monster's path. We can handle him, but I don't want you involved," he argued. "Don't fight me on this."
The moment he stepped back, Beth stood and moved away from him. "I can't. You don't understand. You didn't face him in the dressing room mirror. You didn't hear the things he said."
Beth repressed a shudder as the ghost of Markko's words slid across her ear. "He wants me dead and he's determined to make me suffer. He'll try to get his hands on Lucy, if only to torment me."
"Then she goes, too," he said, as though that settled the matter.
The thought of Lucy's vibrant energy leaving the house left a hollow feeling in Beth's stomach. Lucy had the unique ability to infuse everyone and everything she touched with a warm, happy energy. A selfish part of Beth wanted her here, buffering the darkness and doubt that lurked around every corner. But the thought of Lucy dead, lying in a pool of her own blood, her vibrancy and warmth utterly silenced, cut straight through her.
"Lucy should go. But I can't. He'll only hurt the rest of your family. If he can't get to Lucy, he'll try to hurt the rest of you." Beth clenched her fists against the fears that battered her. "Or he'll go after my family in Boston. Whatever it takes to draw me out, he'll do it. I won't let another person die because of me." Beth cut off Braden's protest with a stony glare and a sharp gesture. "You can't protect me from this. Send Lucy somewhere. Keep her out of it. But I need to be here. This has to end."
"I'm not going anywhere." Lucy strode into the kitchen, Chase hot on her heels.
"Lucy..."
"I won't be sent away like a child, Beth." Lucy pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge. "My life is here. I won't put it on hold. Besides, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself if it comes to that."
"Lucy, please." Anxiety twisted Beth's stomach. She had to make Lucy understand. "You don't understand the things he'll do..." Beth swallowed against the horror that clogged her throat. "He's determined to hurt me. You're nothing but a means to an end for him. Please, let your family protect you."
Lucy wilted and leaned against the counter. "I'm sorry this upsets you. Really, I am. But I'm not leaving my family, my home, my life. We'll work this out. I'll be careful. I'll even let this one---" Lucy said as she jerked her thumb in Chase's direction, "---dog my every step without complaint. But I'm not leaving."
"Even knowing how much additional strain it'll cause? I could face this so much easier if I knew you were somewhere safe. Please?"
Lucy responded with a toothy grin. "I think the fact that you would try to guilt me into leaving bodes well for our friendship. You must already be getting attached to me. I like that." Her sharp green eyes cut the space between them. "I'm attached to you too, though. So, sorry, I'm not going anywhere."
"This is ridiculous. I don't care if we have to haul you to the car, you're leaving," Braden raged.
Beth's expression stopped him in his tracks. "What, with a jack and a Taser?"
He shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled. "I just want you safe."
"I think we can all agree that is our priority." Mr. Edwards strode into the kitchen, followed by Anna. "But I agree with Elizabeth. Sending the girls away is unlikely to accomplish anything." He raised a halting hand when Braden opened his mouth to argue. "I understand your concern." He turned to stare at Beth. "I am sorry. Markko should never have gotten near you. We would not have allowed you to go shopping if we thought he'd be so bold as to approach you in broad daylight, in the middle of town." He sighed and wiped a hand over his face. "This is not going to be as easy to resolve as I'd hoped. I understand from Chase that Markko confirmed what we already feared? His brother is dead?"
Beth jerked her head in a nod.
"Then there will be no end to this until he's dead himself." Mr. Edwards placed a hand on Beth's shoulder. "We'll work this out," he promised. "But from a place of strength. For now, you must remain here."
"We protect our family," Anna agreed, shooting a significant look at Braden.
"Now, do I need to call Mike to come out here and take a look at you?" Mr. Edwards maneuvered Beth around and tilted her chin to inspect the bump on her head.
"No, sir. I'm fine."
A heavy frown marred his face. "Sir? Really, Elizabeth, I must insist you call me Matthew."
"We're hardly formal in this house, sweetheart. First names are fine," Anna added. How did they continue to make such an uncomfortable and volatile situation feel so normal? They acted as though they'd done nothing more than give her their stamp of approval, rather than say they'd protect her from death and dismemberment. They treated her as family.
In the face of everything else, why does that scare me?
\*\*\*
Beth pulled the bedroom door shut behind her; relived to be out of bloodstained clothes. Raised voices filtered down the hallway and snagged her attention.
"I said no, Chase," Braden growled, tightly leashed fury soaking his tone. "She's got enough to deal with."
"You aren't doing her any favors," Chase responded, eerily calm in the face of Braden's temper. Beth was beginning to realize Chase was rarely anything else.
"She's not ready. You didn't see her last night. I've never seen anyone suffer as much under a change as she did. I won't put her through that any more than necessary."
Beth moved closer to the doorway, careful to keep her footsteps quiet and her breathing shallow.
"That's the problem," Chase replied. "You don't know what that sort of change does to a person. You've never seen the wolf as a burden, as a disease." Chase huffed, the only audible sign he was frustrated. "You've never seen the change kill someone. Never seen it take such a toll that the heart stops under the burden. I have. More than once."
Shock tore through her. She'd never imagined the shift could have killed her.
"And you want to expose her to more of that?"
"It's to her credit she's come this far on her own. But she'll continue to suffer every month until she finds a balance with the wolf. She can learn. If she couldn't she'd be dead already. Either the shift would have killed her or she'd have done it herself." Chase's tone, as much as the words, struck Beth. Before now she hadn't believed he held anything but contempt for her.
"She can't take any more right now. There will be time for this later." Braden paused, "Just drop it."
"You may think you're helping her," Chase argued, "but you're only rendering her helpless. It's going to get her killed."
"I said drop it." Braden snarled, his tone as threatening as a fist.
Beth took a deep breath and pushed open the door. "Chase is right." She edged into the room, skirting around Braden. Chase was sprawled in an armchair by the desk. To look at him she'd never know he'd been arguing.
"Beth?" Braden beckoned her with a hand. "I didn't know you were there."
Chase didn't look surprised in the least.
"I think your brother has a point." Beth rubbed her damp palms against her jeans and forged ahead. "I don't know how to control this, this..." She forced herself to take a deep breath and sputtered, "This wolf."
"That'll come." Braden crossed the distance between them. He reached for her again, but stopped short when she didn't move. "It doesn't have to be now."
"When?" Beth steeled her resolve. "I've been ignoring this for a long time. I can't anymore."
"You survived. No one could have expected more." He wrapped fingers around her wrist and pulled her to him.
Beth resisted the urge to push her head into his chest and just give in.
He'll make it easy for me. I know it.
But he couldn't shield her forever. The wolf was always there, at the back of her mind, waiting for the next moon. She'd face it again sooner rather than later. Avoiding it only guaranteed another rough month. Beth pressed her hand flat against Braden's chest, the steady beat of his heart pulsed beneath her fingers.
She stood her ground.
"I can't live like this anymore." She withdrew her hand and skirted Braden. "You can teach me?" She asked, directing the question to Chase.
Chase straightened from his relaxed position and assessed her with serious gray eyes. A furrow cut a deep path between his brows. "Yes. If you're willing." He stood, glanced at Braden and headed for the door. "We'll start tomorrow after lunch."
"You don't have to do this." Braden's voice was thick with tension and something else she didn't recognize. "You've survived this long without putting yourself through this. It can wait until things are more...stable."
"No." Beth tried to push away from him, unwilling to back down but attempting to avoid the argument. "I'm sorry."
His large hand closed on her elbow, holding her in place. "I'll teach you myself after all this is over, but slowly. You can ease into it. You don't have to choose the hardest road, Beth." He pulled her around to face him, one hand brushing the side of her cheek and threading through her hair.
It was hard not to wilt beneath his pleading look and gently caressing fingertips.
He doesn't understand.
"It's my choice, Braden. Finally. My choice. I want answers. I want control."
"What's the rush?" He withdrew his hand and paced away from her. "I can answer all of your questions. Show you everything you need to know. Over time. Chase..." Braden glanced toward the door his brother had disappeared through, hostility plain on his face. "Chase won't be patient. Or kind. He'll push and pull at you until you're exhausted and spent. Give yourself some time."
"No. I've waited this long because I didn't have an alternative! What was I supposed to do? Google it? Do you have any idea how much crap comes up when you search werewolves on the internet?" Beth reined in frustration that had been mounting for years. "I survived because there wasn't any other option. Now there is. I need to understand everything about how to control this." She slashed the air with her hand when Braden opened his mouth. "No. Not soon. Not slowly. Now. Markko is out there, and I know your family will do their best to protect me, but I have to be able to protect myself. I need to do this."
"Fine." Braden physically deflated as he gave in. "But let me teach you." He reached for her again, running his fingers down the side of her face, gently skimming over the top of the bite Markko had left before moving down to rub her arm.
It took every ounce of will she possessed to resist leaning into his touch.
Don't.
She couldn't depend on him. She had to figure this out for herself, learn to deal with it on her own. She couldn't count on him to always be there, easing the way.
Rely on yourself.
She forced herself to pull away. "No. I can't trust you to push me hard enough. Chase will."
The corners of his eyes tightened and his mouth pressed into a thin, hard line.
"Please, Braden. This has to be my way."
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. "Fine." He jerked away from her and stalked out the door.
Alone in the office, Beth sank into the closest chair, suddenly lonelier than she'd been in days.
A bead of sweat rolled down her neck, slipped beneath her tank top and traced a path down her spine.
"Concentrate." Chase prowled the woods around her, close but out of sight.
"I am!" All she did was concentrate, focus, fail and try again. "This isn't helping."
"Because you aren't trying."
Beth surged to her feet, brushing forest debris from her clothes. "The hell I'm not. All I do is try. I've been trying all damn week!" She stalked across the small clearing they used for practice. Every day for the last week they'd gone out into the forests surrounding the Edwardses' home and for hours Beth struggled to force herself to shift. She returned every night, cold, exhausted and furious with her lack of progress.
"Had enough?" Chase asked with an edge of malicious humor.
"Could you be less helpful?" Beth snapped back.
"I told you what you need to know."
Beth angled her head to the right, in the direction she thought he stood. "Oh, I'm sorry. That's right. Listen. I just have to listen and everything will fall into place. Right. Thanks." Beth collapsed back to the ground, shoved fingers through her hair and tried to resist the temptation to pull it all out.
"Whiner."
The bastard is amused!
Beth pulled her fingers from her hair and dug them into the earth beneath her.
"You ready to head back?"
"Sure." Beth didn't move from her reclined position. "I'll follow you."
"Nice try."
Beth shrugged.
Worth a shot.
The thought of their house and a hot shower pulled her to her feet. The thought of wandering around the forest for an hour or so weighted her limbs. Every time they came out here Chase brought her through a different section of forest. And every night he made her find her own way home. She'd yet to manage it in under an hour or without Chase's snarky hints.
"You've denied your senses for a long time. Until you learn to focus them, you're stuck."
"Focus on what exactly?"
"Anything. Everything," he answered. Leaves rustled to her left. He was moving.
"That's specific." Beth followed the tree line, seeking any movement that would give away his location.
"What are we having for dinner tonight?" Chase asked from behind her.
Damn.
"What?"
"What's on the menu?" He dropped to the forest floor, weight on his palms and legs extended in front of him.
"Beats me." She didn't ask why he cared, though she knew he wanted to make a point. He rarely said anything otherwise.
"Hmm."
Beth watched the black soles of his sneakers move up and down as he tapped out a rhythm.
"How far do you think we are from the house?"
"I don't know." How far had they walked after lunch? Fifteen, twenty minutes? "Less than a mile."
His angled his head back, eyes closed to his surroundings. His foot stopped bouncing. He held completely still and drew a deep breath. "Mmm." He collapsed back to the ground, feet resuming their rhythmic tapping. "Pot roast."
"You can't be serious." Beth scowled in his direction. Why she'd thought he'd be better at this than Braden she had no idea. "You expect me to believe you can smell what your mother is making for dinner?"
"Sure." He stood up, forest debris raining down his jeans. He grinned at her. "Well, I can't. But the wolf can."
Beth knocked her head against the tree behind her. "Whatever."
"Don't believe me?" He shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted his head to the side.
"It's a bit far-fetched."
"Right up there with werewolves?" He punctuated his sarcasm with a toothy grin.
Doesn't he ever get tired of teasing me?
"Fine. You can smell what your mother's cooking. You can shift at will." Beth pushed away from the tree and headed toward their house. "And I can't. Fantastic."
"Want to know why?" He fell into place beside her, long strides shortening to match her pace.
"I've been asking all week," she answered, pushing a branch out of her way.
"You're scared," he continued before she could interrupt. "You don't see the wolf. You see the nightmare your mind created for you."
Beth spun on him, anger fueling her. "I didn't make it up! I didn't imagine being chased through the woods. I didn't imagine Rachel's shredded throat. I was there! I watched it happen." Her hands flexed involuntarily at her sides, fingernails digging into her palms. "I felt her blood, her flesh slip through my fingers. I didn't have to create a nightmare. I held it in my arms!"
"And every time you think of the wolf, you see it again." He advanced on her, forcing her to back pedal. "Don't you?"
"Yes!"
The weight of his stare pinned her to the spot. "That's why you can't change. It's not half as hard as you think it is. You've done it enough that it should come naturally. A reflex. Muscle memory. But every time you think about it, every time you reach for it, all you see is the monster." Chase paced closer to her, shoulders hunched, eyes intent. "The wolf didn't kill Rachel."
"I watched her die. I know what killed her."
"Who. Not what. Ivan killed your friend. The wolf was only the weapon he chose to accomplish it." Chase backed off even as his words reached in to suffocate her. "The wolf isn't the monster, Beth. You can't move forward until you accept that." Chase fell back into place next to her.
"I don't know how." Beth brushed passed him, willing the answers to come to her. Every time she closed her eyes, every time she thought about the wolf, she saw Ivan leap, heard Rachel scream. Beth wiped her palms against her jeans, certain if she looked down she'd see Rachel's blood coating them. "The memory's always there. I can't ignore it."
"No," Chase agreed. "But you can learn to see past it."
The trees around them thinned, yards ahead green lawn sprawled toward the house.
"Don't look so defeated." Chase sped up. "Pot roast, remember?"
And a hot shower.
The thought buoyed her until she saw Braden's car in the driveway.
"Besides, you're making progress."
"That bad, huh?"
Chase stopped midstride, a quizzical look on his face. "What?"
"You've been brutally honest all week. If you're doling out false compliments I must be doing worse than I thought," Beth quipped.
"I say what I mean." Chase jerked his head in the direction of the forest behind her. "You got yourself home tonight."
Beth glanced over her shoulder. They'd walked straight back to the house. No circles. No aimless wandering. No mocking or self-deprecating remarks. "I followed you."
"Did you?" Chase leaped up the porch steps. "I thought I was following you."
Beth stopped midstride. She hadn't even thought about where she was going.
Luck?
She didn't think so.
Chase held open the screen door for her. Her mouth watered as the rich aroma of pot roast engulfed her.
