Betrayed: Days of the Rogue (17 page)

“Is something wrong?” As soon as
she spoke, she braced herself for a rebuttal. He didn’t give the
impression that he’d welcome questions of a personal sort.

“No.” He paused and glanced away as
if debating the wisdom of continuing. His lips compressed and then,
flicking a glance at her, he spoke. “You remind me of someone.
My…wife.”

“Oh.” Eve blinked. That wasn’t what
she’d been expecting. “Are you…um…separated?”

Something flared in his eyes, anger
perhaps, but then he seemed to rein it in. He swallowed hard as if
it were difficult to speak. “She’s dead.”

Eve was shocked. The woman must
have been very young. “I’m sorry to hear that. It must be very hard
for you.” Hesitantly, she reached out and placed her hand on his
arm in a gesture of comfort, expecting a sharp rebuff at any
moment.

He stiffened, staring at her hand
perhaps not quite believing she’d actually touched him. Then, as if
her gesture had released some sort of valve, the tension appeared
to ease out of him. “It is. Thanks.”

“I sort of know how you feel. I
lost a good friend a few years ago. I was in Europe at the time,
studying art.” Eve felt her eyes growing misty at the memory. “I
never got to say goodbye. Not a day goes by that I don’t think
about her.”

“Me, too.”

They exchanged a look and Eve felt
the tendrils of a connection growing with the man. He gave her a
ghost of smile.

“I’d better be on my way.” He cast
a glance at the shed.

Hmm…so Damien also had noticed how
Rafe didn’t want them to be alone. Eve scowled in annoyance. Rafe
had no right to act so…so…bossy! Damien was just a lonely man.

“If you ever want to talk…” She
left the invitation hanging.

Damien hesitated and then nodded
before heading on his way.

As he walked away Eve noted that,
though his clothes still hung loosely on his frame, he looked a bit
better than he had a week ago. Perhaps the regular meals and some
old fashioned manual labour were helping. Rafe kept him busy from
sunup to sundown every day. Right now his job was breaking up
boards from the old fence, cutting them into size for use in the
fireplace. She watched him work for a few minutes and then returned
to putting away her paints and brushes.

Guilt ate away at Damien all day
and into the night. He’d found yet another opportunity to talk to
Eve, to stand next to her and imagine that it was Beth beside him.
If he closed his eyes and just listened to her voice, the fantasy
seemed so…real. And today, when she’d blushed… The stain of pink
over her pale skin had nearly been his undoing.

He’d actually reached out to stroke
the curve of her cheek, to cup her face and… Closing his eyes, he
swallowed hard, not wanting to admit, even to himself, what he’d
have done next.

Eve was Fae, not Lycan. He’d
established contact with her; nothing else was needed. And thinking
she was Beth… It was a betrayal of his blood bond. His wolf might
reach out to her, mistakenly thinking she was their mate, but that
was no excuse. He was a bastard.

Standing up, he shoved the rough
wooden chair out of his way and paced angrily across the small
cabin Rafe had allowed him to stay in. What the hell was he doing
here, playing handyman, pretending he had a real life when filth
still covered the world? Had he forgotten his duty? His vow?

Dragging his hands through his
hair, he exhaled loudly. How much longer could he do this? He was
losing control, losing his focus. How long until…?

Pausing by the window, he braced
his hands on either side and stared outside; it was a full moon.
Maybe that was the problem. Too many days as a man and not enough
as a wolf. He gripped the wooden frame tightly, studying the pale
orb as dark clouds drifted across its face. Memories of another
night with a similar moon crept forward…

He’d stood just like this, arms
braced as he looked outside. Warm hands had touched his bare back
and he’d sighed, arching into the touch.

“Are you almost ready, Beth?” He
hadn’t turned around but asked the question over his shoulder.

She’d traced the breadth of his
shoulders while kissing his spine between his shoulder blades.
Desire had shot straight to his groin.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Her
breath had whispered over his skin and he’d shivered at the
sensation. “Tell me again what it will be like to shift?” Within a
week of meeting, they’d had sex and her latent werewolf genes had
been activated. Tonight was going to be her first shift.

