Blood Rights [Wicked River 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (5 page)

Sticky and exhausted, they slumped together, Koba holding his lover to his chest as he willed his heartbeat to slow and his senses to return. Brock’s arms slid beneath him, squeezing him tightly as he peppered little kisses down the side of Koba’s neck. “Everything is going to be okay,” Brock promised.

It was probably true, but Koba didn’t believe that it would be that simple. Trusts had been broken, and it would take time to reestablish them. Once Brock and Moira put away their pride and regained what they’d lost, there was still the little problem of finding where Koba fit into their relationship.

The best things in life were always the hardest to hold on to, but after one short meeting, Koba knew the three of them had a chance at something worth fighting for. “It’ll be okay,” he agreed. “We just have to be patient. Sometimes you have to tear everything down completely before you can start to rebuild.”
 

Waking up on the sofa with her neck bent in an awkward position was not exactly how Moira wanted to start her day. Throwing the blanket off, she sat up and placed her feet on the floor, moaning loudly as she rubbed at her neck and tried to stretch the knotted muscles in her back.

Her left hip ached where she’d been thrown to the ground the previous night, and the knuckles on her right hand were bruised from fighting. While she did possess the gift of supernatural healing, since she hadn’t been claimed by her mate—and therefore hadn’t come into her powers—it took twice the amount of time as it did for other paranormals.

Another short gasp burst through her lips when she pushed up from the cushions. Stifling another moan, she walked her fingers along the ribs on her left flank, asserting pressure to check for cracked or broken ribs. It hurt like hell, but she was pretty sure they were just bruised like her hand. Though it wasn’t totally rational, she blamed Brock for her injuries. If he’d stayed and claimed her instead of running off and shacking up with Koba, she would have healed by now.

It was much easier to blame him than to digest the fact that she’d gotten her ass handed to her. Brock and Koba had both pointed out that they’d saved her life, and while it rankled, she knew they were right. How was she supposed to govern and protect her people when she couldn’t even protect herself?

The sound of creaking bedsprings drew her attention, and she frowned as she followed the noise down the hall to the spare bedroom. The door was only slightly ajar, but she had no problem viewing the two naked men on the bed through the slat. Brock curled around Koba’s back, holding him possessively while he drooled against his shoulder.

The sight didn’t hurt nearly as much as she thought it would. In fact, a soft smile tugged at her lips, and a warm peace settled over her. Oh, Brock would die if he knew she’d caught him drooling. She couldn’t wait to tell him.

Koba’s brow furrowed, and he appeared restless and uneasy. His body rocked back and forth, his legs jerked occasionally, and quiet growls rolled up from his chest. Something haunted his dreams, and Moira didn’t think it was his wolf chasing bunnies.

“No,” he moaned. “Don’t. No. Stop!”

Acting on instinct without thinking through her actions, Moira pushed the door open and hurried inside. Settling on the edge of the bed, she pushed Koba’s hair back from his face and stroked his cheek. “Shh. Easy, Koba. It’s just a dream.”

Surprisingly, he settled at once, his body melting back into the mattress. When Moira started to remove her hand, however, Koba’s fingers wrapped around her wrist and held her in place as he nuzzled against her palm. “Feels nice,” he mumbled sleepily. “Don’t go.”

She shouldn’t have been there at all, though. “Go back to sleep.”

“You don’t have to go.” Brock cracked one eye open to look up at her. “Thank you, Mo.”

Not trusting herself to speak, Moira simply nodded, extracted her hand from Koba’s grip, and exited the room. Maybe coffee would help clear her head, because there had been just a split second where she’d considered taking Brock up on his offer. It wasn’t only stupid, it was reckless, and with monsters on the loose in Mission Landing, she couldn’t afford mistakes. Letting her heart override her mind was definitely a mistake.

Stepping into the kitchen, she paused near the stove, her heart beating just a little faster when she found the plate covered in tinfoil. Peeling back the aluminum, her eyes misted a little when she found two biscuits, holes cut out of the centers, and filled with gravy—just how she liked them.