"Told you." Chase laughed.
\*\*\*
Braden pulled a beer out of the fridge and popped the top off the bottle on the side of the kitchen counter. His mother's voice rang down the hallway, sending him lunging for the door to the living room.
"Don't even think about it. You can help me get set up for dinner."
"Hi, Mom." Braden set the beer down and started pulling plates out of cabinets.
"Hi, honey." She kissed him on the cheek. "Haven't seen much of you this last week."
Braden shrugged. "I've been busy."
"Don't forget the placemats," she said as she set rolls on the stove to cool. "I just expected to see a bit more of you, that's all."
"I've got a job in Portland, Mom." He counted out silverware for each place setting. "There were some other things to take care of as well."
"I'm sure Caleb would have stepped in, had you asked." There was no admonishment in her tone, but Braden felt her disapproval all the same.
"Look, I needed to get things sorted in the office and, clearly, my help wasn't necessary." Braden slammed down the last of the silverware and reached for his beer.
"Not necessary," his mother agreed. She sighed and turned on him with an expression so soft he ground his teeth together. "But I know you were missed."
"Put ice in the pitcher on the counter, will you? I've made iced tea," she instructed, deftly switching topics. "Hi Beth, would you tell Lucy, and Matthew if you see him, that it's time to eat? Chase, wash your hands."
Braden turned as Beth edged out of the kitchen. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and then ducked out to find Lucy before he could say anything.
I doubt I have anything to say that she wants to hear.
He hadn't seen her in nearly a week, not since they'd argued in the study. What did she want from him, anyway? She said she needed to master the change? All right. She wanted Chase to be the one to teach her? Fine. He'd stepped out of her way, hadn't he? She could hardly complain that he'd taken the opportunity to spend a few nights in Portland, straightening out loose ends at the office, fixing the door to her apartment, collecting some of her clothes, even moving her Jeep to his garage.
She didn't have any trouble telling me exactly what she wanted from me the other night. If she wants me around more, she can damn well say that, too.
\*\*\*
Beth pulled her feet beneath her and leaned into the corner of the wooden porch swing. The air was crisp against her cheeks and the night so dark she couldn't see the tree line at the edge of the property. But the porch was quiet, the air smelled of the coming summer and she was as far away from Braden as she could get.
Dinner had been almost as strained as her first breakfast in the Edwards house. She hadn't seen Braden much in the last few days; either he'd been staying in Portland or commuting during extreme hours of the day. From the moment she'd walked in this evening to find him home, he'd broadcasted hostility. Sitting next to him had been as uncomfortable as sitting next to a porcupine. When he wasn't ignoring her, he snapped out one word answers between tearing through his food and glaring at Lucy, who kept trying to draw them into conversation.
What's his problem, anyway?
One minute he's supportive and understanding---albeit a bit grudgingly---of her decision to take control, the next he abandons her at his parents' house without so much as a word. Again. And now that he was back, he acted as though he barely knew her, rather than, than...
Than what, exactly?
They were hardly lovers, at least not anymore. So what did that leave?
The thoughts chased each other around her head until she grew dizzy with doubts and insecurities.
One thing was certain. She missed him.
And just what do I do with that?
"Spoon for your thoughts?" Lucy relaxed into the seat next to her and held up two spoons and a pint of Ben & Jerry's. "Not so fast," she said, jerking her hand back when Beth reached for a spoon. "Something's giving you premature forehead wrinkles. Spill."
"Your brother."
"Ah. Say no more." She handed over a spoon and pried off the top of the ice cream. "Men. Let's ask Ben & Jerry what they think."
Beth sighed around a mouthful of Chocolate Therapy. "What's his problem anyway?" she asked, reaching for another spoonful.
"Beats me." Lucy shrugged. "You guys have a fight or something?"
"He'd have to stick around to fight. I haven't seen him all week." Beth jabbed at the ice cream with her spoon.
"Hmm. What about before?"
"Before?"
"Yeah, before he up and disappeared? Something must have happened."
"Not really. We disagreed but he came around."
"He's not acting like it," Lucy observed, pushing the swing back and forth with her toe. "Classic Braden. Ignore the problem. Sulk and brood."
"Like that solves anything," Beth grumbled.
"I didn't say it was rational. What did you expect? He's a guy. If he isn't yelling and fighting through conflict, he's sulking and brooding until he gets over it."
"Yes, God forbid he actually tell me whatever it is that's pissed him off."
Lucy threw her head back and laughed. "What kind of men have you been dating?" Her eyes danced with mirth. "The men I know deal with conflict in one of three ways---they beat it up, they brood about it or they ignore it all together. If you hold out for Braden to tell you what's crawled up his ass, you've got a long wait ahead of you."
Beth groaned. "How long is long?"
"A decade, maybe two?" Lucy sobered a little. "The point is, if you want this resolved, you better figure out what started it and approach him. So, back to the original question, what did you fight about?"
"He didn't want me to work on learning to control the shift." Beth sighed and twisted to face Lucy. "He said it could wait until after Markko wasn't a threat."
God only knows when that will be.
Nothing had happened in the last week. No sign of Markko. Nothing.
"And you didn't want to wait?" Lucy asked, redirecting Beth's thoughts.
"I didn't want to wait," Beth agreed.
"I can understand that. You've waited long enough."
"Yeah. He didn't get it." She still didn't understand why. She'd expected him to push her to embrace the wolf. As far as she could tell, his entire family thought of it as perfectly normal.
"He obviously gave in though." Lucy stared out at the woods, a smile curling her lips. "Anything else?"
Beth studied her hands for a moment. "I think I might have hurt his feelings."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. After I told him I wouldn't wait, that I couldn't wait, he offered to help." Beth winced even as she thought the next words. "I asked Chase instead."
"And you sit here, wondering why he's pissed?"
"You're laughing at me!"
"Well, yeah. I mean, come on. How many men have you dated?"
"I can see how that might have hurt his feelings or something, but I explained why." Exasperated, Beth turned to Lucy and pinned her with a frustrated glare. She stopped laughing. Mostly. "Chase is less likely to baby me...it's not like I've got a ton of time." Beth looked back toward the tree line, searching the shadows. "I don't want to be defenseless."
"You aren't defenseless. You have us, Beth. I wished you believed that," Lucy whispered.
"Your family's been great. More than I expected."
"What, the Taser and the trunk didn't impress you?"
"You know what I mean." Beth bumped her shoulder against Lucy's. "I just don't want to be dependent on you guys. I need to be able to take care of myself."
"You are one of the most capable women I've ever met."
Beth snorted.
Capable is not how I'd sum up the last few years.
"I'm serious. The things you've endured...I don't think I could have managed. You survived both the attack and the change. Either could have killed you. It's admirable." Lucy set the ice cream between them and wrapped cold fingers around Beth's hand. "But there's no shame in relying on someone."
Knowing that and trusting that are two different things.
"He does care about you." Lucy broke the tension with an exasperated sigh and roll of her eyes. "He's reacting like a typical alpha male. Crush the problem. Protect the female. Trust me, I know. Baby sister talking here."
"How do you deal with it?"
"First...I tell them to shove it up their asses."
Beth laughed. The picture of pint-sized Lucy telling Braden or Chase or anyone to shove it anywhere was ridiculous yet crystal clear in her head.
"Seriously. You've got to set boundaries. Like now. If Chase had his way, he'd be my permanent shadow until Markko crawled back under his rock. Instead, I let him drop me off at work in the morning and I let my father pick me up. I could make an issue of it. I know I can take care of myself." Lucy shook her head, a rueful expression on her face. "So do they for that matter. But it isn't worth the argument. Compromise."
"I can't compromise on this, though. I'm not willing to wait and I don't think Braden could push me to learn as quickly as Chase can." Beth reflected on the last week, familiar frustration rushing through her. "Then again, I'm not getting anywhere with Chase either."
"Nah. Chase knows what he's doing. He helped me through my first year of the shift."
"Really? I thought you were older than Chase."
"I am, but he's been dealing with his wolf for a long time. I didn't take the bite until I was nineteen. Everyone helped, but Chase and I have always been close." Lucy seemed far away. "He's a great teacher---probably knows more about the wolf than anyone I've ever met. You made a good call."
"That doesn't solve the situation with Braden."
"It's like I said, compromise. Look, you guys haven't exactly had the best week of your relationship, you know? He shoved you in a trunk and you hit him in the head with a jack. You both find out you don't know each other as well as you thought. Add that to the fact that you basically told him you didn't need him, more than once if I'm not mistaken, and it's no wonder he's been hiding from you."
"I never said that." Though a part of her wanted it to be true. She didn't want to need him, didn't want to rely on him. That she found herself wanting him as much as she did scared her silly.
"You didn't have to." Lucy popped the lid on the ice cream and stood up. "You told him what you needed, good for you. But his alpha male brain interpreted that to mean you didn't need him."
"So what do I do? I can't give him what he wants."
"Or you don't want to. Either way, find a way to let him be protective, or supportive, or whatever. Trust me, I know my brother. His ego's bruised."
Beth considered what she could offer as an olive branch. Or even if she wanted to extend one. She didn't like that Braden had been hurt by her decisions, but at the same time, it was his ego dictating that hurt. She didn't deserve the cool regard he used when they were in the same room. Besides, she wasn't trying to jump-start anything, just smooth things over and decrease the tension between them.
Still, Lucy's right. I have to approach him.
"I don't know what to say to him..." Beth looked to Lucy for a suggestion.
"Sometimes, all you need is a fresh perspective. A different look at an old problem," Lucy offered. "Sounds like maybe you've hit a wall with Chase. Maybe another opinion will make more sense."
Two birds with one stone.
"Thanks."
"Sure." Lucy smiled brightly and pulled the door open. "Worst-case scenario? Shove him up against the wall and kiss him. I hear that works, too."
"Good night, Lucy."
Braden sat relaxed on the guest bed; ankles crossed and propped up on several pillows, completely focused on his laptop.
Beth knocked lightly on the open door. "Hey."
"Hey." He answered, not bothering to glance up.
Short and gruff. Great.
"Haven't seen you much this week."
He finally looked up, the weight of his stare pinning her in the doorway. He set his laptop aside and swung his legs off the bed.
"I had to take care of some things at work."
"Right. Of course." She shifted from foot to foot, tempted to retreat down the hall.
He exhaled and the lines of tension seemed to flow off his back like water. "You don't have to hover in the doorway, I won't bite."
"Promise?" She sat on the edge of the bed next to him. "You seemed a little hostile at dinner."
He dragged his hands through his hair and then scrubbed at his face. He exhaled a groan and said, "Sorry. It's been a long week."
His lifted his hand, pushed her hair over her shoulder and allowed his palm to slide down the length of her back. "I got things in order at work. Hopefully, I won't need to go in again."
It didn't escape her notice that he left himself the option.
His hand continued to stroke her back, as though he wasn't even aware of doing it. She forced herself to remain still under the caress, afraid if she moved, she'd shatter the peace between them. Instead, she allowed herself to enjoy the warm weight of his hand and the way he always seemed to be reaching for her, as though he couldn't help himself.
"I missed you." The words tumbled out before she realized she'd thought them.
His hand abruptly dropped away. "How'd it go with Chase?"
And just like that, the gulf between them reopened and swallowed the preceding minutes.
"Frustrating." She sighed. "It's harder than I thought it would be. I'm not making much progress."
"The shift is going to be uncomfortable until you get used to it, but it shouldn't be as painful as before."
"I wish that were the problem. I haven't been able to shift at all."
Braden's forehead creased in confusion and his warm hand settled back against the small of her back. "At all?"
She shook her head in confirmation.
His hand started moving in small, soothing circles. "Chase give you any idea what the problem is?"
"He thinks I'm afraid of it."
"Of the shift?"
"Of the wolf," she corrected. "He said I don't have an accurate picture of what the wolf is, and that as long as I associate it solely with Rachel's death, I'll continue to struggle."
"Hmm." He moved closer, his arm snaking around her, encouraging her to lean toward him. "Let me guess. He's been trying to get you to focus your senses."
"Yeah." Beth pulled away. "How'd you know?"
"Because I know Chase and he never does things the easy way."
"There's an easy way?" Beth asked, searching his face for an answer.
"Well, more than one way, at least." He pulled his hand away from the nape of her neck, fingers trailing lightly down her arm, leaving a wake of goose bumps. "What's he got you focusing on?"
Beth's heart lodged in her throat. Braden's stare seared through her clothing, warming her skin with a flush that spread from her chest up through her neck. His fingers continued to trail up and down the inside of her forearm, shooting dancing bolts of awareness through her. "I..." She had to stop, take a deep breath and focus on his words, rather than his fingers. "Everything. He's not specific. Just focus, focus, focus. If I focus any harder, looks really will kill and he'll drop dead."
Braden laughed and curled his fingers around her forearm, keeping her from putting space between them. "Chase is excellent at the big picture. He can assimilate information from all of his senses faster than anyone I've ever met." His other hand slipped into her hair and pulled her face toward him. "The rest of us mere mortals generally need something a little more singular."
Braden's lips moved over hers, his breath a teasing caress. "Focus, Beth."
Warm lips pressed against hers, gently at first, then building in pressure. Beth willed herself to relax into the kiss, push away the worry that crowded her mind and just enjoy the warm press of his lips against her own.
He pulled back, the fingers at the nape of her neck kneading against the tension. "Focus."
Beth opened eyes she hadn't even realized she'd shut and whispered, "On what?"
He laughed lightly and touched the tip of her nose with his. "If you have to ask, I'm not doing this right."
Beth smiled. "It's hard to focus when you're doing things like that."
"Hmm, maybe I'm doing it right after all." He pressed another kiss to her lips, but didn't let it gain momentum. "Focus on the strongest sensation. Wolves have far better senses than we do. Their ability to hear, their sense of smell...we can harness those senses in human form. It's what Chase has been trying to show you." He leaned in again, his lips ghosting over hers as he whispered, "Focus on me."
His lips descended, warm and coaxing against hers. Beth fell into the warmth that connected them and responded. She covered the hand he tangled in her hair with her own, and slid her fingers over the back of his palm and across his wrist to stroke lightly against the corded muscles of his forearm.
He groaned and shifted closer to her, tilting her chin and angling his head. His tongue slid into her mouth, stroking against hers in a sensual dance of reacquaintance.
Sliding both her arms around him, Beth pulled a knee up on the bed and leaned forward, pressing into his chest. He wrapped both arms around her, used her momentum and rotated over her until her back was pinned to the mattress. He pressed the length of his body against her, his weight warm and solid between her legs, bracing her as she fell completely into the kiss.
His heartbeat pounded in her ears, urging her pulse to rush to match it, sending blood pulsing through her veins and molten heat to the center of her. She arched and bit off a cry, sinking teeth into her lower lip when fingers slid up under the hem of her shirt. His questing fingertips found a nipple and coaxed and teased it to hardness, forcing a moan from her mouth that he greedily absorbed with his own. His lips quirked and grinned against hers, then traced dancing patterns down her jaw until they reached the juncture of her neck. Teeth and tongue nipped and caressed against her sensitive skin. She sank her fingers into the hair at his nape and held his mouth against her neck.