He’d turned and encircled her with
his arms, looking down at her indulgently. Excitement and
apprehension and shown on her face. “You’ll love it. It’s
wonderful. Orgasmic.” Bending close, he’d nuzzled her neck and then
whispered in her ear. “I just hope you don’t scream like you do
when we’re in bed. It’ll make everyone else jealous.”

“Damien!” She’d pushed him away,
her face flushed but laughter had twinkled in her eye.

“Sorry.” He’d laughed and pulled
her close, cradling her tenderly in his arms. “I’ll take care of
you. Don’t worry. I’ll never let anything hurt you.” His heart had
been near bursting with love. His mate. His.

Bitterness now had him twisting his
features.

Yeah.

Right.

He’d done a hell of a job
protecting his mate. When she’d needed him the most, he hadn’t even
been there. Pushing away from the window, he stalked around the
cabin, restless and angry, kicking the chair out of his way before
turning to look outside again.

The moon goddess was calling to
him, beckoning him to revel in her rays. In ancient times all
inhibitions would have been lost, the animal within let loose.
Damien stepped outside and inhaled deeply, smelling the dampness in
the air, the rich scent of earth and pine that was carried on the
air.

His wolf stirred, demanding he
shift forms. He’d resisted the urge these past few days but the
beast was growing discontent.

Freedom. We need our freedom. To
exist as we were meant to be; as the gods made us. To hunt...

The need grew, becoming an
insistent demand. Perhaps...

Damien stepped off the porch and
raised his face to the sky. The air shimmered and he released the
tight rein he kept on beast inside. For just a while, he warned.
There was another Fae, a few counties over. He’d head that way.

Brandi and Reno occupied a booth
near the back of Clancy’s, a local roadhouse not far from Lycan
Link headquarters. Brandi was shredding a paper napkin, while lines
of strain bracketed Reno’s mouth. The latest news was taking its
toll.

“I was at the Affiliation Office
dropping off some papers when the news came in.” Brandi shook her
head regretfully.

“You’re sure there’s no mistake?”
Reno studied the room’s occupants with narrowed eyes. Somerset was
here and he wanted to ensure the man wasn’t nearby. Unfortunately,
right now he was lost in the throng.

“No. No mistake. Another Fae was
killed last night. Colleen, the Fae ambassador was very upset. She
wants to pull out, sever all ties with Lycan Link. And she’s
demanding all our records regarding her people be purged from the
system. Hiding is the only way they’ll be safe, she says.”

Reno turned his gaze towards his
mate. “You can hardly blame her. The Fae are undetectable from
humans. Someone has to be using their inside knowledge to locate
Faes and eliminate them.” He scanned the room again. “But purging
the records won’t do much good at this point. Whoever is behind
this probably made their own copy of the list long ago.”

“I know.” Brandi gave up shredding
the napkin. “And not only are the killings horrific but this is
jeopardizing the whole project. A lot of shifter species don’t even
want to associate with each other, let alone the Fae. And if the
Fae pull out—even with good reason—it will just compound the idea
that affiliation isn’t in the best interests of all species.”

Brad appeared weaving his way
through the crowds, a pitcher of beer in his hands. He slid into an
empty seat. “Sorry. Long line for drinks, and then Adrian Somerset
cornered me wanting to know why I was tiptoeing through his system
again. The security check story is starting to wear thin.”

“If you were searching his records
then you must have news.” Brandi forced herself not to lean forward
or look anxious. This was supposed to be a friendly after work get
together for drinks.

“There were two known rogues within
a fifty mile radius of the latest Fae killing, but police records
show no complaints from local residents about a wolf. With no
complaints lodged Somerset isn’t sending a team out.” Brad paused
and poured a mug of beer. “That makes the ninth death in the past
year. And in each instance, at least one known rogue was in the
area. In most cases, complaints of wolf activity had been lodged
within the previous forty-eight to seventy-two hours.”

“Any chance it was a mere
coincidence?” Brandi queried. “A random murder where the victim
just happened to be Fae and a rogue coincidentally happened to be
in the area?”

“Given the limited number of known
Empaths in the world, it’s too much of a coincidence to me.” Brad
pointed out.

“I know, just hoping,” Brandi
sighed. “So who were the rogues in the area?”

