Broken Blood (16 page)

I changed into an oversized T-shirt and pair of pajama pants I found. For a split second, as I brushed my teeth, I considered removing the pants but the thought of Wes slipping in beside me scared me more than it thrilled me. I just didn’t have the energy to be sexy tonight. And with Steppe in my head and my mother down the hall, I couldn’t if I wanted to. So I rinsed my mouth out and kept the pants on.

I slid in between the cool sheets and sighed, every muscle in my body going gloriously limp in the process. My eyes shut and I was pretty sure they wouldn’t open again even if I wanted them to. I breathed deeply in and out and felt my body relax another few inches.

Besides Wes, this bed was the best thing I’d pressed my body to in weeks.

Downstairs, a door slammed hard enough to shake the walls of my bedroom. Outside my window, someone shouted and below me, footsteps pounded, hurrying. Another door slammed.

I sat up, this time listening to the echo left behind by the door and the perpetual hum of voices as they rose and fell. My pulse raced. Had we already been found?

I waited, listening for another clue to help gauge the danger. More shouting, this time from inside the house. Raised voices all yelling something different, overlapping, drowning each other out.

In my head, the bond, which I’d managed to dial back to an annoying whisper, sprang to full volume.
This is not what you promised me when you kept me out of that cage, my dear.
And when I didn’t answer, a second later Steppe’s voice came again.
You may want to have a look at what your Dirty Blooded friend is up to. Not sure his agenda quite lines up with yours.

Underneath the sarcastic calmness he exuded, there was the hint of fear. I threw the covers back and hurried out of the room and down the stairs.

At the bottom, I almost ran into Victoria. She stood with her back to me, her attention focused on the living room.

“What’s going on?” I asked, breathless from the adrenaline.

Victoria mumbled something I didn’t catch and gestured to the crowd gathered in the living room. Cambria and Mr. Lexington stood near the back of the group but they, too, were spectators. In front of them, I caught sight of Grandma and Wes ducking in and out of the center of things but I couldn’t see enough to understand what was happening.

“He is not happy about Steppe,” Victoria said and I realized she was repeating her answer from before.

“Who?” I pressed, but she only pointed toward the others.

Voices rose and the crowd was shoved backward. Cambria stumbled and almost fell but Mr. Lexington grabbed her elbow to steady her as they both backed away from the surge. I ran into it, Gordon’s voice in my mind growing louder, more adamant that I step in.

“Tara, wait,” Cambria warned, but I ignored her and shouldered my way through. I slipped past Professor Flaherty and then Grandma and Derek and out the other side—right between a cowering Gordon Steppe and a growling Werewolf.

“Tara, stop,” Wes called in a much quieter voice. I knew that tone; it meant whatever was happening was not good.

I looked from Steppe, who already had a scratch across his forearm and cheek, to the wolf facing him. I blinked at it as familiarity washed over me. Even still, it had been so long that it took me a moment to place him.

“George?” I asked, tilting my head as I took in the slightly off-center ears and the familiar streaks of blond in his fur.

His recognition and relief were both short-lived as his temper took over. Now I understood Wes and Grandma and the rest when they’d cautioned me to stay away. George was wholly committed to his vengeance and there wasn’t anything more dangerous than a Werewolf consumed with rage.

“Get out of my way,” George growled as he pushed past me to stand over Steppe.

“Stop, you can’t hurt him,” I said, reaching for George to pull him back.

But George jerked away and snapped his teeth at Steppe. “Don’t try to talk me out of it like the others,” George said. “Screw mercy and forgiveness and strategy or whatever you’re going to say. He deserves this. We deserve justice.”

Before I could argue, he lunged at Steppe.

“No!” I yelled. I managed, only barely, to yank on Steppe’s shoulder and pull him away in time for us both to get clear. Another hand darted in and shoved Steppe sideways. This time, George’s teeth narrowly missed Steppe’s midsection. He got a mouthful of carpet instead.

Someone yelled, but George ignored it and straightened; I could already see his intention to attack again. Panic rose at the thought of Steppe being killed. The pain it would cause me—but also, the regret I knew George would feel after, when he finally calmed down. I knew better than he did what it felt like to take a life. I couldn’t let him live with that. Not even for someone like Steppe.