Panting, she inhaled. The scent of him pressed against her nose and dominated her palate; the rich scent of earth and air, just before a supercharged storm. It sent her into a frenzy. She arched her back and shifted restlessly, undulating under his weight as she tried to press every corner of her body against his.
He pulled his head away from her neck, sealing his lips back over her own, tongue thrusting, tasting and imprinting him on every aspect of her consciousness. She moaned again and he turned aggressive, pressing her further into the mattress, nipping her bottom lip and pulling her leg up to wrap around his waist.
Thoughts, both alien and her own, drove her to score her nails down his back.
Her primal reaction sent her spinning back to reality. She wrenched her mouth from his, breathless and panting, and tried to reign in the sensations firing in and around her.
She placed a trembling palm against his chest. "I...I just need a minute." Her thoughts raced and she realized that although her mind had pulled away from the firestorm of sensations, her body still moved restless and yearning beneath his.
How much of this reaction is me? How much is the yearning of an animal?
The question sliced through the remaining haze of lust. She pushed at him and tried to sit up. His didn't move, his forehead creased and his face caught in a grimace as though he waged an internal war. His heart beat furiously beneath her palm. Finally, he pushed himself up and rolled away, his fists clenching by his sides, as though he were physically restraining himself from touching her.
Beth sat up and swung trembling legs over the side of the bed. "That was..."
"Intense?"
"Yeah."
"And now you're running away. Again." His voice was harsh and grating, his breath still coming in forced pants.
"No." Defensive, Beth slid off the bed and moved toward the door. Braden pinned her with a feral look. "I---I need some space. Some time to process."
Braden sat up and bared his teeth. "Fine. Take all the time you need."
"I'm sorry." She said, uncomfortably aware that they'd come full circle.
Braden rose and prowled toward her. She matched every step he took until she was in the hallway.
He stopped dead in the doorway. "Christ, Beth. I'm not going to attack you." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, then shoved them in his pockets. "We're on your schedule." He reached for the door, white knuckles gripping the knob. "It's late."
"I'm sorry."
"So you've said," he replied, working the muscles along his jaw.
"What do you want me to say? That this is fine? That I'm okay with this?" Hurt and anger fueled her words. "Because I'm not. I can't help it. I don't know what's me anymore! I don't want to be driven by an animal. Consumed by its needs."
"Please," he growled. "That's just the handy excuse you use to keep putting space between us."
"It's true!"
"And convenient!" He countered. "Okay, fine. You're unsettled. This part of yourself scares you, but that's not all of it. Hell, that's not even the bulk of it."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yeah, you do. You just won't admit it. But I'll enlighten you, anyway. You think the wolf scares you? You're afraid of losing control? Bullshit. You're afraid of living with it, of liking it. You're so wrapped up in the guilt you feel over Rachel's death you can't see straight. The more you learn, the more you practice, the farther away from the monster you get. And it terrifies you. You can't stand the thought of embracing a part of you that reminds you of Rachel's death. So you bury it. Ignore it. And you push me away."
"That's not fair."
"You're right, it's not. But that's on you." He slammed the door shut behind him and moved toward the stairs. "I'm done. When you're finished punishing yourself, let me know." He descended the stairs before she could reply.
Beth took in a deep breath of forest air, closed her eyes and tried, again, to focus. She'd tossed and turned the entire night, lying awake and unsettled by the intensity of her encounter with Braden. She still wasn't sure what to do about him. But one answer had come to her in the darkness. She finally understood what Chase had been trying to teach her. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that she needed to start by focusing exclusively on one object, with one sense, and then open herself to the rest of them. Last night it had been the feel of Braden pressed against her, warm and deliciously male, that had finally snapped her senses into focus. Just the echoes of the sensations were enough to arouse her.
Beth pulled herself away from the memory and allowed herself to only consider what it taught her.
Focus on one thing. Let your senses spread from there.
Instinct, rather than determination, would get her what she wanted. Widening her stance, she let her eyes fall closed and focused exclusively on the first thing she noticed.
Chase, standing next to her, radiated heat and his breathing was slow and measured. In, out. In, out. In, out. Without thought, Beth altered her breathing to match his, the sound of air rushing through lungs and out the nose the only thing she heard.
"What do you hear?" Chase's voice joined the sound of their breathing, sending her concentration wobbling.
Maintaining her exclusive focus on what she heard, Beth assimilated Chase's voice. He repeated the question every few breaths like encouragement, until it layered into the sounds of their lungs stretching and collapsing, so intertwined it was almost indistinguishable.
Beth snapped her head toward a faint rustle to her right, tracking the sound through the underbrush.
"You hear that?"
Beth nodded, and then realized Chase's voice didn't block the other noises she was processing and decided to try to vocalize her answer, "Yes."
"Good. Where?"
Beth focused again, pulling the sound to the forefront of her mind, actively muffling the various sounds that were beginning to seamlessly flow with Chase's voice and their breathing. "A little to our right, moving closer."
"How big is it?"
"Small, I think...but it sounds loud. Louder than I think it really is."
"Good. Now, track its movement, and the next time it stops, I want you to open your eyes and tell me what you see."
Beth frowned, a line of uncertainty creasing the skin between her eyes. She wasn't sure she could maintain her focus if she opened up another sense.
Sensing her hesitation, Chase said, "You can do this. Remember, you aren't opening up all of your senses. You won't drown. Find the noise, focus only on it. When you are certain of where it is, open your eyes. See past everything else---the trees, the grass, everything. Your only concern is what's making that noise."
She pushed Chase's voice out of her awareness. The undergrowth rustled. Closer now. Again. Creeping nearer to where she and Chase stood. She tracked the sound, each crunch and brush of undergrowth drawing her attention like a ping on sonar. When it stilled, and didn't move again, Beth opened her eyes.
"What do you see?"
"Red." It moved again, the sound still clear to her, though no longer her primary focus. "It's small, maybe a cat?"
Chase laughed. "Not out here, look again."
"It's in the undergrowth again, I can't see it."
"Can you hear it?"
"Yes."
"Then be patient."
Red fur darted between the trees, a flash of bushy tail. A glimpse of pointed ears. "It's a fox. A young one."
"And what do you want to do?"
The reply burst from her without thought. "Hunt."
"Then focus on the senses you need to do that. On the legs that will make you fast enough, the ears that will hear every flick of his tail against the forest. Focus, and let the shift happen."
Beth floundered for the first time that morning, two halves of her warring with each other. One half insisted she hunt. The other insisted she had no reason to. "I..."
"Don't hesitate." Chase's voice was a grating whisper that silenced her conflicting thoughts. "Trust your instincts to guide you through the change. You can do this."
No, I have to do this.
She focused on what she remembered of being a wolf and trained her senses on the noise the fox made as it circled away from them. The pain of the first muscle contractions caught her by surprise. She wavered, then redoubled her focus and slid into the change.
Less than a minute later, Beth stood on four shaking legs, still trembling from the change, but not aching as fiercely as she was used to. Stretching and arching, Beth shook off the last of the residual tension, then inhaled the forest scent that surrounded her. The musty fragrance of the forest rushed through her snout, her instincts separating the interesting smells from the nonessential, the most vibrant standing out like homing beacons. She smelled the way the morning dew dampened the earth, the far off stink of a skunk and the fur of the fox, coated in the earthy smell of his den.
Ears perking and eyes seeking, Beth rotated to where the fox last moved through the underbrush.
A rustle of leaves.
A flash of red.
Instinct took over. Her hindquarters hunched and her eyes fixed on the patch of red, bright against the green of the leaves. She thrust with her legs, pulled her forepaws underneath her and dove into the brush.
She came down hard and unbalanced, the force of her leap and the momentum of her body tossing her hind legs up and over, sending her rolling through the bushes. The fox skittered and raced away, disappearing out of sight. Chase's laughter rang in her ears.
Beth picked her way out of the brush and trotted up to him.
"Well someone's happy despite their loss." Chase smiled smugly and glanced toward her tail.
Embarrassed, Beth willed her tail to stop swinging happily back and forth like a puppy who'd just chewed up a favored pair of shoes. Unsuccessful, she plopped her butt to the ground and growled a warning.
"Don't worry about it. Everyone acts that way the first time. And everyone misses their first time, too." He smiled a toothy grin and sat so they were eye to eye. "You'll learn to control it better, balance your instincts with your reason." Chase paused, considering her somberly. "It's what makes us so dangerous. We keep our human minds, but have the instincts and abilities of an apex predator. With the right balance, the sheer predatory power of the wolf can be beautiful, even when deadly. It's our human half we have to control. The temptation to revel in power is a far more potent force than you realize."
Beth cocked her head, considering what Chase was trying to tell her. She thought about Rachel and the way she died. It was still difficult to believe that the wolf wasn't vicious or evil. It was, after all, the wolf's senses that had hunted them down, the wolf's fangs that had ripped Rachel's throat to shreds. Even now, all of her senses seemed to be analyzing and dismissing everything around her with only two criteria in mind: prey or threat. If it fit into neither category it was dismissed. It certainly seemed like the part of her consciousness dedicated to the wolf was pretty single-minded and very violent.
She knew instinctively what would have happened had she caught the fox. Saliva flooded her mouth at the thought and disgust surged through her.
"I can see that you're still struggling with the distinction. That's fine." Chase extended careful fingers, running his hand over her head and around her ears before quickly withdrawing. "Alright. Let's work on getting you back on two legs. Then we'll do it again."
\*\*\*
Beth slunk around the door Chase held open for her, keeping her body low to the ground, her ears flicking back and forth.
This is so embarrassing!
The loose clothing she left the house in that morning hadn't survived her first shift. Chase had whipped around just in time to avoid seeing anything that would truly embarrass her---or infuriate Braden. They'd had to spend the rest of the morning with Beth clutching the torn remains of her T-shirt and Chase standing thirty yards away, looking in the direction of the house. Thank God the first shift had been the hardest and the rest had gotten progressively easier because Beth didn't think she could have focused too long standing naked in the middle of the forest. As there was no way in hell she'd walk back to the house naked, she'd been forced to come back in wolf form.
Hopefully, I can sneak in before anyone notices.
Beth scrambled up the stairs, her nails clicking against the hardwoods.
"Better be careful. There will be hell to pay if you scratch those floors." Chase's amused remark faded as she bolted down the hall and toward her room. She drew up short when she finally made it to her door.
Shit, it's closed.
A whine escaped the back of her throat when her paw slid uselessly off the doorknob. Wrapping her jaws around it didn't get her anywhere, either.
Crap.
She just wanted to get into the room, shift back, and feel human again. The only thing standing in her way was a closed door.
It isn't even locked for crying out loud!
Beth tilted her head and considered her options. Shift back and risk being caught naked. Or go get someone to open it for her.
"Need a little help?" Braden's laughter surprised and irritated her, raising the hair between her shoulder blades.
Beth turned and pinned him with an icy glare, then scratched lightly against the door.
"Miss having thumbs, huh?" Braden hooked his own thumbs around the outside of his jean pockets and leaned casually against the door to the office.
Beth laid her ears flat against the back of her head.
Jerk. Don't just stand there grinning!
He could at least be a gentleman and open the door for her. Pulling her lips back, Beth tried for a menacing snarl. That got her full-blown laughter. Frustrated, she darted down the hall, past Braden and into the office. Glancing around wildly for something of Braden's, her eyes landed on his shoes, discarded by the desk.
Barely broken in leather.
They looked expensive.
Perfect.
Beth snapped one up and whirled past Braden, heading for her door.
"Shit." He scrambled after her. "Those are new!"
Beth sat next to her door, pinning Braden with a challenging stare. When he didn't immediately move, she let her jaw work around the shoe.
"Christ. Okay, okay." He lunged forward and swung the door open for her. "There. Happy, now?"
Beth dropped his shoe and darted past him, moving straight for the bathroom. She heard him moaning something about drool before she was distracted by the spasms that wracked her as she willed herself back to human.
The shift left her shaking and leaning against the sink counter, panting for the first few seconds. It still hurt, every time, but it was a little easier every time, too. She no longer felt every bone and muscle snap and stretch; it was all starting to blur together into one short phase. Chase seemed to think it would get even easier.
She stuffed her arms through her robe and cinched the belt around her waist before she headed into the bedroom, intent on grabbing a change of clothes and taking a long, hot shower.
"Those were new, you know," Braden whined.
"I hope I left teeth marks," she said as she pulled fresh underwear out of the dresser.
"Aw, come on," Braden said, fingers grasping the belt of her robe and pulling her to him. "Don't be mad. Teasing is an Edwards tradition."
He didn't pull her flush against him, but the heat of his body still managed to seep through the thin silk of her robe, vaporizing her thoughts. When he ran the pad of his thumb down her cheek and over her bottom lip, she relaxed and leaned into him.
"I'm not an Edwards."
He pulled gently away. "No. But you still belong here." He studied her for a long moment and then released her. "Congratulations, by the way. You've obviously had a breakthrough." His voice was a soft caress, a stark contrast to the hands that slid firmly around her, stroking over silk before coming to rest on her shoulders. A zing of arousal shot through her and exploded into whirling, sparkling bits of energy.
Obviously mistaking the tension in her frame, Braden pulled away, his face shuttered. "Not everything has to be such a battle, Beth. You can trust this."
I want to. So badly.
He held himself at arm's length, obviously struggling with his desire to pull her closer. She reacted to his gesture without thought. Stepping forward, she slid her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulled him down and met his lips with her own. Taking advantage of the way his mouth hung open in shock, Beth angled her head and slid her tongue against his.
Braden grunted in surprise, then came alive, his tongue darting in and out, tasting her as his hands gripped her bottom and pulled her to him.
Beth allowed herself to fall into the embrace, ran her hands over his broad shoulders, then down, along the corded muscle along the length of his spine. When she found the waist of his jeans, she slid her hands along the top, then under the shirt, her nails skimming over the smooth skin of his back.
Hands kneading her through the silk of her robe, he kicked the door shut with his foot. It bounced back, clipping him in the shoulder.
"I need to talk to you." Chase stood in the doorway, eyes flashing.
Groaning, Braden pulled away, Beth's fingers slipping from beneath his shirt. "Right now?"
"Now," Chase barked and whirled from the door.
The muscles along Braden's jaw clenched as he ground his teeth, but he released her and stepped away.
"Hold that thought?"
Beth tugged at the hem of her robe and nodded.
"I swear, I'm being punished," he said as he disappeared through the door.
"What's the problem?" Braden asked as his feet hit the bottom of the stairs. "And great timing, by the way."
Chase's eyes cut through him, slicing away his frustration like talons through flesh. "Someone's outside Lucy's studio. I'm on my way now."
"Shit. She say who it was?"
