Broken Blood (13 page)

“It’s Steppe’s. The one Victoria had,” Lexington explained, but I was only half-listening. I already had the first five numbers dialed as he added, “She said you should use it to call your friend, George.”

“No, I was going to wait. I don’t want to put him in danger,” I said, my finger hovering over the “send” button. 

In my mind, I heard,
No getting away from danger for that one.

I swiveled to Steppe, my cheeks heating. Anger and fear for my friend were a dual mixture in my veins. “What did you do?” I demanded.

He shrugged at me across the darkened interior, wide-eyed, and mumbled something around the tape covering his mouth.

His voice in my mind was a big fat blank.

I faced forward and fumbled with the phone, canceling the call to Wes and dialing George. As it rang, I prayed George was all right. That Wes hadn’t done anything crazy. And I thought of how they were all going to react when I showed up to Flaherty’s with public enemy number one on my arm.

They were all going to hit the fan when they saw him. Grandma, Mom, Wes, George. I wondered idly how many of them I’d have to fight off as they all rushed to kill him. I wondered how badly it would hurt me if I decided not to stop them.

––––––––

I
woke just in time to feel the sensation of being driven forward against my straining seat belt—and snapping back sharply when the brakes and momentum all caught up. Behind me, Gordon snapped out of his dozing.

“What’s going on?”  I asked, rubbing at the spot on my chest where the belt had cut in.

In front of me, Mr. Lexington was busy offering calming words to Astor, who wasn’t hearing any of it. He gripped his bright-green Slurpee cup in tight fingers, his eyes wide and everywhere at once.

“They’re coming, they’re coming, the British are coming,” Astor chanted. He sat bent forward leaning toward the window and his rounded side mirror. I moved to see what had his attention and, in the darkness, caught sight of a pair of bright white headlights close on our tail. Too close.

“Who is it?” I asked, the last traces of sleep evaporating as I remembered the large black wolf as he’d stood over me with his jaw open.

“I don’t know,” Mr. Lexington said, his eyes darting from the curvy state route we were following to the rearview and back. “But they’ve managed to move in between us and your Werewolf friend. Whoever it is has been honking and riding our tail. I even exited the interstate in favor of back roads, but I can’t shake them.” He sounded grim as he darted glances into his rearview before returning his attention to the road ahead. The van lurched forward quickly and then continued until our speed leveled out again. 

I checked the road ahead, but it was all clear. “Did you just brake check him?” I asked.

His eyes flicked over my face in the rearview and I shook my head. “Not the best idea. You should let Derek handle it.”

“He’s not doing anything,” Mr. Lexington said in a strained voice. “They’ve dropped back. It’s like they’re letting whoever this is take a go at us.”

I was thrown left as we took a sharp curve slightly too fast. Up ahead, the road straightened. The moment we were out of the shoulderless loop, the headlights swerved out as the car pulled into the lane next to us.

It accelerated until its passenger window was level with my view from Mr. Lexington’s. Without the blinding glare of the headlights obscuring my view, the make and model of the car became visible and my breath caught.

“Stop the car!” I didn’t wait for compliance before I unbuckled my seat belt and scooted for the sliding door. “Stop the car now,” I repeated.

“What?” Mr. Lexington shot me a confused look and another wary one at the car mirroring us, but I felt him slowing.

“Hurry up,” I said, breathless, heart pounding. My fingertips tingled, my toes went numb. The van couldn’t stop fast enough.

Vaguely, I felt Steppe’s mental probing—he was just as mystified as Lexington about the newcomer. But I wasn’t giving anything up. Mostly because my thoughts had become paralyzed with the urgency to close the distance.

“Do you know who it is?” Mr. Lexington asked.

“They’re coming, they’re coming, the British are coming,” Astor sang again.

Mr. Lexington navigated to the shoulder. I laughed out loud as our tires hit gravel, knowing full well I probably looked and sounded like a lunatic right now.

“Yes,” I said, throwing the sliding door open even as we continued to roll. I jumped out at the same time the tires finally came to a stop and tore into a run.

The other car had already come to a stop in front of us, herding us onto the shoulder so that we stayed tucked behind it. An unnecessary precaution. I spotted the logo and lettering that I’d already recognized but read it anyway: Aston Martin. Volante.