Something wild rose and sliced its way into my veins. My ribs and muscles pulled to a taut line, squeezing tighter and tighter until all at once, something popped. My pants tore first and then, as my torso expanded and elongated, my shirt ripped free.

Unlike the first time I’d done this, there wasn’t enough pain to dampen the experience. The relief of shifting—finally—filled me like a tall glass of water on a hot day. By the time my four paws hit the ground, I was overcome. I had missed my wolf. And now I knew it had missed me.

“George.” I opened my mouth, calling his name, and closed it again as my jaw locked onto his shoulder.

With a mouthful of his fur caught between my teeth, I yanked.

George yelped and spun—and stalled when he saw my wolf. I stepped between him and Steppe, although the others had pulled him far enough back that he was surrounded by another layer of bodies now, some human, some wolves.

George’s eyes narrowed as he regained his composure. “Let me have this, Tara. You can’t tell me you don’t agree with me,” he said. The words were garbled by his wolf jaw and more than that, his wild anger.

“I don’t want to take it from you,” I said. “But he and I are bonded.”

“What?” His wolf eyes went wide and he stepped back. “You’re ... When?”

“A couple of days ago.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” He stepped back and hung his head.

I grunted at him and felt my panic dial back some as the threat of the fight disappeared. Now, the bond came rushing in from all sides. This. Oh God, this was what had been holding it at bay—and I hadn’t even known.

My wolf let out a whine and I buckled underneath the weight of the voices and pictures and thoughts being poured into my mind. Dark rooms and secret deals. Politics—smiles and lies.  Whispered orders, murder. And long before all of that, a boy. Young and happy save for the rooted hate for all things four-legged and furry. Innocent and ingrained from generations of ignorant racism for a cause he believed was truly noble. A girl who felt the same. And love. Once, there was love. And a baby girl.

“Oh God,” I heard myself moan, followed closely by the sharp voices of my friends as a pair of hands and bodies swarmed closer. A blanket landed over me and it stung my raw skin. I hadn’t even realized I’d shifted back.

You can’t see this. I won’t allow it.

Gordon’s voice started as a whispered plea amid the physical pain from left over from George’s claws. I felt both like a pain of my own. When I didn’t comply, he yelled it.

Get out! These memories are mine, not yours.

Hands slid underneath me, wrapping the blanket around me like a cocoon. Still, the images hit me like a barrage of enemy fire. I barely knew whether my eyes were open or closed. What was real and what was being remembered?

How had I not seen any of this before now?

My wolf strained against the confines of the blanket as the hands scooped me up and carried me away. Now that she was loose again, she didn’t want to be shoved aside. But the bond was full and tossing me around like a rag doll against the tide of his thoughts. 

It was nothing like what I’d ever felt before from the any of the others.

Steppe had power. And knowledge. And more than that, pain. And laced through it all was his own conviction—commitment to his beliefs. The problem was that he’d managed to convince himself that killing Werewolves was a worthy and noble cause. It was hate disguised as duty. And it made me want to vomit.

As proof, my stomach swirled and flipped as the hands carrying me jostled their way through the crowd.

“Get him out of here. And George, find some clothes and stop running around on four legs,” Wes called as he pushed his way through the crowded room. He adjusted me at the bottom of the stairs and I could feel him looking down. I kept my eyes shut tight against the brimming flow of emotion.

“I keep trying to feel her but our connection is gone,” I heard George say to the others. I felt the sadness in his words even without the benefit of an emotional bond. The pang hit me dully in the center of the onslaught of Steppe’s ranting, and tears filled my eyes.

Wes pulled me close, kissing my forehead. “You’re going to be okay,” he said. “Your wolf will take care of you. And so will I.”

I tried nodding or responding, but there was nothing. Only silence. My head swung sideways as he turned to carry me to bed and a face swam into view. Familiar blonde hair, soft skin, and angry eyes stared back at me, the chaos of the room a perfect backdrop to the tunneled clarity through which I saw her.

The bond shifted and my view of her became double-paned. Two realities. Past and present. Then and now. Lies and truths. All of them attached to secrets. All of them his greatest failure, her greatest fear.