"No, she couldn't tell." Chase grabbed the keys off the hook by the door. "I'm going to go pick her up. You need to stay here with Beth. Call your parents. Caleb, too."
"Caleb's still in Portland." Braden followed Chase out the door and down the front steps to his car.
"Call him anyway." Chase swung into his car, slamming the door behind him. The engine revved and he rolled down the window. "Stay here, I'll be back."
Braden grabbed the steering wheel, keeping Chase from peeling out. "She's at the studio Chase, in the middle of the afternoon. It's bound to be packed. Don't cause a scene."
"I'm going." He put the car in reverse and hit the accelerator at the same time Braden snatched his hand back. Chase gunned the engine, spewing gravel and fishtailing as he made a hard right on the main road.
"What's happened?" Beth stood on the porch, clutching her robe around her.
"Lucy thinks someone's outside the studio. Chase has gone to see what's going on."
"Is she okay?" Beth strode rapidly off the porch, concern tightening her face. "Does she know who it is?"
"She's fine. And no, we don't know who it is." Braden propelled her back into the house. "Come on. I've got to make some phone calls."
"Will he be all right by himself?" Beth asked.
Braden locked the door behind them. "Should I be jealous?" When Beth didn't rise to the bait he continued, "He'll be fine. He's likely to have a harder time with Lucy than anything else." Braden took the stairs two at a time, heading for the office.
"What? Why? He's just going to bring her home, right?"
"I'm sure that's what he thinks he's going to do." Moving into the study, Braden searched his desk for his cell phone. "But it's the middle of the afternoon---Lucy's ballet studio is probably full of kids. Unless she thinks the kids are in danger, she'll make Chase stick out the afternoon with her. She won't be done with classes until after seven, so he ought to be in a really good mood when they get back."
Pulling his phone from beneath a stack of reports, Braden unlocked the key guard and scrolled through his contacts list.
"How can you make light of this?" Beth demanded. "You're acting like this is no big deal."
Braden glanced up. Beth stood before him, feet shoulder width apart, hands balled into fists and her entire body charged with defensive energy. Except her eyes---her eyes showed the wild terror she was trying to reign in.
"Beth..." Braden moved around the desk, taking hold of her arm and pulling her toward him. "We've been expecting this." He smiled and used his thumb to smooth the line that creased her forehead. "We've dealt with this before. The Bolveks enjoy the game as much as the hunt and the kill. They're toying with us. Toying with you," Braden growled. "It's what they do. Markko wants you terrified, jumping at shadows. He revels in the control it gives him. He'll draw this out for as long as he can or until he gets bored." He ran a hand along the side of her face, tilting her chin up to look at him. "You can't let his scare tactics work. The less you react, the less we react, the more likely he'll grow bored and frustrated. The more likely he'll make a fatal mistake."
"You knew he'd do this?" Suspicious accusation laced her words.
"From the moment he didn't kill you in the dressing room." Beth bristled in his arms and pulled away.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Anger burned across her face.
Better anger than terror.
Braden braced himself for the heat of her temper. "What difference would it have made? Would your decision to stay have changed?"
"No."
"How about your decision to put yourself through learning how to control the shift, would that have changed?"
"No."
"I didn't think so." He reached for her again, relieved when she didn't pull her hand away. "You had enough on your mind. You didn't need any more."
She tilted her chin up, jaw setting stubbornly. "You want me to trust you? Don't leave me in the dark. I need to know what's going on."
"Okay." He pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head. "Now," he said, pulling away from her and picking up his phone, "I'm going to call my parents, alright?"
"Yeah. Fine. First, give me Lucy's number at the studio. I want to call her, see if I can talk her into coming home early."
Braden laughed, but scrolled through his phone book, jotting down Lucy's office and cell numbers on a sticky note. "Be my guest, but don't say I didn't warn you. She's as stubborn as you are." He handed the note over and dialed his father. "You can use the landline on the desk. Good luck."
She gave him a challenging look as she picked up the phone.
Braden shrugged. "You're gonna need it."
\*\*\*
Beth checked her watch again. Twenty past seven. Where the hell were Lucy and Chase? She resumed her pacing by the living room window, trying to reach out with her hearing. Was that a car approaching?
No.
Nothing. Just a faint buzzing noise and a headache. She couldn't calm down enough to concentrate. Braden had been right, of course. Lucy had adamantly refused to leave the ballet studio, insisting that she had a job to do and that Chase could hang out with her for the afternoon. Beth still didn't understand why Lucy had sounded positively gleeful about it.
"You keep that up and I'm going to have to replace those floorboards." Anna appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Come on, you can come help me put dinner together."
Beth pulled herself away from the window and followed Anna into the kitchen. "What can I do?"
"I've mostly got dinner handled, but I was going to try my hand at some apple turnovers. you could give me a hand with those." She gestured to where a sheet of phyllo dough was warming on the counter. "Can you cut those out for me?"
"Sure." Beth pushed her sleeves up and then set to work rolling the dough out onto wax paper, comfortable in a task she'd done many times in Angie's kitchen. But the distraction didn't last long. By the time Beth was laying neatly cut pieces of dough out, she was glancing out the window every thirty seconds.
"They'll be fine," Anna said, an amused smile softening her expression.
"I don't know how you do this, how you stay so calm." Beth brushed her arm against her forehead, trying to push her sleeve back up her arm. "It's so stressful."
"It's not always like this. In fact, more often than not, I forget there's anything different about our family. Conflict like this is pretty rare."
"I'm sorry." Not for the first time, Beth wondered if she wasn't being unconscionably selfish staying with Braden and his family. This wasn't their problem.
"Don't be ridiculous." Anna waved her off with a hand. "We were probably due. It's been years since the last confrontation with the Bolveks. And, well, in a family with three sons, and a husband who tends to get pulled into their adventures---" Anna replied as she made quotation marks with her fingers and rolled her eyes, "---you learn to expect these sorts of things."
"So it doesn't bother you that I brought Markko to your doorstep? That he threatened Lucy, probably just because she was with me?" Beth asked incredulously.
Anna stuck out a finger and leveled her with a glare. "First, you didn't bring Markko here. I promise you, he'd have shown up sooner or later." She held up a warning hand when Beth started to argue. "You didn't. Braden brought you here and, while I'm not endorsing his method of transportation, the bottom line is you are important to my son. Therefore, you are important to us. It's that simple." Anna considered her quietly for a long moment. "I hope someday that won't bother you so much."
"I hope so, too," Beth said, feeling Anna gazing shrewdly at her, looking for the lie in her words. "It's hard sometimes. You've been so accommodating. So welcoming. You and your family make everything seem so normal...I never thought I'd feel that way again." Words and emotions tangled in her throat, making her voice thick and heavy. "Sometimes I'm afraid I'm falling into your lives, into your family because it's easy..."
"Oh, honey..."
"Hey, hey. What's for dinner?" Lucy interrupted, bounding into the kitchen. "I'm starving."
"Don't leave your bag in the doorway where anyone can trip over it. And we're having pork loin. You've got about fifteen minutes if you want to go upstairs and freshen up."
"Nah. What are you making, Beth?"
"Apple turnovers," Beth answered, bewildered by Lucy's nonchalant attitude. "Are you okay?"
"What?" Lucy looked confused at first, then waved her hand dismissively, the exact same way her mother had. "Oh, you mean whoever was outside the studio? No big deal. He was gone by the time Chase got there. Probably just wanted to try and rattle us. I wouldn't have even called, except he showed up where I work and kids come in and out all day."
"I'm not sure you should go to work anymore, Lucy, at least not by yourself." Beth plowed ahead before Lucy could argue. "Look, I know you have more experience with this sort of thing, that you aren't as concerned by it. But it bothers me. I'm worried about you. I don't think you understand what he'd do to you, Lucy. I couldn't bear it." Beth pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "I know you can take care of yourself, but promise me, promise me you won't take any risks."
Lucy opened her mouth, her face set for an argument and then snapped it shut. "I promise." She slid onto a barstool. "Besides, Chase agrees with you, he's not going to be satisfied with taking me to work and dropping me off, anymore."
Beth breathed a sigh of relief. No matter how many times they tried to reassure her, she would never understand how the Edwardses seemed to take everything in stride.
\*\*\*
"What are you doing out here?" Braden asked, stepping out on the porch and letting the screen door slam shut behind him.
"Just thinking." Beth made room for him on the swing. "It's quiet out here."
"Yeah." Braden relaxed into the seat next to her, pushing the bench back and forth with his foot. "Thinking about anything in particular? Or do I even need to ask."
"I hate the waiting. I hate not knowing what's coming." Warm fingers slid against her own. She let her head rest against his shoulder. "Sometimes I forget Markko's out there. Your family makes everything so easy." She was coming to rely on their support to the point that she wondered if she could manage on her own anymore. She didn't like the feeling that left her with.
"I understand. Forgetting what's out there, even for a little while, makes it that much harder to deal with when you're abruptly reminded. Like today." Braden pulled her toward him and wrapped an arm around her, his hand lightly massaging her shoulder.
"Like today," she agreed
"Enjoying the time you spend out here isn't a crime, Beth. Neither is forgetting that we're different." He sounded relieved by the thought. "Besides, look how much you've accomplished," he pointed out, pride coloring his voice.
"Yeah, but it took weeks to get this far. If you hadn't intervened, I'd probably still be out in the woods listening to Chase tell me to focus while I contemplated ways to kill him."
Braden laughed and squeezed her. "Chase knows how to control his wolf better than anyone I've ever met, including my father. But he isn't always the best at communicating the principles. You accomplished in less than two weeks what took me more than three months."
"I was motivated."
"Yeah, you were," Braden quietly acknowledged. "But you aren't alone. You don't have to bear the weight of this by yourself anymore."
"I don't want your family hurt, not because of me." The thought ate at her like a poisoned wound.
"They know how to look out for themselves, and even if something were to happen, it wouldn't be your fault." Braden caught her face with a warm palm, coaxing her to look at him. "It wouldn't be, Beth."
Beth nodded, her cheek caressing his palm as she did so. They sat in silence for a long time after that, Braden idly pushing them back and forth on the swing.
Movement along the tree line caught Beth's attention. Chase walked along the trees, his father a few steps behind him.
"Where are they going?"
"Hmm?"
Beth gestured toward the two men entering the forest. "Chase and your dad, where are they going?"
"Oh. Just to check the woods around the property. Two of us have been going out every night. We'll know if Markko or anyone else enters our property. It's just a precaution. Something we do routinely, anyway. You don't need to worry about it," he said, toying with a strand of her hair.
Beth sighed and balled her fists. "I wish I knew what he was waiting for."
"Would it really help? Or would it just make you worry more as time began to slip by faster and faster?"
"I don't like not knowing. I can't be prepared for what I don't expect."
"Chase and I have been discussing it."
"And?"
"There's a full moon coming up." Braden paused, but what he was waiting for, Beth couldn't tell. "It's the second full moon this month."
"Oh." Oh. It suddenly made sense. The last time she and Markko had encountered each other had been during the last blue moon. "He'd like the symmetry."
"Feel better?" Braden asked.
"Not really," Beth admitted. "But I don't feel any worse, either." She stretched her legs and took one last look at the forest not a hundred yards from the house.
Is that where it will end, one way or another?
"I think I'm going to head up to bed." She rose from the swing and turned toward the door.
"You're upset." He caught her hand as she passed him. "What can I do?"
Beth turned, caught Braden's gaze and squeezed his fingers. "Nothing. Not right now." She watched fascinated as his eyes dilated and his fingers flexed in her own. He released her hand and leaned back into the swing.
"Whatever you need. Whatever you want, I'm here," he said as he pushed himself up and went inside.
It took everything she had not follow him.
Time took on a surreal quality. One moment, Beth would find herself drawn into the day-to-day of the Edwards household---laughing with Lucy, working with Chase, easing back into a better place with Braden. They fit her effortlessly into their unit, as though she'd always been there. But then, in the next moment, something would remind her that Markko was still out there. A noise would wake her in the middle of the night, or a shadow would move along the edge of the woods and her heart rate would triple and sweat would break out along her forehead and spine. The feeling of being hunted never left her and it was growing daily.
Beth snuggled back into the comforter, trying to regain the sensation of a quiet, lazy morning. She was just drifting off when the door creaked on its hinges. Light from the hallway spilled in and Braden stepped inside.
"You awake?" He whispered.
"What time is it?"
"Early, not yet five."
"Then, no. No, I'm not."
Braden walked into the room and switched on the bedside lamp. "Come on. You've got just enough time to brush your teeth."
"What are you talking about? Where are we going?" Beth sat up and pushed her hair away from her face.
"We're going out. On a hunt. We can shift up here instead of outside if you'd like. I'll leave the bedroom door open," he promised with a grin.
"Yeah, here's good," Beth answered uncertainly. "Um, what exactly are we hunting?"
"Deer, probably." Braden caught her hand in his and dragged her out of bed. "Relax. If nothing else, you'll enjoy the run."
Though she didn't want to, Beth allowed herself to be pulled into the bathroom. She couldn't imagine why Braden sounded so excited. Did predatory instincts grow the longer a person spent as a wolf? Would she slowly become more primal, more violent? Would she even notice?
"Hey." Braden caught her gaze in the mirror as she rinsed her toothbrush. "You're worrying too much. I know you don't believe me right now, but you will enjoy this. It's another way to integrate with your wolf. You'll gain new insights on the instincts that drive it, the things that excite it."
"I don't want to hunt something down and kill it just because the wolf thinks it's fun."
Braden blocked her as she tried to push past him to the bedroom. "It's not like that." He sighed. "Look, I understand why you feel this way, but you've only seen the ugliness. There's beauty too, Beth. If you look for it."
"Not for me." She couldn't understand how there could be beauty in the death and destruction of an innocent. "I've accepted that this is a part of my life. I'm learning how to live with it. I don't need more than that."
Braden jerked away and turned his back to her. "You know, as long as you think like that, the harder this---" he gestured loosely to the space between them, "---is going to be. If you can't accept that part of yourself, it's like saying you can't accept me, Beth." He ran a hand through his hair. "Come with us this morning. I won't ever ask again, but this is something you should experience."
Before she could formulate a response he slid into his wolf form. "Shifting to avoid an argument isn't fair."
Braden cocked his head and gave her a pointed look as if to say, "I can still hear you."
Beth sighed. "Just once?"
He nodded.
"Fine." Beth slipped out of her T-shirt and underwear and slid into the shift, blocking out all of the reasons why she was doing it in the first place.
The morning was cool and moist, a thick mist lingering above the grass and winding between the trees, growing heavier as the sun rose. In the first hour they hadn't done much more than walk and sniff around. Occasionally, Chase or Braden would pick up a trail of something and they'd surge forward, but each time the trail had died out.
For Beth, at least, the lulls in the hunt were more interesting than anything else. It amazed her how much of the siblings' personalities came through as wolves. The three of them were so dynamic and different as people---she wondered that it surprised her that it held true when they were wolves.