Brad hesitated before answering. “A
Jason Petrowski and Damien Masterson.”

Reno swore and clenched the glass
in his hand so tightly a faint cracking sound could be heard as it
gave way under his force.

Chapter 13

“Caro! What a surprise.” Eve
couldn’t believe her agent was standing on Rafe’s porch.

“Eve?” The wide smile that had been
on the woman’s face faded. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I
thought Rafe…” She peered over Eve’s shoulder trying to see
inside.

“You thought you’d stop by and ask
Rafe for directions again?” Eve raised a knowing brow. “What
happened? Did Ross move on?”

Caro sniffed. “Ross was a boy. What
I need is a real man.”

“And you decided Rafe was the one?”
She folded her arms and leaned against the door jamb.

“Well, you don’t seem to want him.”
The woman pushed past her, walking into the house as if she owned
it. “So, since I was passing by, I thought I’d stop in. I must
confess I’m rather shocked that you’re here. Just visiting or have
you two been doing the horizontal mambo?”

“Friends, Caro. Acquaintances.
That’s all.” Eve made no effort to hide her annoyance. Why Caro had
to keep poking her nose into her love life—or lack thereof—was
beyond her. And the fact that Eve wanted a love life with Rafe, and
didn’t have one, made it sting all the more.

Caro gave what she probably thought
was a conciliatory smile. “Now, don’t get in a snit. I have a new
job for you and thought I’d deliver the news personally.” She gave
a quick wink and an unrepentant grin. “And if I managed to catch a
glimpse of Rafe at the same time, all the better. After all, if you
don’t try, you’ll never know.” Making a slow turn, she surveyed the
room, her eyes lighting with interest. “My, he
is
a
passionate one, isn’t he?”

“Rafe?” Stone-faced Rafe was
passionate? She’d had some evidence of it during that one kiss, but
what was Caro seeing? “Why would you think that?”

“Just look at this place!” Caro
flourished her hand. “Black leather, red pillows, wooden beams for
a bit of bondage. There’s even a stone fireplace with a nice plush
rug in front of it; perfect for having sex on a rainy afternoon.
Oh…not your sort of thing, I suppose.” She tapped her finger on her
lips, a small moue forming.

Eve opened her mouth to protest but
then thought better of it. Anything she said could, and would, be
used against her. She cleared her throat and tried to change
topics. “You said you had a new job for me?”

“Hmm…?” Caro was staring out the
window having spotted the men working on repairing the shed’s roof.
“Eve, you didn’t tell me there was another one! Who
is
that
man?”

Moving to her side, Eve looked out.
Both Rafe and Damien were in plain sight; tight fitting t-shirts,
stained with sweat, showing them off to perfection. Muscles flexed
as they swung the hammers, nailing shingles into place. Rafe paused
and pulled his shirt up to wipe his face revealing a sculpted
stomach, while Damien stood and stretched showcasing his lean hips
and long legs. “That’s Damien. He’s a handyman Rafe hired to help
out around here.”

Caro purred her approval. “Damien?
He’s scrumptious. I’d love to run my hands over him.”

Eve frowned, feeling the need to
protect the man. “He’s very lonely. His wife died. Recently, I
think.”

“Oh.” Caro made a little pout.
“Well, perhaps I’ll wait a bit then. I don’t like being a
substitute.” She tossed her hair and strode across the room, her
heels clicking on the polished wood floor. Retrieving her
over-sized bag from the couch where she’d tossed it, she pulled out
a large envelope. “Read this.”

Soon both women became lost in
discussing this latest project, a series of book covers for a high
profile author. Eve felt her stomach quiver with excitement and
nerves. A contract like this would generate enough income that she
wouldn’t have to take just any job that came her way. She could
start to pick and choose, spend more time on her original
paintings…

“Caro, this is fantastic. Thank
you!” She pressed the pages to her chest unable to believe her
luck.

“I take it you accept?” Caro gave
her an indulgent look.

“Yes, yes and yes! Where do I
sign?”

“Well, before anything is final,
you have to come with me. The author wants to do a video conference
first, convey her vision of the covers to you, get your input. You
know the drill. Unfortunately, the back roads of Grassy Hills don’t
seem to have high speed internet yet.” Caro made a face.