Chase Me (31 page)

The air felt combustible.

“Your own family has been disproportionately impacted by genetic issues,” Krispin continued in a voice as smooth as buttercream frosting. “Your eyesight is failing as we speak. I understand surgery is recommended but that a successful outcome is by no means assured. Surely you, of all people, see the benefits of accessing heritage genetic material—”

“Alpha, thank you for your concern, but the condition of my eyes isn’t nearly that dire.” Using an even, respectful tone, Gabe repeated the arguments he’d made earlier. “We don’t yet know what kind of organic material the vials contain. It could be plant or animal matter. We don’t know whether it’s viable. It could be toxic.”

“Even if it’s lupine and viable, we don’t know how long it might take to sequence the DNA,” Elliott said. “The samples themselves might be genetically modified or biohazardous in ways we can’t predict. Krispin, I—we”—he gestured to everyone sitting at the table—“share your concern about the wolves’ genetic degradation, but you must understand that we have years of research and investigation ahead of us before—”

“You don’t know—”

“You’re right,” Lukas interrupted. “We don’t know. We don’t have enough information to make an informed decision about your proposal today—a proposal that might put your wolves at greater risk, not less. Even if the capsule contains viable lupine DNA, it will take years of work to refine the technology to the point where we can entrust our people’s safety to the process.”

Gabe sat, tense, at her side. While every Council member knew there was no love lost between Lukas and the WerePack Alpha, they always presented a united front to their people. Gabe had likely never heard anyone speak quite so frankly to his alpha before.

Krispin’s cagey glance now encompassed them both. “Gabriel, now that you’ve engaged the… ah… interest of the Valkyrie Second, wouldn’t you find it worthwhile to investigate ways to improve the health of your future offspring?”

He’d watched them. Of course he had.
Lorin’s skin crawled, and a flush washed over Gabe’s sharp cheekbones. Damn it. Krispin knew Gabe’s sore spots, knew exactly where to poke his stick. Reaching under the table, she clasped his hand more tightly.

“Lorin?” Krispin indicated Gabe with a negligent wave of the hand. “Would you taint the Valkyrie line of succession with his issue?”

Sitting in his wheelchair across the table, Jacoby Woolf’s expression froze.

“‘Taint’? His ‘issue’? Krispin, how medieval,” she drawled. How in the world could she explain to a man who didn’t realize he’d just insulted his own son? “Gabe is smart, loyal, capable, and contributing to the good of our people. Krispin, is Jacoby any less a son, a family member, a friend, a Council member—a man—because he has a motor neuron disease? No, of course not,” she answered before he could recover from her conversational sneak-attack. “Neither is Gabe.” Pausing, she looked around the jam-packed conference table. “Aren’t loved ones loved regardless of the condition of their chromosomes?”

“Any of us who are fortunate to live a long life will develop abnormalities simply due to age,” Valerian said with a serenity leavened by nearly nine hundred years of age.

Gabe sat, unmoving as one of Rafe’s bronze sculptures, and understandably so. When he’d taken his seat at the boardroom table earlier that day, he couldn’t have predicted that his private medical data and his sex life would be on the meeting agenda—or that she’d claim him, publicly and on the record, as her lover.

No, the actual words she’d used were “loved one.” She closed her eyes. No wonder he looked stunned.

Opening her eyes again, she took a shaky breath. She’d spoken nothing less than the truth.
In
for
a
penny, in for a pound.
“I could crash my truck and die during tonight’s evening rush,” she said. “Tomorrow is promised to none of us. I don’t know about you, but I’ll take today, imperfections and all.” She indicated the clock. “Time’s up. Let’s vote.”

Elliott glanced at the clock and nodded. “Willem?”

Up on the large screen, Willem displayed Krispin’s proposal. “A ‘yes’ vote authorizes fast-track genetic research on the contents of the capsule. A ‘no’ vote tables the topic pending additional analysis.” He paused. “Council members, please issue your votes.”