Braden was never far from her, always hovering to her right or to her left, silently ensuring she was comfortable. He only left her side when Chase picked up the trail and, even then, she knew without a doubt that Braden instinctively kept track of her and his siblings, at all times. A big brother, even as a wolf.
Chase was different. Steadier, calmer. He moved with purpose and intent, much the way he spoke when human. He used every ounce of his instincts as a wolf to whatever purpose or task he shouldered. His gray eyes were as keen and piercing as when he was human; they could convey a message precisely. Except when he showed a restrained sort of deference to Braden, he used very little body language.
Lucy---well, Lucy was Lucy. Her personality was completely irrepressible. Even now, as they stood together, Lucy tracked a rabbit that kept darting between the trees. It was obvious by the way Lucy was twitching and moving that she was desperately fighting the urge to leap, completely heedless of success or consequences. She'd done so twice today, once after a squirrel and once after something Beth hadn't seen. Each time Lucy ended up in an undignified heap in the bushes and each time she came up empty-handed. Beth was beginning to suspect that Lucy just liked the acts of leaping and pouncing and didn't actually intend to catch anything. Even in wolf form, she was unfailingly effervescent and carefree.
Just as she looked ready to pounce again, her head snapped toward Chase, the fur along her spine rising. A split second later Chase and Braden surged up the hill, intent on something Beth couldn't see. She and Lucy broke into a run as Braden and Chase crested the hill and disappeared down the other side.
As they broke over the rise, Beth saw an expanse of forest laid out before them. Braden and Chase were ghostly blurs, passing through undergrowth and maneuvering around trees as though they were born for it. Ahead of them, a tiny flash of white darted back and forth. Next to her, Lucy surged forward and howled. The deer's tail twitched and flashed furiously as it increased its pace in an effort to escape.
Beth opened her stride and raced alongside Lucy. Air rushed through her nose and down her throat, the scent of the doe imbedding itself on her senses, fueling her adrenaline and drowning out the voice that wondered what would happen when they caught her. Instead, she focused on the sensation of her muscles bunching and stretching, her lungs heaving, her heart pounding; she'd never felt so good. Relaxed and charged at the same time.
Braden arced toward the right, zipping in and out of her vision, and Chase did the same on her left. Instinctively, Beth kept her pace and moved toward Braden, covering the landscape behind him. Lucy did the same for Chase. As they fanned out and accelerated, Beth admitted that there was something beautiful here, if she looked for it. The way that the four of them worked in synchronized harmony, coats shining and flashing in the patches of sun that pierced the leaves and mist, short howls heralding the hunt; it made a compelling picture. Fascinating. She imagined they looked a lot like the predators on television. Beautiful, powerful, lethal.
She burst into a clearing, automatically tracking Braden. She and Lucy moved in, tightening the noose that ensnared the deer. She couldn't see Chase but knew he was close.
The clearing was open on the sides but steep at the back. She, Braden and Lucy had effectively trapped the doe. Every instinct in her urged her to leap forward, fasten her jaws around the doe's throat and make the kill. Distantly, Beth acknowledged she knew exactly how to do it, exactly how much pressure it would take to bear the doe to the ground, how to break her neck. She felt her muscles coil, the wolf ready to leap at her command.
She didn't move. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her muscles quivered in anticipation and air rushed over her snout. Her brain processed the scent of the deer's desperation. But she didn't move. The wolf inside her thrilled at the chase and longed to lunge and finish the hunt. But Beth didn't. Seizing control, she sat on her quivering haunches and scanned the woods around them. Braden and Lucy prowled about the periphery, boxing in the doe, but neither of them moved in for the kill either.
Movement at the top of the rise, directly above the deer caught Beth's attention. She jerked her head up in time to see Chase's sleek body appear at the ledge, then leap, muscles flexing under a shiny coat, legs pulled up beneath his body, completely focused on his prey. He landed against the doe's back with a heavy thud. The force of his jump and the weight of his body brought her down beneath him, sending them both tumbling across the forest floor. His jaws grazed her throat as they rolled, but didn't snap shut and make the kill in the way Beth expected.
Instead, Chase pulled his teeth back and allowed the momentum of his leap and roll to carry him away from the doe, allowing the frightened animal to rise and race in a blind panic toward Lucy. Chase watched the animal go, tracking it as it disappeared into the forest, straight past Lucy who couldn't have looked less interested.
Amazement flooded Beth; Chase hadn't missed the doe's throat, he'd never intended to kill her in the first place! She finally understood what they'd all been trying to tell her---what her own experiences had shown her.
My decision. My control.
She wondered at the simplicity of the revelation all the way home and through the rest of the day.
\*\*\*
"You were quiet today," Braden said, leaning against the bedroom door.
"Just thinking." Beth flipped off the light in the bathroom and took a seat on the bed. She gestured Braden forward when he took a hesitant step into the room.
"Yeah?" He asked, sinking down next to her on the mattress. "What about?"
"A lot of things. But mostly this morning."
"Are you sorry you went with us?" He asked, trailing his fingers through her damp hair.
"No. It clarified some things for me, answered some questions." She watched, distracted as her hair caught his retreating fingers. Was there any part of her that didn't want to constantly reach for him?
"Any questions left? I can fill in the blanks," he offered, dropping his hand and pulling up a knee.
"About a thousand."
"Start with number one, we'll work from there."
"How old were you when you changed?" she asked, scooting closer to him.
"Fifteen. I was supposed to wait until I was sixteen, but Chase came along so Dad let me take the bite a year early."
"Chase, he's adopted isn't he?"
"Yes," Braden confirmed, toying with the edge of the bedspread.
"He's one of the kids you told me about, isn't he? One of the ones the Bolveks turned."
"He's my brother, Beth." He searched her face for a long moment. "He was eleven when my father found him." He turned his head toward the door. "Sometimes I wonder if he realizes how completely we've assimilated him into this family, but he's as much my brother as Caleb is. He'd never hurt you."
She gently squeezed his knee. "I didn't mean it like that. But sometimes I've noticed that he holds himself apart...Or is particularly respectful or deferential, especially around your father. I'd wondered," she admitted.
"We don't talk much about Chase's circumstances before he came here," he offered, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.
"Okay. Next question."
"Shoot."
"What about the legends? Are any of those true?"
"Specifically?"
"Silver bullets?" All the ridiculous things she'd read online over the years crowded her mind.
"Nah. Regular ones work just fine. But we do heal faster than most people. No one's sure why," he said, trailing fingers along her calf, never breaking eye contact.
"Um, what about... mates..." God, she could feel the blood rushing to her face. "Is that true? Is that why you can't seem to stop touching me, even when you aren't aware of it?" she asked, half embarrassed, half pleased to see him wince and jerk his fingers away.
"We don't mate for life, if that's what you're thinking."
"But..." She prompted.
"But, some of us believe that the part of us that is wolf responds more strongly to some people. It seems to be particularly potent when our kind falls into bed with each other. No one is sure why. It doesn't happen very often."
"Why not?" She watched, amused, as he picked as his fingernails, keeping his hands occupied and away from her.
"Because you are so rare." He caught her gaze and said seriously, "You and Lucy are the only female werewolves I've ever met, though I know of at least a half dozen."
"How many werewolves are there?"
"Thousands. But for most, it's a life they chose. It tends to appeal more to men than to women. It makes you coveted with most werewolves. Hell, more than a few have approached my father about courting Lucy."
"I bet she loves that." Beth laughed.
"She handles it well. And they always leave disappointed. Next question?"
"In the dressing room, Markko mentioned your family by name. I know you explained the history between your families, but you'd also mentioned a mythology. What is it?" That question had settled in the back of her mind, but as she grew more comfortable she found her curiosity grew as well.
"As the story goes, a thousand years ago, two brothers fought a war over land and people. The younger one was defeated and ostracized. According to the story, he beseeched Odin to grant him the power to avenge his honor and defeat his brother. Odin sent his emissaries, a pair of wolves, and gifted him with the bite. He was the first werewolf. According to the legends he turned the men still loyal to him and led devastating raids against the villages of his brother's kingdom. When his brother found out what was happening, he prayed to Odin to give him the power to stop his brother. He was the second werewolf. But there was a price attached. According to mythology, Odin desired a war that would last the ages. The two lines were destined to fight with each other until one extinguished the other. That's never happened." His fingers slid back and forth across the back of her hand.
"You're saying that your family and Markko's are direct descendants? That sounds...well, crazy."
"About as crazy as werewolves in general, right?"
"Yeah." She let her fingers unfurl so he could continue tracing idle patterns on her palm.
"I know. But that's the story. For as long as a blood relative of the Bolvek's remains, we'll always be at odds with them."
"What about all of the people they've bitten? Are they tied into this?" Was she? The thought unsettled her enough to pull her hand away from him. Was she considered an enemy? Someone destined to fight with Braden and his family? The thought sickened her.
"No. It doesn't work like that. The lineage only passes down through bite and blood. So in your case..." He pulled her hand back and squeezed her fingers reassuringly, "...you couldn't pass on the lineage because you aren't genetically related, though you do bear the Prime marking."
"Marking?"
"Yeah, the mantle. We all have it. Everyone related to one of the original descendants by bite or by blood bears the Prime Mantle." He lifted his hands and let his fingers trail over the top of her head and around her ears. "It's a patch of darker fur that drapes like this." When his fingers hit her shoulders he laid his palms flat against her and stroked her arms until he found her wrists. "Sort of like a cloak. You've never noticed? Yours is a slate gray."
"I've never looked."
"Never?" He sounded genuinely shocked.
She shook her head. "I never wanted to see. But I noticed the same marking on you and your family. I just didn't realize it was significant."
"Yeah. It's just a marker." His hands trailed back up her arms, coaxing the breath from her lungs in short, quick bursts. "And since it appears if you were either bitten by a Prime wolf, or if you're related to one, it isn't a good means of identification."
"Oh." His words faded into the background as he threaded a hand through her hair and used the other to stroke a thumb across her upper arm.
"Any other questions?"
"Yes..." She answered, leaning into the palm that cupped her cheek. "But I can't remember what they are now." She could smell him against her, strong and potent and so very enticing.
"I'm sure they'll come back to you," he murmured, his voice a whisper that slid over her sensitized skin like a caress. "Let me know when they do."
She caught his hand as he pulled away. "Don't." She leaned toward him and allowed herself to press her lips to his, fascinated by the feel of him dropping his hands, fists clenching the sheets as though they could anchor him.
"Don't go," she repeated as she pulled him against her, controlling their descent against the pillows stacked behind her. "Stay."
He braced himself above her, holding his body a scant few inches above hers. "Beth..." He groaned when she reached for the waistband of his jeans.
"Stay," she said again, and tilted her mouth to follow the statement with a kiss. She let her tongue dart against his lips. Reveled in the taste of him. In the texture of his lips as they came alive under her own.
He collapsed and rolled, pulling her with him until their bodies were flush, the strength of his need clear against her thigh.
As he brought his lips to hers, Lucy's screaming pierced the air.
Braden placed the last of the deer's remains in the tarp and bent to help Chase and his father load it into the back of their truck. This morning, when Lucy had stepped out onto the back porch, she'd slipped on the dismembered remains of a deer, screaming as she'd taken in the carnage. It had taken Braden, Chase and their father most of the morning to clean up the mess. Even now, as they loaded up the remains of the deer and washed off the porch, Braden knew that no matter how clean they got things, it would take a long time before any of them could relax on the back porch. He'd never seen his sister that ashen or Beth that grim.
"How the hell did Markko accomplish this?" Braden's anger tightened his voice. "How did he get this close without our knowledge?"
"I don't know," Chase answered quietly as he slammed the truck's tailgate closed.
"I thought you were checking the woods? How could he have gotten all the way up to our house without leaving some sort of sign behind? A trace of smell, footprints, something."
Chase set his jaw and dropped his eyes. "They must have been watching us from a distance. Or very carefully approaching the house. It would be difficult to do, most don't have the command of themselves it takes to slip in and out unnoticed. But it's not impossible."
"But why didn't we hear him? That doe was in pieces on the porch, that's not an activity that's easy to keep quiet." Braden glanced down at himself. Christ, he was a mess. Covered in blood and bits of fur.
"Markko probably partially dismembered it in the woods, then pulled the manageable pieces up onto the porch," Chase muttered. "Judging by what was left, he used his jaws, not a knife." Chase's faced pinched in anger. "I should have realized something wasn't right. He should never have gotten this close to the family."
Braden sighed. "This isn't your fault," he acknowledged. "We knew Markko was planning something, we just didn't expect him to be so bold or act so close to the house. It won't happen again."
"Alright." Braden's father tossed him the keys. "You head out---get rid of the rest of the deer. Take the old hunting road a few miles north of here---you can dump the doe out there. Chase and I are going to see if we can figure out where the bastard went. There's no way he dragged the deer all the way across the lawn without leaving a blood trail."
Braden clenched his hands, the cool metal of the keys digging into his palm. "I don't want to leave here while you're out of the house. Caleb's on his way home. When he gets out here I'll take care of this." He jerked his head toward the truck.
"Alright. But don't let your mother see you like that." His father glanced at his bloody clothing. "She won't show it, but it'll upset her."
"I'll keep to the porch until Caleb's here."
"Okay. Chase, let's go." They left with long strides carrying them to the edge of the woods where they could shift. Chase stopped a few times, inspecting the surrounding lawn, no doubt already attempting to piece together the events of last night.
Unable to go back into the house, Braden pulled out the hose and started to rinse off the porch. He'd have to come back out later with something stronger than water, but for now, this would keep him from climbing the walls until Caleb showed up. He was halfway through spraying down the porch when the screen door creaked and snapped. Beth stepped out, carefully skirting the area where the majority of the deer had been.
"Go back inside."
She looked tired and scared, but she tilted her stubborn chin at him and set her expression.
"Why don't you come inside? You've been out here all morning."
Braden turned his attention back to the spray of water, unwilling to watch Beth attempting to withstand the fear he could see trying to tear her apart. "I want to get this done before Caleb gets here."
A soft hand landed on his shoulder, another reached around and gently pried his fingers from the hose. "Come inside, Braden. I can finish this while you get cleaned up and get something to eat."
The scent of her surrounded him, pure and sweet and heady. She didn't belong out here, surrounded by the violent remains of death. "I'm fine. As soon as Caleb gets here I'm going to go dispose of the deer. I'll clean up after."
"Fine. I'll go with you."
"The hell you will. Go back inside, Beth." He wrenched the hose from her and turned away.
"No." Her arm jerked him around, the spray of the water arcing wildly. "You don't have to do this on your own."
"Look who's talking."
"Hey." Her voice softened, beckoning him to look at her. Soft fingers stroked his arm cautiously. "There's no reason for you to go by yourself. None of us should be alone right now. We'll wait for Caleb and then I'll help you get rid of the deer." She pulled him around, wrapping her arms around him. Her warmth surrounded him, offering comfort, even against the filth he knew covered him.