Wiping roughly at her eyes, she sniffed once, pushed the plate to the side, and went about preparing coffee. So what if Brock remembered how she liked her breakfast? So what if he’d gone out of his way to prepare it for her? It didn’t mean anything. He was just trying to suck up to her so she wouldn’t make him sleep in the barn.

“Good morning.”

Squeezing her eyes closed, she fisted her hands on the counter and took a deep breath before turning to face Brock. “Good morning,” she replied tightly. Why was he smiling at her in that way that made her belly clench?

“Uh, we didn’t mean to intrude. Koba was worried about leaving you alone after the Walker attack last night.”

“What?” She’d missed most of what he’d said because she was too busy watching the way his mouth moved. From the moment she’d first laid eyes on him after arriving in Alabama, he’d had the power to hypnotize her by doing nothing more than walking into a room.

Prying her eyes always from his plump lips, she let her gaze travel down his corded neck, broad chest, and thick, well-defined arms. The simple, white tee stretched tight, highlighting every ripple of his muscles with even the barest of movements.

“The Walkers,” Brock repeated. “We—I mean, Koba—thought it would be dangerous for you to be here by yourself.”

“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, Brock.” Realizing how callous and possibly childish that sounded, Moira sighed and shook her head. “Thank you.”

“Look, Moira. I know you don’t want me here, but I’m not leaving until I do my job. The Elders sent us to take care of the Shadow Walkers, and that’s what we’re going to do. I’ll stay out of your way, but I’m going to need a little cooperation.”

“And I said I’d help. I just don’t want to be left out the loop. This is my pack, and I have to know what’s happening.”

“It’s my pack, too,” Brock snapped at her. “I care about them just as much as you do.”

The tenuous hold on her patience disintegrated, and words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “You left!” she shouted. “You don’t give a damn about this town, these people, or anything else!”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Brock yelled right back.

“But you could have come back.”

Brock stomped across the room, crowding Moira until her back was pressed up against the refrigerator. His hands landed on the appliance on either side of her, trapping her there. “Don’t go there, Mo. I came back, and I waited for you. It was your choice, so don’t try to turn this around on me.”

Cold, hard anger curled around her, and she shoved at Brock’s chest, sending him stumbling back a step. “Bullshit! I stayed here and waited for you. I didn’t know if you were hurt, dead, or shacked up with some two-bit hooker. If you wanted to go, fine! I’m not going to stand here and let you blame this on me, though!”

“There seems to be a lot of blame going around here,” Koba called from the entryway in his calm, mellow voice. “Maybe if you stopped shouting, you might actually be able to listen to each other.”

Moira shot him a scathing look before glancing back at Brock. “Is he always like this?”

Brock sighed and scrubbed at his face, though some of his bad mood seemed to be slipping away. “Yeah, pretty much. He’s right, though. We’re not getting anywhere like this.”

“Come with me.” Koba turned and left the kitchen. “I meant now,” he called when no one followed him.

Resigned to the idea that they were going to have the conversation whether she wanted to or not, Moira huffed, pushed past Brock, and marched into the living room with her head high and her shoulders squared.

“Relax, She-Ra.” Koba lounged in one of the armchairs and chuckled. “We’re just going to talk. I’m not sending you into battle.”

“Are you sure about that?” Flopping down on the sofa, Brock looked up at her sardonically. “Trying to get anything through that thick head would take an act of war.”

“You arrogant, egotistical, obnoxious—”

“Enough!” Sighing in obvious frustration, Koba pointed toward the recliner, indicating that Moira should sit. “I don’t want to be in the middle of this, but you two aren’t giving me much of a choice. So, we’re going to do things my way. Got it?”

“Yes,” Brock growled, while Moira nodded curtly.

“What I understood from the extremely loud discussion you were having in the kitchen is that you think Brock left and never came back until last night.” He pinned Moira with his dark-brown eyes, and she fought the urge to squirm under his scrutiny.

“Well, it’s the truth. That’s kind of why I think it.”

Koba dipped his head and turned to Brock. “You think she didn’t want to go with you. Am I the only one who sees a problem here?”