Reaching for the conference table’s integrated touch pad with her left hand, Lorin selected “no.” As the other Council members issued their votes, Gabe’s fingers finally, slowly, curled around hers.

She squeezed back and looked at him. When she met his eyes, she caught her breath at the emotion roiling in their icy blue depths.

“All votes have been cast,” Willem finally said.

There was an odd quality to his voice that she couldn’t place. Elliott’s, Lukas’s, and Antonia’s nostrils were twitching up a storm.

“The votes are now displayed.”

Her mother gasped.

When Lorin raised her eyes to the screen, her jaw dropped. One “yes” vote, and eleven “no”? Across the table, Jacoby Woolf’s face was expressionless.

The WerePack Beta had voted with the majority. Against his father.

And the shit was about to hit the fan.

***

“What did you say?” Lorin yelled at Andi Woolf, standing less than an arm’s length away. She could see her friend’s lips move, but the music thumped so loudly that she couldn’t hear a damn thing. The dance floor was packed. Bodies jostled and writhed, and the scent of pheromones drifted like exotic smoke. Finally, admitting defeat, she simply pointed toward the back bar.

Andi nodded and took off, elbowing through the writhing bodies like a roller derby jammer.

Why had she let Andi drag her to Underbelly? And where the hell was Gabe? She should have touched base with him before coming, made plans for later, not simply have taken Andi’s word for it that Gabe’s siblings had made big celebration plans with their brother tonight.

After being asked for a private word with his alpha after the council meeting, celebrating was probably the last thing Gabe was in the mood to do.

Was he okay? Plucking her phone from her pocket, she impatiently checked messages. Nothing.
She
couldn’t call
him
, because Bailey was still configuring his damn phone. How frustrating!

Lorin took a deep breath. She could try his desk phone again. Then, when she reached Underbelly’s back bar, she’d ask Flynn to pour her the biggest, stiffest—

An arm snaked out of the crowd, yanking her against a tall, hard body. “Damn it.” Someone’s testicles were about to be kneed clean up to their eyeballs.

“I have a bone to pick with you, Lorin.”

Chadden. She relaxed slightly—but only slightly. He had yard-long arms, and both of them were wrapped around her like octopus tentacles. His voice vibrated against the tender skin under her ear, his sharp teeth an inch away from her jugular.

She met his gaze squarely. “What makes you think I’m interested in your bone, Chadden?”

His eyes lit with self-deprecating humor. “Who isn’t, darling?”

Ah, hell.
While she wasn’t deluded enough to think him harmless, she let his arms stay where they were and started dancing with him. She had to bleed off some of the outrageous buildup of energy coursing through her body somehow, and dancing would do for now.

“I understand that your arrangement with Rafe Sebastiani has ended.”

She ignored the hard bulge at the front of his leathers. “Calling my relationship with Rafe ‘an arrangement’ makes it sound so… cold-blooded.”

“Well, it looks like you didn’t break his heart,” he said, gesturing with a sideways tip of his head that sent his dark hair sliding sensuously over his shoulder.

Twenty feet away, next to the DJ booth, Rafe danced with Bailey Brown. Though they barely touched each other, she could smell Rafe’s familiar pheromones from here.

Rafe, a human? What the hell are you getting yourself into?

“Speaking of offended”—Chadden’s voice dipped to a rumble—“Gabe Lupinsky? Lorin, I’m desolate.”

She stiffened in his arms. If Chadden said one nasty thing about Gabe or his family—

“He’s way too straitlaced for my rowdy, randy Lorin.”

A visual of Gabe lashing her lips with his talented tongue popped into her head. She considered telling Chadden that there was something to be said for devastating focus and precision, but she decided not to. Her only answer was an enigmatic, secretive smile.

Chadden kept them dancing, but his arms loosened just a little. When Lorin looked at his face, his expression had relaxed, shifting from predatory hunger back to flirtatiousness. “I bet he brings his phone to bed. In one of those hideous waistband holders.”

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “We don’t actually make it to a bed very often.”