The door opened and a head appeared, hair ruffling as the wind caught it, then a neck, shoulders, torso—until finally, he stood erect. I’d forgotten how tall he was. I stopped and stared; it was like seeing for the first time. He looked worried, as usual, and almost untouchably handsome; his arms were empty only a second before I careened into his broad chest and buried my nose in the folds of his leather jacket.

My hands clutched fistfuls of clothing and whatever parts of him I could grab onto. “Wes,” I said on an exhale that released every lonely, terrifying moment I’d endured for eight weeks. When I inhaled the scent of him—leather, soap, and wild animal—it brought security and safety and more love than I’d ever thought possible stacked inside a single scent.

He started to pull back. I held tight in protest, but he only pulled my face to his in a warm kiss. His lips were smooth and lingering on mine and my knees buckled underneath the overwhelming sensation of being held, being kissed by this wolf I’d loved for so long. Missed for so long. I clung tighter, locking my arms around his neck, hand to elbow, so that neither of us could escape. The kiss turned hungry, searching and crushing every square centimeter of mouth and lip and tongue and flesh it managed to find with eyes closed and bodies pressed. His hands ran over my shoulders, down my arms, and I knew he was just as desperate as I was for this moment.

Somewhere behind me, car doors clicked open and slammed shut. Voices hummed with muted questions while others mumbled explanations around us. Footsteps shuffled closer, gathering around us to wait. Ignoring them all, Wes and I stood locked in a tangle of clinging arms and searching fingertips, lips and torsos pressed tight.

I never, ever wanted it to stop.

Ugh, I’d almost forgotten what teenage hormones felt like.

The interruption and the wry flavor of the voice in my head drove a ripple of shock through me. My hands and mouth stilled and Wes jerked away, rounded eyes regarding me with wary concern.

“What was that?” he demanded.

“You ... how did you hear...?” My confusion was drowned out underneath the noise inside my head. Mental chuckling coupled with the most annoying and embarrassing clichés to ever grace a Life & Health classroom circled my brain, a tornado of words overlapping into nonsensical barbs.

I do hope someone’s talked to you about the birds and the bees. Being safe? Wearing a raincoat? Oh, wait—I see you haven’t taken it that far.
I felt him sifting through memories, turning them over one by one until he chuckled, adding,
Not for lack of trying, eh?

“Oh my God. Eww,” I said, stepping away to press my hands against the sides of my head. “Get out!”

“Tara?” Wes hovered, following me wherever I sidestepped. “Who is that? Who’s in there?” he demanded.

My hands dropped away and I stared up at him, momentarily dismissing Gordon’s mental baiting. No one behind us said a word but I knew they were there, just as confused. All at once, I realized the number of listening ears and watching eyes bearing witness to my secret as it unraveled.

“How do you know someone’s in my head?” I asked. “And how did you find me?”

Wes looked up at the sky and, for a moment, I was lost, but then I followed the direction of his gaze and realized what we were staring at. I looked back at him again, unsure whether to be relieved or more apprehensive. “It’s a full moon,” I said quietly.

“It is.” He stepped closer, his hand cupping my cheek. I leaned into it, relishing the way his calloused palm scraped lightly over my skin. “I heard your thoughts, searched for some clue as to scenery,” he explained. “When I realized it was a rest stop along the interstate, I only needed to hone in on which direction.” His gaze roamed my face, drinking me in as I hung on his breathy words.

“And how did you figure it out?”

“Once I found you, there was no way I was losing you again. Your thoughts have always been so clear, so loud for me.” My cheek warmed where he touched and I leaned in, forgetting all over again the conflict or danger or anything that wasn’t his mouth or arms on my body.

I heard Gordon’s thought as it ran like a whisper through my head:
Ugh. Is this necessary? You probably should’ve just killed me.

“Who is it, Tara?” Wes asked again, halting my advances and holding me away. My kiss dried up and my mouth open and closed.

I met his eyes, cringing as I answered on a defeated sigh, “Gordon Steppe. We’re bonded.”

The collective gasp seemed to suck all of the remaining joy from the reunion. 

“Did you just say Gordon freaking Steppe is in your head?” Cambria shrieked loud enough to echo in the empty night air.