Braden dropped the hose and gently put his hands on her shoulders, pushing her back. He saw her eyes shutter, anticipating rejection. "I'm disgusting."
"I don't care." She reached for him again.
"I do," he said, keeping his hands firmly on his shoulders. "I don't want this to touch you."
"It already has."
Braden grimaced but didn't drop his arms.
"I've survived worse. I don't need you to protect me. This was only a cruel prank. A bloody reminder that he's out there." She scoffed, "As if I'd forgotten in the first place."
Braden squeezed her shoulders, registering the fear-induced tension that belied her words. "No one questions your bravery. Or your resilience." A rebuilt Land Rover rumbled up the drive. "That's Caleb. Please, go inside and let me handle this. Promise me you'll stay here with Caleb, Lucy and my mother while I'm gone." She opened her mouth to argue, so he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "Just this once, let me take care of things."
She studied him for a long moment and then reluctantly nodded. "Fine. But be careful."
"Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it." He squeezed her shoulders one last time and propelled her to the door. "Would you grab me a change of clothes? I'll take a shower when I get back, but I don't want my mother and Lucy to see the stains on these."
"You can't protect them from this. Lucy caught the full brunt of it this morning and I know your mother saw a lot through the screen door before your father pushed her to go into the kitchen. They're resilient, you don't need to worry."
"Still, they've seen enough. So have you. Go grab the clothes while I fill Caleb in."
"Alright." Beth disappeared back into the house as Caleb took the porch steps two a time, letting out a low whistle.
"Messy morning?"
"Yeah." Braden picked up the hose and thrust it toward his brother. "You can finish up with this while I'm gone."
Caleb accepted the hose, concern pinching his face. "Everyone okay?"
"Yeah. But no one leaves the house this afternoon." Braden snatched the keys off the porch railing.
"Dad and Chase?"
"In the woods trying to piece everything together. I'll be back in a couple hours."
\*\*\*
Braden rolled up the dirty tarp and tossed it into the bed of the truck. It had taken a little longer than he thought to find a suitable place to get rid of the deer. He hadn't wanted to dump it too near the road in case someone found it. The last thing they needed right now was a public inquiry into what had mutilated the deer. No matter the findings, it would only result in problems.
Braden pulled off his shirt, tossed it into the cab and reached for the fresh one on the passenger seat.
The forest fell silent.
He spun as fire erupted across his chest, stealing his breath and sending him to his knees.
Son of a bitch!
Two tiny prongs pierced his chest, live wires extending back to the Taser.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" Malicious humor colored the words. "I wouldn't know. I've never felt the electric kiss of a Taser. I'm told it burns like hell."
Braden gathered what strength he could, yanked the prongs from his chest and leaped for the figure in front of him. Agony arched through him, burning across his back and squeezing his heart. He fought the darkness that edged his vision as he slumped to the ground. A booted foot held him down. Another connected with his ribs.
Once.
Twice.
The last thing he saw was the boot that swung for his head.
Beth watched as the last glimmer of sun dipped below the horizon.
Enough is enough.
She grabbed her sweater off the end of the bed and hurried down the stairs. Unease had pooled low in her gut when they'd found the slaughtered remains of the deer. It had steadily grown, coating her stomach, and filling her with the heavy weight of dread. But now, as the sun set and Braden still hadn't returned, it coalesced into a solid fear she didn't want to acknowledge.
Chase rose from the sofa when she hit the bottom of the stairs. She strode to the door and pulled the first set of keys off the hook by the door. "I've waited long enough. Are you coming with me or not?"
Chase plucked the keys from her hand and hung them back up.
"I'm not waiting any longer, Chase. Something's wrong. Come with me or don't but I'm not waiting any longer."
"I'm not asking you to," he said, pulling a different set of keys off the hook. "We'll take Caleb's Land Rover---it'll handle better on the back roads."
Forty-five minutes later, Beth strained her eyes, peering into the shallow depths the Land Rover's lights cut through the woods as it bounced along the second backwoods road they'd searched. It was slow going now that the sun had set, too dark to see around corners or more than a few yards ahead. Even with the high beams on they had to take it slow for fear that they would hit something. Or someone.
"There!" Beth pointed through the windshield as they rounded another corner. "That's the truck. Stop the car, Chase." The Land Rover was still moving as she threw the door open, ignoring Chase's shout to wait.
Nothing. No Braden.
"He's not here," she shouted as Chase pulled the car closer, headlights slashing through the darkness. A beam of light reflected off something in the cab of the trunk. Beth pulled the door open and saw a cell phone sitting atop the change of clothes she'd given Braden before he left.
"What is it?" Chase asked.
"It's a phone." But it was too small to be Braden's. She flipped open the phone and the screen lit up. "Oh, God."
She handed the phone off to Chase, the image of Braden, bound and beaten seared into her mind.
"We're going back." Chase's voice was taut with fury. He slid the phone into his pocket and pushed her toward the Land Rover. "The truck's keys are still in the ignition. I'll drive it back. Take Caleb's car. I'll follow you out."
Beth couldn't move. She should have gone with Braden. He shouldn't have been left alone. God, this couldn't be happening again. She choked on the bile that tried to rush up her throat. What were they doing to him? Was he even still alive?
A rough hand gripped her elbow and whipped her around. Chase shook her hard enough to snap her head back and forth, hard enough to let his words penetrate the thick fog of panic that descended.
"Take the Rover, Beth. We've got to get out of here. Get back to the house."
Beth shook her head even as Chase pushed her toward the car. "We can't leave him out here." Hysteria pitched her voice high and shrill. Digging her shoes into the dirt she fought against Chase. "I won't let them take him. I won't."
"Neither will I. But we can't do anything from here. We need to get back to the house." When she didn't move, Chase forced her to the car and jerked open the door. "He's not dead, Beth. We'll get him back. Now go."
Beth went. Tremors shook her hands and arms and tears of fury burned her vision the entire excruciating drive home.
\*\*\*
The whole family sat around the kitchen island, shocked and silent. Anna's face was chalk-white and her fingers trembled around the mug of coffee her husband handed her.
"I'm so sorry," Beth choked out.
This is my fault.
Anna's head shot up and her fingers gripped her mug so tightly Beth was afraid she'd break the thick ceramic. "Stop it. I won't have talk like that. This isn't your fault." She slammed her open palm against the counter when Beth opened her mouth. "I mean it. Talk of blame isn't productive or appropriate. We need to focus on how we get him back. How we end this."
"She's right." Matthew said, laying a hand on his wife's shoulder. "He's alive. The pictures on this phone are proof of that."
"Is he okay?" Lucy asked, her voice unnaturally flat. Beth had only seen the photo on the phone when she picked it up, but Chase and his father had scrolled through the stored images and found quite a few more. They hadn't allowed the rest of the family to look at them.
"Nothing Mike can't handle." Matthew's arm wrapped around his wife when she dropped her head and choked back tears. "Look, he's okay right now. Markko's using him to bait you." His solemn stare fastened on Beth. "He's been playing a game of cat and mouse with you from the time you got here. The blue moon is the night after next. He wants you as uncomfortable and off balance as possible---and he obviously wants you to come to him. He has every reason to keep Braden alive."
"So what do I do?" Beth asked.
"Right now, hard as it will be, we wait."
"For what?" Lucy demanded. "For that bastard to demand Beth's head on a platter? He can't have her and he can't have my brother."
Chase moved to Lucy's side and slipped an arm around her waist. He cradled her head when she pressed her face, flushed and wet with tears, into his shoulder. "He can't have them," she whispered.
"Of course not. But for now, we're playing his game. Chase and I searched the woods this morning. Markko's not alone. At least two of them came through the woods this morning, deposited the deer and then slunk back to a car they'd parked about a mile out."
"Markko and Alek," Beth said.
"Probably. We have to be patient. Markko will contact us and let us know how he wants this to play out. When he does, we'll take control of the situation. Until then, we have to be patient and wait." Matthew handed Beth the phone. "He's going to want to speak to you, honey. Can you handle that?"
Beth closed her eyes, but curled her fingers around the phone and nodded jerkily. "What do I need to say?"
They spent the next several hours determining how to handle Markko, ultimately deciding that they would let him lead the conversation. If he ever called. Beth glanced over to the phone lying on the nightstand. How long would he wait? The clock on the bedside table read 3:45 a.m. Sleep wasn't coming. She got out of bed, grabbed the phone and slipped down the stairs.
The house was quiet, everyone sleeping or worrying on their own for the moment. She flipped on the light in the kitchen, poured water into the teapot Anna kept on the stove and waited for it to boil.
"Can't sleep?"
Beth jumped and whirled, her heart lodged in her throat.
Chase grinned apologetically. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."
"It's fine." Beth pulled the tea bags out of the cabinet. "Want some?"
"Sure."
She pulled down an extra mug and placed it in front of Chase.
"I can't stand the waiting. It's driving me crazy."
"That's what he wants. But if it helps, I'll be surprised if he doesn't call in the next hour."
"If he calls at all," Beth muttered.
"He'll call. He wants you worried and at your most vulnerable. That means he's most likely to call when he thinks you're either asleep or exhausted."
Beth retrieved the teapot as it started to steam and whine, and poured the boiling water into their mugs. For a long time she didn't drink, just kept her hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into her hands and down her arms. Was Braden warm? Hungry? Scared?
Two high-pitched beeps broke through her thoughts. Beth glanced up, then down at the phone on the countertop. It beeped twice more. Beth snatched it up as Chase's fingers closed around her wrist.
"Remember what we talked about. Let him dictate the conversation. If he asks you questions, make sure you keep your answers short, don't give him more than what he asks for. Put it on speaker when you answer."
"Okay." The phone beeped twice more in her hand. Beth shakily pressed the accept call button and answered.
"Hello?"
"Lizzy? You sound tired." Markko smiled into the phone, watching Edwards struggle against his bonds. "I hope I didn't wake you."
"What do you want?"
"I think you're the one who wants something. Am I right?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Lying is beneath you, Lizzy. We both know I have something, or should I say someone, you want. Don't we?"
"Yes."
"Good girl. Would you like to speak to him? You only have to ask."
"Put him on the line."
"That's not very polite. I think you can do better."
"Please." Her voice trembled over the phone. "Please put him on the line."
"Very good." Markko removed the duct tape sealing Edwards' mouth in one quick pull.
Edwards swore and bared his teeth.
"Someone would like to speak with you. I'm going to put you on speaker. She'll be the one to pay for anything foolish on your part."
Edwards' eyes flashed and he snapped his mouth shut, refusing to participate in the call.
"Let's not be stubborn, hmm?" Markko pushed the phone between them and engaged the speakerphone. "She's obviously worried---I'd hate to add to it. Speak or scream, it's your choice."
"No!" Beth cried out across the line.
"Beth?"
"Braden? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, I'll be fine. Whatever it is he wants, don't do it, Beth, promise me..."
Markko replaced the duct tape. "Enough of that." Disengaging the speakerphone, he put the handset to his ear. "See. He's fine."
"Let him go." Her voice was harsh and clipped, her desperation an audible balm to him.
"No."
"He's not who you want, just let him go."
"I'll admit he wasn't my first choice, but I couldn't get near your little friend. Then this one turned up this afternoon, dumping the doe I took such care to deliver to your doorstep. It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. I would have liked the opportunity to get to know your little friend, your new little sister. Lucy, was it? It certainly would have made for nice symmetry. But I was getting bored."
"What do you want me to do?"
"So agreeable, so eager. Perhaps I grabbed the right person, after all. We're going to play a little game. A few years ago, I hunted you down. It's only fair I return the opportunity. Tomorrow, at dawn, I'll send you a text message telling you where I ditched my car. You'll have the daylight hours to track me down. You have managed to shift without the pull of the moon, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"Good. Because if you aren't here by the time the sun sets, Edwards dies."
"If you hurt him..."
"I won't have to. He's not been a very grateful guest and I've had to restrain him. As the moon rises, his body will tear itself apart, much like being drawn and quartered, as I understand it---though I've never actually seen it."
"And if I get there prior to sunset?"
"Then we settle the score between us. I do hope you'll present a challenge." Markko laughed. "Though if you don't, I suppose I'll have a consolation, it'll be interesting to watch Edwards pull himself apart. I'm looking forward to it. And to you too, of course, Lizzy."
"Tell me where he is."
"Wait for my text. And Lizzy? Come alone. If I sense anyone with you, I'll have Alek tear Edwards's throat out."
Beth set the phone on the counter with shaky fingers.
"I'll fill my parents in when they get up. Then we can figure out how we'll get Braden out."
Beth's head shot up. "No. You heard Markko---he'll kill him if I don't show up alone. I have to be the one to do this."
"You aren't ready to filter through the scents of the forest, pick out a single trail and follow it. Especially not one laid down by Markko. He won't make it easy."
"You heard him. If I don't show up alone, he'll kill Braden."
"You can't get close enough on your own. But I agree that taking too many people is dangerous. I'll go with you as far as I can, then circle around and deal with Alek. You'll have to deal with Markko on your own." Chase paused and leveled a fierce look in her direction. "He's an experienced killer in both forms. If you hesitate for even a moment, he'll kill you. Are you prepared for that?"
Beth pushed away from the counter. "I have to be."
"You remember what we discussed, right? How we're going to handle this?"
"Yes." How could she forget? It was one of only two things she'd thought about in the last twenty-four hours. When she wasn't thinking about how to get to Braden back, she was thinking about what was happening to him. Markko hadn't called again, but continued to send photos, each more graphic and terrifying than the last. Her only distraction had been the time she and Chase spent agonizing over how to handle Alek and Markko when the time came.
"Tell me again," Chase demanded as he punched the coordinates Markko had sent into his portable GPS. "From the beginning."
"We drive to the coordinates. Once we get there, we shift. I let you take the lead, pick up the scent. We'll follow that to Braden."
"You know it won't be that simple, right?" Chase angled the car onto the smooth blacktop of the highway and hit the accelerator. "They've had more than twenty-four hours to lay false trails. This won't be easy."
"I know." She knew Markko would make this as challenging as possible. He wanted her sick with worry, dreading the setting of the sun, knowing that with each passing hour death closed in on Braden. Tension, so tight it forced tremors through her muscles, gripped her. It was like Europe all over again.
No. Not like Europe. This time I know what I'm facing.
A part of her, the part she kept deeply confined, snapped and snarled, leaving her emotions warring between mind-numbing worry and soul-wrenching fury. For the first time, Beth was grateful for the wolf. Every time another picture came, every time worry and agony surged through her, another part of her raged. Beyond the stress, and under the sickening despair, a storm was brewing and each passing hour, each horrifying image pushed it further toward a tempest of violence, intent only on decimating Markko.
Reining in the agitation and anger the wolf brought to the forefront, Beth listened carefully to Chase. Right now, she needed to maintain a more focused, rational thought process.
"And once we're confident we've picked up the trail?" Chase prompted.
"I'll wait, if I can, giving you time to circle around, then I proceed on my own."