Chadden raised an approving eyebrow. “Mr. Lupinsky has hidden depths—and he’s sitting at the back table. Despite his delightful female company, he doesn’t look like he’s having a very good time.”

Her head whipped. Gabe was here?

Chadden whispered a kiss onto her temple, a touch that comforted rather than seduced. “I wish you luck, my friend.”

“Thank you. I think I… may need it.” She returned his hug, but true to form, it didn’t take long for Chadden’s hand to drift south, from her hip to the curve of her ass. She giggled, shoving him away. “You’re incorrigible.”

He grinned, flashing his fangs. “If things don’t work out with the werewolf, you know where to find me.”

“You’re such a humanitarian, Chadden.”

“No need to be insulting.” A cacophony of female howls split the air. “Someone needs to cut those bitches off.”

Lorin glanced over to the curved leather banquette, where nearly a dozen dressed-to-kill werewolf females celebrated. Two women seated at the center of the pack wore faux balls and chains attached to their ankles, and sparkly collars and leashes adorned their necks. “Bondmate celebration.”

“Kayla Andersen is staring you down.”

Kayla was here? Where? After the hellacious day she’d had, throwing down with Gabe’s ex-girlfriend sounded… okay, it sounded great, but… hell. Diplomacy wasn’t exactly her strong suit. Her eyes cruised the partygoers milling around the edges of the banquette, looking for small, blonde, and stacked. “Where is she?”

Chadden pointed. “Ball and Chain Number One.”

Lorin blinked and looked to the center of the raucous celebration. Yes, there Kayla was, all right.

Wearing a sparkly pink leash, and holding hands with her brand new wife.

***

Gabe turned away from the dance floor as Flynn approached Underbelly’s big back table with a loaded tray. Who’d ordered tequila shots? Whoever had done so had read his damn mind. He needed alcohol, a lot of it, and fast.

“Hello, Lupinskys,” Flynn greeted them, setting the tray down in the middle of the table. “Ready to celebrate?”

Gabe shot a baleful look over his shoulder. “Yeah.” Having his loyalty to the pack questioned by his pissed-off alpha had been no treat, but coming here to find Lorin dancing with a slinky vampire who had his hands all over her?
Jesus.
As Flynn handed him one of the small, clear glasses filled with beige liquor, the vamp slid his hand onto her ass. She must want it there, because otherwise the guy would be eating teeth. “That’s just great.”

Why had he let his family drag him to Underbelly? After being dressed down by his alpha, Gabe had let himself hope that Lorin might be waiting for him. But she hadn’t been—nor had she been in her office, in Elliott’s office, or in the downstairs lab. Going up to his own office to ponder what he should do next, he’d discovered his brother and sisters in his office—there, according to Glynna, to kidnap him. “Congratulations! Mom told us about your presentation to the Council today! We’re all going to Underbelly to celebrate. Now.” After a slight hesitation, he’d allowed himself to be dragged along. On their way out, Gideon, ever the investigator, bent toward the couch, scooping up a handful of purple satin.
Lorin’s underwear
. Dropping them on Gabe’s desk, Gideon said, “Interesting work you do here, bro.”

Going out to a loud, noisy club was the last thing he wanted to do, but Lorin was MIA and Glynna wanted to dance. There was dancing, all right—and thankfully enough liquor to temporarily distract him from the sight of Lorin in another man’s arms. Fumes stung his nose as he lifted the tequila shot up to his lips and knocked it back. It burned all the way down, setting fire to his throat. “I’ll take another.”

“Who ordered these?” Gideon asked.

“Does it matter? It’s alcohol.”

Andi Woolf plopped down in the empty chair next to Gideon, pushing waves of dark hair away from her face. “Well, look at this. The Lupinskys are on the prowl.” She indicated the tray. “This round’s on me.”

Gideon cursed under his breath. Gabe spoke up before his brother did something stupid, like send the tray back. “Thank you, Andi.” Krispin Woolf’s daughter wanted to buy him drinks after the horrible day her father had caused. It was karma.