“Cord,” I said softly. I had no idea whether I’d managed the word aloud. And she didn’t react to my greeting.

Then, Wes swung me up the staircase and back to bed. I didn’t open my eyes or mouth again that night.

––––––––

I
woke hot and flushed in the stuffy bedroom. Warming sunlight streamed through the window, hurting my eyes and sending them blinking as I struggled to take in my surroundings. For a panicked moment, I couldn’t remember where I was or how I’d come to be in bed in a room that smelled like pine, decorated like a log cabin. Blankets and limbs were wrapped in each other, creating a hot cocoon. I needed to breathe. I tossed the cover aside, revealing an arm that was not my own wrapped firmly around my hips.

I followed it to its owner and remembered. The night’s events came flooding back, starting with my escape from Gordon’s lair—had that really only been twenty-four hours ago? I checked the bedside clock and sure enough, I’d only been asleep a few hours. It was barely lunchtime. In the cheerful sunlight and quiet bedroom, yesterday seemed so distant.

I relaxed and snuggled back in against a still-sleeping Wes. His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer, and I let him, forcing my brain—and my lungs—to calm down.

But the longer I lay there, the more awake I became.

My escape the previous day had been the easy part. The rest of it had been nearly overwhelming to my senses. The attack from those wolves at the highway rest stop. Derek roughing up Steppe at the side of the road while I stood by, feeling the pain. George’s attack on Steppe.

I needed to see George and the others. Make sure everyone was calm after the events of last night. I didn’t have to poke very far to know Steppe was hurting. Both from the scratches left by George’s claws and from my trespass across the stretch of his mind. Cord. No, I couldn’t think about that now.

I lay back and stared at the ceiling, disbelief still coating everything else.

I’d been so focused on keeping him at bay, pushing him out of my thoughts and memories, that I hadn’t realized I’d failed to push my way into his. But the moment I’d shifted, I no longer had a choice. My wolf made everything stronger, including, and especially, a blood bond.

There was no way to unknow what I’d learned. And no one was going to like it when I told them, either. I shifted underneath the heavy blankets, debating the possibility of escaping Wes and this room without waking him.

The moment I slid away and sat up, Wes cracked an eye. “Going somewhere?” he asked in a voice that let me know he’d been awake long before this moment.

I sighed. “I need to talk to Steppe.”

“Not a chance.” He slid his hand around my hip and pulled me back down to the mattress, sitting up on his elbow and planting a kiss on my cheek. “We’re actually in an alternate universe right now where only you and me and this room exist. There’s nothing out there for you,” he said, planting kisses between words. “Only this, here. With me.”

I smiled and gave in, turning my head to meet our lips. My hands slid up and around his neck in a movement so familiar, so heartbreakingly absent from my life these last weeks, tears welled and escaped before I could catch them.

Wes broke the kiss and dusted my cheeks with his fingertips. “What’s this?” he asked softly. “There’s no crying allowed in this alternate dimension.”

I tried for a smile but it felt small and sad. “You’re different,” I said, and behind his eyes, worry and fear flashed and were gone.

“How so?” he asked but he leaned away, his expression serious as he abandoned the jokes.

“You’re not so intense with the need to control,” I said slowly, choosing my words carefully. Something about his show of nerves put me on edge, like I might offend him by pointing out his pain. “Usually, you’d be a mess by now with everything going on and worrying about me.”

A shadow passed over his features as the fear flickered in and out again. “I’m still a mess worrying about you, but ... I’m trying to make you feel better. You’ve been through a lot and I don’t want you to be scared because you see my worry. And I don’t want to fight about it,” he added quietly. “Like we usually do.”

“Wes, it’s okay to let your feelings show. I’m not going to break.”

Or maybe I already was. But I couldn’t say that.

“I know that. But I can’t do anything else for you.” His grip on me tightened as he spoke and frustration leaked into his words. “I wasn’t there. I couldn’t stop ... everything that happened to you. I couldn’t protect you then. And now, with Gordon in your head, I can’t protect you from that either. So if I can distract you, give you happiness or a smile or whatever for just five minutes, that’s what I’ll do. Because that’s something. And sitting on the sidelines doing nothing,
that
will make me feel like a mess.”