"You should be prepared---Markko will insist you speak with him. He'll force you to shift back to human."
"He'll want me to feel as vulnerable as possible, I know." The thought of shifting back to human, of standing unarmed and unclothed, sickened as much as it frightened her. But she would do it. She had to do it.
"Stall as long as you can. I'll get there as soon as possible." They followed the GPS prompt and pulled off the road. Chase grabbed her shoulder as she reached for the door. "One more thing."
"What?"
"If he engages you in a fight, you have to give into your wolf. Completely." Chase gripped her shoulder tighter, fingers indenting her skin through the cotton of her T-shirt. "Markko has been shifting since he was thirteen years old. It's second nature to him. If you try to maintain your human mind, if you try to override the wolf's instincts with your reason, you're dead before you've begun."
Beth swallowed hard against the doubt that beat against her mind.
"If you fight it, you're dead." Chase shook her until she raised her eyes. "He's absolutely lethal. He'll wield his wolf with all the skill he's acquired over the years. Don't kid yourself---he's been killing for as long as he's been shifting."
"What chance do I have against that?" She snapped her eyes to his face, impotent rage burning away the despair.
"Close your eyes." When she didn't immediately comply, Chase shook her again and growled, "Now."
Beth let her eyelids slide close, her breath seizing in her chest.
"Remember how your friend died?" Chase's voice dropped an octave and slid over her like freezing water. "Remember how she bled to death in your arms, her throat torn out? Jaws slid through the sensitive flesh of her neck like a knife through butter, tearing her life away."
Agony, hot and suffocating, ripped through her, piercing her heart.
"That'll be a kindness compared to what will happen to Braden."
Beth choked, bile rising against the back of her throat. Chase's grip tightened on her shoulder.
"They've bound him. Beaten him. Even now, every heartbeat, every breath, is agonizing. And they're laughing. Every wheezing breath is an amusement. Every grunt that brings up blood is entertaining. They're having fun."
Agony gave way to disgust and anger burned away the nausea.
"And if you don't allow yourself to react instead of think? If you don't allow instinct, rather than reason, to dictate your actions? Markko will keep you alive, just long enough to watch Braden pull himself apart. As the sun sets, he'll fight the shift, but the moment the moon rises, he'll lose control. His shoulders and hips will go first, popping as his limbs disjoint as the shift pulls against the bonds. I've seen this...if he's lucky a rib will snap and puncture his lungs, maybe his heart. Either way, he'll die a long, agonizing death and the last thing you'll hear is his screaming. You'll wish they'd been kind enough to rip his throat out."
Beth shoved Chase away from her, slamming back against the door of the car. A low, deep growl resonated in the space between them. The angry tempest she was trying so hard to contain surged, burning away the last of her doubt and attempting to drown her rational thought. Certain she was about to lose her control, Beth fumbled with the door, threw it open and sucked in fresh air, willing her rage to settle and simmer for later. When her vision slid back into focus and her heart stopped beating in her ears, Beth looked up at Chase, who regarded her with a stony expression.
"If it comes to that, you let that storm inside you go." Chase put the keys underneath the front seat of the car and stalked into the forest to shift. "It'll be the only thing that saves you. And him."
The sun dropped behind the trees, casting shadows like teeth across their path. They'd been following scent trails most of the day. Every single one of them died out---lead into streams, or back to the highway or in one case, within a half a mile of the Edwards residence. Beth wasn't sure how many miles they'd run, pausing only to sniff and determine if the trail was good or if they should find another one. As the shadows lengthened, menacing reminders of the deadline they faced, Chase grew more and more irritated and Beth more and more worried.
She put her nose to the ground and inhaled Markko's scent. It flooded her senses, a foul aroma that left her feeling as though the inside of her snout had been covered in an oily residue that clung and tasted of decay and rotten meat. It was fainter here, along a deer path half obscured by brush, but it still made her stomach turn. Beth turned, looking for Chase when something else slid over her snout, completely at odds with the scent Markko left behind. A faint trace of mint, a hint of spring water and the spicy scent she only ever associated with one person engulfed her senses. Plunging into the underbrush Beth followed the trail. When it disappeared off to the right, she turned and chuffed at Chase.
Chase's head snapped up and he trotted to her side, sniffing the patch of grass she indicated. He leaped forward, nose pressed to the earth, following the scent.
It took nearly thirty minutes, and twice they'd had to double back and pick up the scent again, but with every new step Braden's scent grew stronger. Twice now they'd found droplets of blood. Adrenaline thrummed through her.
We're getting close.
Chase froze midstride, ears rotating and angling in a several directions. He turned to her and tossed his head to the right. It was time.
From here, I'm on my own.
Beth put her nose to the ground and took a long, deep breath, imprinting the trail on her senses.
Two voices filtered through the woods two or three hundred yards ahead of her. Both were speaking what sounded like Russian. She closed in as quickly as she dared and peered ahead, searching for an area of brush she could see through. Sliding along on her belly, trying to be as silent as possible, she scooted forward with the voices loud in her ears and Braden's scent coating her nose.
There he is.
Not twenty yards away she saw him lying on his side, his hands tied behind him and his feet tied to his hands. She couldn't tell if he was conscious, but his breathing came in short, shallow pants. He was shirtless, his chest and sides littered with bruises. It was a miracle he wasn't dead due to exposure.
He probably would be, if it weren't for his wolf.
She didn't take the time to wonder that she'd finally found something positive about the wolf. It had been happening all day. For now, she pushed it to the back of her mind and slid forward. Markko and Alek weren't paying attention; maybe she could get closer to Braden.
Fifteen yards.
Ten yards.
The leaves around her rustled against her coat and the talking abruptly ceased.
"Lizzy?" Marko whirled, his eyes scanning the area where she crouched. "Don't be rude. Join us."
Stall for time.
Chase had asked her to stall as long as possible, but the sun was fading quickly, the sky already losing its blue hue as darkness leeched away the light. If she stalled too long, the moon would rise. How long could she afford to wait?
"Not there? Let's find out?" Markko grabbed the back of Braden's arms and wrestled him to a kneeling position. "Give me your knife, Alek."
Alek pulled a knife from his back pocket. Markko caught it out of the air and released the blade.
"I think she's here." He spoke as he knelt behind Braden. "How many fingers do you think I'll have to sever before she shows herself?"
Braden groaned through clenched teeth as the knife bit into his index finger. Beth didn't hesitate; she surged out of the brush, head low, hackles raised and teeth bared.
"I thought so." Alek smiled. "Those protective instincts of yours...so predictable. I should probably take this finger as punishment for making me wait, what do you think?" He pressed the blade further into Braden's finger, a bright trickle of blood running over the knife and winding around to the back of Braden's hand.
Beth growled and snapped her teeth together.
"No?" Markko grinned maliciously. "Perhaps if you beg. Go ahead, shift back to human. Beg me not to hurt him the way you begged me not to hurt your Rachel."
She'd expected this, even before Chase had warned her, but it didn't make it any easier. The thought of having to face this man naked and defenseless left her trembling.
"I'm waiting," he barked.
Don't think. Just act.
She focused and shifted back into human form, faster than ever in her desperation, and rose to stand on two legs. She kept her hands clenched at her sides and straightened her spine. Modesty was something she couldn't afford, but her pride she could keep.
"Difficult, isn't it?" Markko asked, indicating the fine tremors that passed through her muscles. "I don't think you've been shifting on your own very long, have you, Lizzy? Still, you managed to track me down. I wonder---did you do it alone?" He asked, twirling the knife in his hand. "I doubt it. Go check the woods," he ordered over his shoulder.
Alek shifted and obeyed.
"Now. I believe you were going to beg..." His stare raked over her, his eyes devouring the planes of her legs and the curves of her breasts. His tongue slid over his teeth.
Beth braced herself, tilted her chin and glared. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her uncomfortable. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Braden's eyes shift, his gaze connecting with her own. The terror, pain and worry were plain on his face even as he tugged relentlessly at the bonds that held him.
"That defiance. It intrigued me that first night, in the bar. It's why I chose you. That stubborn tilt of your chin, the way you glared at me, even when I pressed against you, imprinted your scent on my memory. You remained defiant. The perfect challenge for a special hunt." Markko's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. "I never imagined you'd prove so exceptional, or so capable. The waste is almost shameful." He stalked forward. "Under different circumstances, I'd have kept you. You'd have whelped excellent stock."
Beth stepped back as he reached out to stroke fingers down the front of her chest.
"But you've gone and spread your legs for Edwards, and that I won't tolerate."
Chase leaped from the bushes behind Braden.
Markko cursed and threw himself into the shift, absorbing Chase's impact head-on. Beth skirted the raging wolves and tried to block out the sounds of the fight, instead focusing on getting Braden loose. She collapsed to her knees beside him and tore the duct tape from his mouth before attacking the knots at his wrists with shaky fingers.
"You shouldn't be here," he rasped.
"Shut up. Just let me get these undone."
Braden rolled away from her. "They're too tight. Get his knife. He dropped it when he shifted. Hurry."
Beth ran to the shredded pile of clothing, shaking them out for the knife, hyperaware of the fact that she couldn't see much in the fading light and what that meant for Braden.
It's not here.
She searched the surrounding forest floor frantically, every second that passed driving her panic higher.
"Come on, come on," she chanted. Something dug into her palm, cutting a line from thumb to pinky. "Thank God." Heedless of the way the blade bit further into her skin, she grabbed it and slid to her knees next to Braden, her limbs beginning to tremble and shake.
The moon was rising.
Fighting to hold her hands steady, she slipped the knife between the ropes that held his wrists and sawed as fast as she could.
"Hurry, hurry," Braden coaxed, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out over his skin.
A ripple ran the length of her spine, seizing her muscles. Her grip on the knife slipped and she accidentally cut into the flesh of Braden's wrists. She forced herself to concentrate and regripped the handle, plunging the knife back and forth.
A howl cut the air at the same time the ropes snapped apart. Chase burst into her peripheral vision, a wolf at his back and one at his throat. Alek had entered the fight.
Chase rolled away from the snapping jaws at his throat and wrestled off the wolf at his back. Before he could regroup, Alek lunged, broadsiding him and propelling him away from Markko who turned toward Beth.
"Change, Beth." Braden pried the knife from her hands and bent to saw through the ropes around his ankles. "Now!" He commanded.
Markko prowled forward, his eyes, two burning gray orbs, piercing her. He pulled his lips back from his teeth and snarled.
Even in human form, every instinct told Beth to drop her head, protect her neck and back away. She stood her ground. She was the only thing between him and Braden. Markko didn't hesitate---he lunged, jaws wide, aiming for her neck.
A violent shudder raced through her, pulling at her muscles as the wolf fought free. She fell into the spasm---didn't think, didn't breathe---and allowed the wolf total control. She shifted in the heartbeat it took Markko to slam into her, rolling them across the ground.
Beth came up from the roll on all fours, completely transformed, the wolf at the forefront of her mind. She matched Markko's steps as he circled her, the two of them moving in a semicircle around each other.
Markko plowed into her, driving her back. The air rushed out of her lungs and she braced for the jaws she expected to close around her throat. Nothing happened. She pushed herself to her feet and turned, watching Braden lose his battle against the pull of the moon and shift, his feet still bound together. He managed the change, though his hindquarters torqued obscenely halfway through, ripping a cry from his throat. Completely transformed, he tried to kick his way out of the ropes tangled around his legs.
Markko charged him.
No!
Beth tucked her fear behind the wall of instinctual rage that blanketed her mind.
Teeth bared, she leaped for Markko's back, wrenching his head enough to throw off his aim. His jaws sank into Braden's shoulder, narrowly missing his vulnerable throat. Locking her jaws around Markko's ear, she jerked her head, shredding the soft tissue in her teeth. Markko howled and reared in pain, throwing her off. She regained her feet immediately and spat the lump of bloody flesh on the ground.
Markko turned the brunt of his rage on her and barreled into her, snapping at her face and ducking his head, trying to get his jaws beneath her head and around her neck. He caught her along the top of her shoulder; his teeth pulled through flesh, her coat providing little protection. Her shoulder throbbed and blood matted her fur as she backed away, keeping her body between Markko and Braden, trying to buy him enough time to free himself.
Markko charged again, breaking to the right and throwing the force of his bulk into her shoulder, driving her to the ground. The momentum forced her to her back, exposing her neck and belly to Markko's jaws. He sank his teeth into her fur, cutting into the muscles around her neck.
Beth thrashed and kicked, trying to dislodge him or wiggle away. He growled into her shoulder and shook his head violently, grinding the flesh between his teeth. He spread his back legs, bracing his weight over her and tried to reposition his jaws.
Beth struggled under him, if he got a wider grip, he'd crush her windpipe. Panicked, she pulled up her hind legs and kicked into the exposed flesh of his belly, raking the length of him with her claws. He grunted, but tightened his grip on her neck.
Desperate, she tried again and this time caught him lower. Digging in, Beth kicked out as hard as she could, her claws digging into his stomach and slipping down. He jerked against the pain and her left paw slipped, claws catching his balls. He howled in agony, opening his jaws wide enough for her to slip his grasp.
She rolled and pushed herself to her feet, but collapsed again under the pain that seared her shoulder. Shifting her weight to her left side, she tried again, barely managing to stay upright. She knew she couldn't take another charge.
Markko dug his back legs into the earth and sprung forward, his jaws closing around her throat like a vise. Beth kicked and writhed, fighting to break free. His growl vibrated against her throat as she tried to pull air into her lungs. Her vision blurred and her lungs burned.
Something slammed into them, wrenching Markko away.
Beth blinked and rolled to her stomach, panting for air. Braden pinned Markko beneath his bulk, his jaws firmly fastened around his throat.
Beth watched with a strange detachment as Markko's body went limp, his final grunts of pain muffled by the earth. After an eternity, Braden shook his head, tearing out Markko's throat as his body jerked back and forth lifelessly.
It's over.
Braden released him and raised his head, his eyes seeking her, his snout smeared with blood.
Worn-out, Beth looked around, dully acknowledging the sudden silence. Chase stood ten yards away, blood matting his fur and dirt streaking his snout. Alek was nowhere to be seen.
Braden brushed against her and whined inquisitively.
Beth tried to push herself up, but even Braden's helpful nudge couldn't keep her on her feet. She collapsed, the adrenaline abandoning her, leaving her aching and exhausted on the forest floor. Braden's huge head dropped into her line of sight, his warm brown eyes concerned. She pushed her nose across his jaw and licked at his face, then dropped her head to the ground and closed her eyes, doing her best to convey that she just needed to rest.
He must have understood because he settled down beside her and rested his head across her shoulders. The warmth of him leeched away the last of her energy and Beth let herself drift to sleep.
\*\*\*
Beth woke snuggled in Braden's bed, his warm limbs entangled with hers. She sighed and stretched, mindful of the stiffness left in her body and the stitches in her shoulder.