“I called. Her phone was disconnected. I sent letters and never received a single reply. I don’t know how my dad knew, but I couldn’t get within ten miles of Mission Landing for weeks. I finally managed to get in touch with Henry Carpenter about six weeks after I left. I waited for three days at a diner in the next county over.” Brock looked away from Koba and right into Moira’s eyes. “You never came. What was I supposed to think?”

“Brock.” Moira stopped, her breath catching in her chest. Maybe it was the way he’d looked at her, the pain in his eyes, but she believed him. “Henry Carpenter drowned out on the river not long after you left. I guess probably around the same time you talked to him.”

“I called.”

“I still have the same number. I never got a call.”

Brock frowned and sat forward on the cushions. “The letters?”

“Nope.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Koba smile and start to stand. “Stay,” she told him. “I want you to stay.” Whatever was happening, Koba was just as much a part of it as her and Brock. “You really came back?”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

“And you thought I’d forgotten you.” It didn’t suddenly make sense. There were still so many unanswered questions. She was starting to believe that someone had been very busy trying to keep them apart, though.

“When you didn’t show up at the diner, I came here. Rip met me at your front door.” He didn’t elaborate, but Moira didn’t need it spelled out for her.

“I’ve never been with Rip.” She dropped all of her guards, letting Brock see the truth in her eyes. “I haven’t been with anyone since you left.”

A flash of guilt washed over Brock’s face, and his eyes darted to the side toward Koba. “I…”

“No,” Moira said firmly. “Don’t you dare say it. Koba is your mate, and I won’t let you hurt him by feeling guilty about loving him. He doesn’t deserve that.” She meant every word of it.

Mercy, Koba was a beautiful man. She knew he probably wouldn’t appreciate the description, but it was more than just rugged handsomeness. Every time she looked at him, she had to resist the urge to pant and rub up against those lean, sculpted muscles.

While it hadn’t been pleasant to think that she’d been replaced, it had never been Koba’s fault. Now that a very unsettling truth was starting to unravel, even that little bit of animosity was bleeding away.

It also helped that each time they brushed against each other, or accidently met each other’s eyes, there was an instant attraction that she just couldn’t seem to shake. It was almost like the feelings she had for Brock, but less intense. She had no idea what it meant, but she was beginning to believe that there was a lot more to it that just basic, animal attraction.

It was almost like she’d known him for her entire life, but had recently forgotten him. Gods, that didn’t make a bit of sense, but it was the best way she knew to put it into words. If they were mates, she’d know it, though. Right? As it was, however, she constantly felt as though she was being pulled toward Koba, while another force was pushing her back.

“So, what do we do now?” Brock asked, interrupting her internal argument. Folding his hands in his lap, he slumped back on the sofa, looking totally defeated.

Moira didn’t have an answer for him, either. Maybe neither of them was to blame for what had happened, but it didn’t erase the fact that it
had
happened. She couldn’t just forget the last eight months of her life without him.

“Well, I have a suggestion,” Koba offered and grinned roguishly when Moira lifted both eyebrows in question. “I say we find out who wanted to keep Brock gone and why.”

* * * *

The first task on Brock’s list was to pay a little visit to Rip. The beta had been a thorn in his side for years, well before the fiasco that resulted in Brock’s departure. If someone had been trying to keep him and Moira apart, he had a gut feeling that Rip was in on it.

“We can’t just go beat down his door and demand answers,” Moira said with an air of exasperation.

“It’s not his door I want to beat down.” He’d been away from home for too long, lost too much time with his mate, and someone would pay for it. Rip was as good a place to start as any.

“Brock, we have to be smart about this.”

“She’s right,” Koba agreed, holding his hands up when Brock glared at him. “You know she’s right. No one goes to those lengths to keep you out of town and then just lets you waltz back onto pack lands without a reason. You said yourself that they always knew when you were here. I doubt that’s changed.”

Brock wanted to be pissed and beat the crap out of stuff. Why did his mates have to be so rational? “You think they knew I was back before last night.”

“I think it’s naïve to think that they didn’t.” Koba huffed and shoved both hands through his hair. “Whoever
they
are.”

“Rip is in on it.”