“That son of a ...” Derek muttered.

Logan said something quietly to Victoria, but she simply shook her head without a word. Everyone turned back to me. When I didn’t offer anything else, they all rounded on Astor. He’d gotten out of the van and was sipping loudly on his empty Slurpee cup where he stood next to Mr. Lexington.

“Someone needs to start talking,” Derek said through closed teeth. He glared at Mr. Lexington. “You,” he said.

Mr. Lexington hesitated, but I didn’t give him a chance to talk. There was still one more bomb to deliver. Instead, I said, “And because of that, I couldn’t leave him behind.” The group fell silent. At the end of the gravel driveway we were parked in front of, a porch light came on. A dog began to bark. In the quiet of their shock, I said, “He’s in the van.”

Wes narrowed his eyes. His hand on mine tightened. I could feel his gaze searching, poking through my thoughts, probably, in his impatience for an explanation. Nothing I could do would stop him. I looked back at him, my expression open and honest. Whatever it was he wanted to know, he could have it.

“What the actual hell,” Cambria said, her chunky black boot grinding into the pebbled asphalt.

Astor made a noise and I thought he was maybe scared of Cambria rather than the situation. Derek offered a quiet curse. Logan agreed. The Lexingtons were the only quiet ones in the bunch.

I didn’t look at a single one of them. Instead, I held the gaze of the boy I loved. This was the part where he always went a little crazy with worry and the need to control and fix it all. And when he realized he couldn’t, then the anger would be next. Not at me, at the situation, but still. Right now, I was the situation. And I knew him well enough to understand he only used it to shield himself from the fear of losing his loved ones.

I braced myself for all of that, but it never came.

Wes never made a sound as he regarded me, his head cocked sideways. I realized too late he’d probably just heard every one of my mental predictions. Which wasn’t going to improve his reaction. But his hand never left mine. His jaw twitched once and warm breath escaped his nose into the cold air in a small puff. Then he relaxed and pulled me to his chest, smoothing my hair.

“It’s okay,” he said finally.

Calmly.

Gently.

Full of confidence, empty of worry or anxiety.

And I wondered who the heck this Wes was and what he’d done with mine.

The dog’s barking grew louder. Another light came on at the farmhouse down the lane.

“We need to get moving,” Mr. Lexington said.

Always the herder.

Wes pulled back and nodded at him. “You’re helping us,” Wes said. It wasn’t a question. If anything, it was a warning.

Mr. Lexington lifted his chin. “I’m committed to protecting my daughter, no matter what,” he said.

Wes looked at Victoria and his hand tightened in mine. “He hurt you,” he said to her.

She lifted her chin, much like her dad had done. “He hurt you too,” she said, managing to sound compassionate and haughty at the same time. She was recovering. I might’ve smiled if her words hadn’t frozen Wes.

“Steppe is in the van?” Derek echoed, finally catching up. “That van?” he asked, pointing. He didn’t wait for my answer before striding to the van and yanking the door open.

My throat closed. I opened my mouth to call out and stop him but no sound came. I wasn’t sure whether I was scared he would hurt Steppe—or scared he wouldn’t.

“Tara’s bonded to him, Derek,” Wes warned, reading my thoughts.

Derek disappeared inside the van. The barking, a background annoyance until now, suddenly reached full volume as the dog escaped whatever restraint had been holding it and it raced toward us at the edge of the road. Even in the darkness, I could see it wasn’t a puppy.

I reached a hand out, caught between the threat of Derek and the threat of the dog, my words of warning becoming tongue-twisted in my mouth. But Cambria turned just as the dog leaped at her calf and slammed her fist into the mutt’s nose. It went down with a yelp and then turned away, whining as it retreated.

I stared at her.

She shrugged. “Despite what you people think, I am not a dog person,” she said.

Mr. Lexington rolled his eyes. “We need to go,” he said again, this time more urgently.

Derek reappeared from the depths of the van, dragging Steppe by the back of his collar. Steppe’s foot caught on something just inside the van door, so instead of following Derek out on his feet, he landed on his stomach with a grunt, half in, half out of the vehicle. Derek heaved and Steppe tumbled onto the pavement.