They'd waited until dawn, then trekked back to Chase's car and driven home. By the time they got there, Mike had been waiting for them, medical bag in tow. He'd patched them up, pumped them full of painkillers and sedatives, and sent them to bed. The moment her head had touched the pillow, Beth had dropped off.
"What time is it?" Braden asked, his voice thick with sleep.
"It doesn't matter." Beth relaxed into his embrace. "Just rest."
"I'm resting." His breath tickled the back of her neck and a possessive hand splayed across her stomach. "Be glad Mike drugged me. I'm pissed as hell at you and Chase. He shouldn't have let you anywhere near those woods."
"Be grateful he did. You'd be dead otherwise."
"My brothers and father could have handled it." He sighed and the hand stroking her skin stilled. "The last thing I wanted was to see you walk into that clearing." His arms tightened around her. "But you did anyway---walked right in naked, like some fierce Amazonian warrior. You were beautiful."
"I was terrified." Beth smiled as Braden's hand slid up to cup a breast.
"It was the bravest thing I've ever seen. I don't ever want to be that terrified again."
"No more naked confrontations, I promise." She'd never felt so vulnerable or frightened in her life.
"Well, some naked confrontations might be alright." His fingers tweaked a nipple, and then trailed south, edging around the lace of her underwear.
Beth gripped his wrist and pulled his arm around her waist. "Don't start something you can't finish."
"I can finish it."
"Not today, you can't. Mike said you needed to rest. Give your body chance to heal."
He sighed against her and pushed a leg between hers, pulling her closer to him. "Fine. There will be time later." His voice dropped, heavy and thick, as sleep pulled him back under.
\*\*\*
The smell of a loaded baked potato and a grilled steak enticed him awake. He rolled to his side, arm instinctively searching for Beth. Cold sheets beneath his palm coaxed him to actually open his eyes.
"Hi," Beth said as she set a dinner tray down on the side of the dresser. "How are you feeling?"
"What are you doing out of bed?" He pushed himself up against the headboard, suppressing a wince and running a critical eye over her. Bandages peeked out of the collar of her shirt and there was a paleness to her cheeks that he didn't like. But the drawn, haunted look she'd worn since arriving at his parents' house was receding.
"I'm not the one who's slept away the last thirty-six hours," she said, leaning over to prop him up with a pillow. "Are you hungry?"
"Always." He gripped her wrist and pulled her off balance until she sprawled across his lap.
"One-track mind." She shook her head but brushed her lips against his, eyes dancing with laughter. "Your mom sent up dinner, you should eat. Then you can take the pills Mike left you."
"I'll take the food." He released her arm so she could rise. "But you can keep the pills."
"I don't think so." She placed the tray on his lap and sat next to him on the edge of the bed. "You've got one more dose of painkillers and muscle relaxants to take. It's that or an additional couple of days of bed rest."
"I'll take door number two," he said, threading his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck and pulling her closer. "Definitely door number two," he breathed against her cheek, wondering if he'd ever get tired of the scent of her.
She wrapped her fingers around his elbow and pressed her cheek against the skin of his forearm. The way her eyes fluttered shut as she took a deep breath was one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen her do. "Bed rest is a solitary activity," she murmured, opening her eyes and pinning him in place. "But if you're sure..." she said, pulling away with a grin.
"We'll negotiate over dinner." He picked up his fork and dug into his potato. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm alright. A little sore, nothing a few stitches and a bottle of ibuprofen didn't fix."
"As I recall, what you refer to as a few stitches was actually more like three dozen." He fingered the collar of her shirt, gently tracing his fingers over the heavy bandaging that remained.
She caught his fingers and pulled them away. "I'm alright. Mike said the stitches were really just there to speed along the healing process and to keep the scarring to a minimum." She glanced away and pulled her hair over her shoulder until it hid most of the bandaging.
"In time there probably won't be a mark, at all. We heal fast, remember?"
"Yeah." She stole a sip of his iced tea. "Chase is okay, by the way."
"A few bumps and bruises, as I recall. Did he and Dad find Alek?"
"No," she said on a hard sigh. "I know they looked for him when they went back to take care of Markko's body, but they didn't find anything."
"Don't worry about him, Beth. He's probably long gone by now and he's got no reason to come back. Everything else okay?"
"Mostly." She shrugged. "Lucy's barely speaking to me. Or Chase, for that matter. She's angry we went alone."
"That makes two of us, then." He let a smile touch his lips at her expression. "Don't worry about Lucy, she's quick to temper but she can't hold a grudge to save her life."
"And you?"
"Well, I don't know. I guess we'll have to negotiate..."
An hour later, freshly showered and stuffed from dinner, Braden lay stretched out on the bed with Beth curled against his side. "I still can't believe you got me take those damn pills."
He felt the curve of her lips against his shoulder. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yeah, you're here." He rolled to his side and settled her against him, his fingers trailing down her side.
"Things will be easier now that Markko is out of the picture," he said around a jaw-popping yawn. "We can stay out here for a couple of weeks, or go back to Portland if you'd rather. We can always drive out here for the full moons and spend a few days with everyone. We've got time to make a decision, decide where we go from here. There's so much I can show you, so much to enjoy..." His body relaxed behind her. "I love you," he whispered, sleep overtaking him in the next instant.
Beth squeezed the hand laced around hers. So easy. So simple. Why did it feel anything but?
She supposed she could put everything behind her now---Markko was out of the picture for good and she could glide into a future with Braden. His entire family would make it easy, accommodating her as though she'd always been there. A frown creased her forehead. That was the easy way out. She couldn't do it. Not again. She'd be running away from everything all over again. Worse, she'd be using Braden to do it.
Beth lay next to him for a long time, listening to the sounds of his breathing. When she was certain he was deeply asleep, she pulled away, dressed and grabbed her shoes, quietly shutting the bedroom door behind her. The house was silent, the rest of the family asleep in their rooms. She hated feeling like she was sneaking away in the middle of the night.
I'm not strong enough to do this if he tries to talk me out of it.
She grabbed her purse off the entry table and removed Braden's keys from the hook by the door. She'd send him an email, telling him where she'd left the car.
"Going somewhere?" Chase stood silently by the door, watching her every move.
Beth tightened her fist around the keys and reached for the door. Chase didn't move to stop her. "I need to go. There are things..." She swallowed around her nervousness at the thought. "So many things I need to take care of. That I need to face. I can't do that if I stay here."
Palming his wallet off the entry table, Chase pulled the door open for her. "I'll drive you to Portland."
Beth stopped, startled by his easy acceptance. "What?"
"Shh." Chase gently pulled her across the threshold. "Come on, if you want to do this without being noticed, we need to get going."
"I don't understand," Beth said, following Chase to his car.
"But I do." Chase ushered her into the car. He didn't speak again until he pulled onto the highway. "I understand what it feels like to run from your past. And what it feels like when that family makes it easy for you to pretend the ugliness never happened."
Beth considered him silently for a long time. Strange that he of all people knew her feelings as well, if not better, than she did. "I need to sort some things out. I need to see some people I've left behind. I wasn't fair to them," she said.
"Rachel's parents." It was a statement.
"I was hurting and I abandoned them. It wasn't fair."
"You couldn't stay and they couldn't help you," he agreed.
"No. But I don't have that excuse anymore. I need to see them and I need to see Rachel." She dreaded that part. She'd missed Rachel's funeral while she'd been in the hospital and she'd never been able to make herself drive out to the cemetery later.
"I need to know that I can handle things on my own. That I'm not just relying on Braden or your family to make things easy. I need to adjust to this life on my own, spend some time dealing with everything," Beth explained, more for her own benefit than for Chase's. "It would be too easy to let the warmth and support of your family do it for me."
"And you need to know that you'll come back to my brother because you love him, not because you've come to rely on him."
"Yes." Her fear of that discovery bled through her voice. She reached over and turned on the radio, turning the volume up and staring out the window, trying not to think about what she was leaving behind.
Chase stayed with her throughout the day. He helped her pack up some of her apartment, get her car from Braden's and load up the things she was taking with her. Now she stood beside her Jeep, keys in the ignition, unsure what to say or how to thank him.
"Are you sure I can't just take you to the airport?"
Beth shook her head. "I think the drive will do me good. It'll give me time to think about what I'm going to say when I get there."
"If you're sure?"
Beth nodded.
Chase pulled an envelope out of his back pocket. "This is for you," he said, pressing the package into her hand. "There's a guy in Boston named Lucas Stern. Call him when you get in---he's going to keep an eye out for you." Chase spoke over her when she opened her mouth to argue. "Call him. Or I tell Braden where you are. With Markko out of the picture, we expect Alek to go home, so we don't expect him to bother you. But eventually word is going to get back to Markko's father that he's dead."
The blood drained from her face. She hadn't thought much beyond the fact that Markko was gone.
Chase squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry too much. They weren't close, and in any case, his father will likely blame us. Still, I want someone checking on you. Lucas is very good. You won't even know he's there."
Beth sighed and clenched her hand around the envelope. "Fine." It was the least she could do.
"If anything bothers you, makes you nervous, call him. Or me. I'll come straight out."
"You don't have to do that."
He looked at her a strangely and shrugged. "I'd do the same for Lucy." He said it so casually, but it touched her deeply.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him on the cheek and pulled him into a hug. She couldn't help the watery laugh that bubbled out at the way he stiffened and awkwardly patted her on the back.
"Thank you," she said as she stepped back and climbed into her Jeep. "Anything else?"
"Yeah, there's another set of contact information in there. Veronica Lewis. She's a psychologist. She knows about us. I thought you might want to talk to her."
Moved by his thoughtfulness, Beth tucked the envelope into her purse.
"There's also some cash and a prepaid cell phone in there." Chase stepped back and shut the door for her. "When you're ready, let me know. I can come and pick you up at the airport or something. But, Beth? Don't take too long. Braden won't be patient more than a few months." He grimaced. "Hell, he'll be downright unbearable in the meantime."
Beth pulled her seat belt on and smiled. "I promise."
Labor Day --- Four Months Later
Beth took a deep breath as Chase angled the car off the highway and into the Edwardses' gravel driveway. She'd called Chase a week before to ask him if he thought his family would mind if she came out to see them over the holiday weekend. He'd booked her a plane ticket and promised to pick her up himself. She'd spoken with Braden a few times over email and had sent Lucy a few text messages, but aside from that, she'd been almost completely out of touch for the entire summer. She was hoping she would still be welcome.
"Do they know I'm coming?" she asked, nervous fingers drumming against her leg.
"Nah." Chase parked the car in the driveway and killed the engine. "Well, Anna probably does," he amended. "But she always seems to know these things."
Beth grabbed his arm before he could get out of the car. "You're sure it's okay that I'm here? I don't want to intrude."
"Trust me. It's fine." He came around the car and pulled the door open for her.
"Oh. My. God!" Lucy squealed and hurled herself out the front door, letting the screen door slam behind her. Chase met her halfway, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.
"Later, squirt." He set her down on the porch and stepped aside as Braden walked out.
He looked at Beth for a long time, arms crossed, expression set. She swallowed hard and shut the car door, trekking up the driveway to the porch. He met her at the bottom of the stairs.
"Hi." She tried to smile through her nervousness and failed. He didn't look at all happy to see her.
"You left." His jaw tightened around the words, and he dropped his arms and bunched his fingers into fists. "I told you I loved you and you ran away."
Beth stepped closer to him, determined to face this as she'd learned to face everything else in the last several months. Head-on, with an eye on her happiness. "I needed to get some things straightened out back home. And yeah, I was running away, you scared me. This---" she gestured to the house and the family behind him, "---this scared me. I needed some space to work things out for myself."
"And?"
"And things are better now. I'm better now." It hadn't been easy. She'd spent a lot of time talking to Victoria Lewis, learning how to deal with her past and discovering what she wanted from her future.
His hands came up, gripped her shoulders. "I can't watch you walk out of my life again, Beth. I won't. Just stay. Your apartment, mine, I don't care. Just say you'll stay with me." He cut himself off on a curse, as though ashamed of the plea. "I'll come to Boston, if that's what it takes."
That he meant it humbled her more than she could bear. "You gave me what I needed," she said, stroking her thumb across his cheek. "The time to find my own way, to figure out where I fit. In my family. With yours." She glanced at the porch where they waited. "You gave me that. I'll never be able to express how much that means to me."
He covered her hand with his own. "I flew to Boston twice, didn't make it out of the airport either time," he admitted, bringing her fingertips to his lips. "My patience was wearing thin. I wouldn't have made it to the holidays without coming after you. I'm all in, Beth. Say you'll stay. It's the last time I'll ask."
"I can't stay indefinitely." Beth smiled when his eyes narrowed and grip tightened. "I'm starting my master's in architecture in Portland next week."
He pulled her to him so fiercely the air rushed out of her lungs. His mouth slid over hers and stole what breath she had left. Finally, when Lucy began to cheer, he pulled back.
"Finally," he murmured against her lips.
He pulled her under his arm and coaxed her up the steps.
"I love you," she whispered against his neck as they followed the rest of the family into the house.
He paused in the doorway of his parents' home, his fingers linked with hers. "Say it again, Beth." He touched his forehead to hers, the warmth of his breath a caress on her face. "I need to hear you say it again."
"I love you." She watched his eyes dance in pleasure as she repeated it. "I love you."
"And you'll marry me?"
The answer bubbled up, warm and easy. "And I'll marry you."
"And it didn't even take a Taser," Lucy shouted from the living room.
"That was Chase!" he shot back, tangling his fingers the hair at her nape. "I'll never live that down, will I?"
"Not as long as I'm around," Beth answered, laughter coursing through her.
"So...fifty or sixty years?"
"At least," she confirmed.
"I think I can live with that," he said, tilting her chin. "Welcome home, Beth."
She was still smiling when his lips covered hers.
About the Author
Amanda was born and raised in Texas---and due to an unfortunate three-year stint in Michigan---doesn't plan to ever live anyplace where flip-flops and sweatshirts don't constitute winter attire. Often audacious and adventurous, she tends to find herself in a slew of dangerous (and hilarious!) predicaments---law school and fighting raccoons in Dumpsters---and thankfully has many friends ready to lend aid (while they laugh).
When not lawyering, writing or thinking about going to the gym, Amanda is often caught sampling local cupcake offerings and planning to someday co-open an evil bakery and sell dastardly desserts. She currently lives in Dallas, Texas, with one regular-size cat and one jumbo-size cat, and can be seen writing in public places frequented by hot guys (strictly for research purposes, of course!) with her friends and fellow writers Cupcake-Killer and Alter-Ego (names omitted to protect the not-so-innocent).
Where no great story goes untold.
The variety you want to read, the stories authors have always wanted to write.
With new releases every week, your next great read is just a download away!
Keep in touch with Carina Press:
Read our blog: www.CarinaPress.com/blog
Follow us on Twitter: www.twitter.com/CarinaPress
Become a fan on Facebook: www.facebook.com/CarinaPress
ISBN: 978-1-4268-9143-4
Copyright © 2011 by Amanda E. Alvarez
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

