Dark Wolf Rising (Bloodrunners) (16 page)

The Lycan lifted his brows. “Why? We’re not eating them.” He slid a sly glance toward Eric. “We’re just...
enjoying
their company.”

“Hennessey,” Eric rasped, following the plan that he and Cian had discussed on the drive over, “do you mind waiting for me outside?”

The Irishman moved to his feet. “Not at all,” he said in a somewhat deferential tone, wanting Roy to believe that he followed Eric’s orders. “I was just thinking that it’s time for another smoke.”

The instant Cian was out of the room, Roy looked at Eric with a heavy scowl. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the Runner, but you caused quite a disturbance at my club the other night, boy.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” he murmured. “I just wanted the girl.”

“Why?” Roy demanded.

With a shrug, Eric said, “I picked up on her scent and couldn’t let it go.” He flashed the older man a hard smile. “You know what that’s like, Roy. I’m sure you can still scent her on me. Not easy to resist something that smells that good.”

“Did she mention why she was there?” Roy asked, obviously fishing to learn how much Eric knew.

“She didn’t mention anything.” He slid Roy a telling look. “Just did a lot of screaming and groaning.”

The Lycan laughed. “So it was like that, was it?”

“She was fun for a while,” he said with a smirk. “But she didn’t last long.”

Roy’s brows lifted. “You killed her?” he asked with obvious surprise.

Eric gave another shrug. “Didn’t think you’d mind. The guard I fought at the club said you were putting her down anyway. I’m sorry he had to die as well, but he was trying to take something that belonged to me.”

Snorting, Roy said, “You barely knew the girl.”

Careful to keep the disgust he felt for Roy Claymore hidden, Eric casually cocked a brow. “I knew enough to know she needed to be taught a lesson.”

For a moment, Roy just stared at him, studying his eyes—then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Hell, you really are as ruthless as your old man, Drake. I’d had my doubts, after hearing about your new friends in the Alley. But I get it now.”

“We all have our public roles to play, and sometimes it’s best to keep our enemies close,” Eric drawled, moving to his feet. “I’m sure you understand that better than most.”

Roy’s only response was a smooth smile.

“To be honest,” Eric said, “the Runners were more than a little surprised to learn of your involvement at the club. It seems the Whiteclaw and the Donovans have found a common interest.”

With that perfect politician’s smile still in place, Roy said, “Like I mentioned before, we’re all about progress now.”

“Not a bad thing,” Eric agreed. “The old ways are too archaic.”

Roy nodded. “That’s true—but changes are coming, Drake.” He reached out to shake Eric’s hand. “It’s good to know there’s a voice of reason up in Shadow Peak. I’m sure you and I will have the chance to talk again, soon.”

Still feeling as if his skin was crawling, Eric closed the door to Roy’s office behind him, turned and nearly collided with the last person he wanted to see. Not because he didn’t want anything to do with Curtis Donovan. He’d have liked nothing better than to wipe the floor with the son of a bitch who had drugged Chelsea. But until they had Perry out of whatever nightmare she’d gotten herself into, he had to tread carefully.

Unlike most of the Donovans, who were tall and blond, Curtis was a short, stocky guy with shoulder-length brown hair and a goatee. He had small, kinda beady brown eyes, and a nose that looked too long for his face. At first glance, he seemed harmless enough, until you got to know what a ruthless little bastard he was.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here,” Curtis said. “I lost one of my best men because of you, and had to fire another.”

Eric snorted. “If they were your best, Donovan, then you need to do some new recruiting.”

“You always were a smart-ass,” the younger man sneered.

With a gloating grin on his lips, Eric said, “I just stopped by to let Roy know that the human is no longer your problem.”

“You think you just get to keep her?”

He sighed and shook his head. “’Fraid there’s nothing left to keep.”

“Bullshit,” Curtis snarled, his beady eyes narrowing with disbelief. “I smelled that little bitch. No way in hell would you let something like that go without getting some use out of it first.”

Though he was burning with rage inside, Eric lifted his shoulder in a lazy shrug. “What can I say? She wasn’t nearly as sturdy as she looked.”

Curtis gave a cocky laugh. “So I’m supposed to believe that Shadow Peak’s once golden boy has now gone to the dark side?”

“I don’t really give a shit what you believe,” Eric said with a sharp smile, shoving past the little jackass as he made his way back to the front of the house. He joined Hennessey on the porch, and they made their way down to the street in silence, heading back to the truck.

They’d only just started down the side street where they’d parked, when a golden-haired, good-looking Lycan male came around the back of a parked van, coming face to face with them on the sidewalk. Eric knew from his scent that the male was a Youngblood Lycan. He also caught a lighter scent on the guy that reminded him of Chelsea. Not an exact match, but similar enough for him to be sure that this male had recently been in close contact with Perry Smart.

“You’re a Youngblood,” Eric said, blocking the male’s path when he tried to go around them. “I’m Eric Drake,” he added, holding out his hand.

The guy gave him a wary look as they shook. “Jason Donovan.”

Shit. Perry Smart’s boyfriend—if that’s what this guy was—wasn’t just associated with the Donovan family. He was one of them.

Carefully watching the Lycan’s expression, Eric said, “I’ve just come from a meeting with Roy Claymore.”

Jason’s nostrils flared. “Is that right?”

He lowered his voice, not knowing who might be watching...listening. “Despite what she might hear, let your girlfriend know that her sister is safe in the Alley.”

He’d taken a chance in trusting Jason Donovan with that information, but knew from the look of relief in the younger man’s eyes that he’d made the right choice.

“She doing okay?” Eric asked.

Jason gave a curt nod. “She’s being looked after,” he said. “Nothing and no one can change that.”

“Yeah? Then it might be a good idea to let those who are worrying about her know.”

“Time to go,” Cian growled. “We’re drawing attention from one of the rooftops.”

Jason turned and walked into the nearest shop without looking back, and Eric and Cian crossed the street. They’d just reached the truck when his phone rang. He listened to Jeremy as he started the engine and headed out of town, then disconnected the call and pulled out onto the main road, going in the opposite direction from which they’d come.

“Change of plans,” he grunted when Cian sent him a questioning look. Then he hit the gas, steering the truck toward Shadow Peak.

Chapter Ten

A
fter Eric left, Chelsea spent the morning worrying about him while she dealt with her laundry, since she was down to the last of her clean clothes. She’d just put her things into the dryer when Jillian and another pretty blonde who introduced herself as Carla Reyes stopped by to check on her. When Jillian found out that she still hadn’t eaten breakfast, she ran back to her cabin for some pastries, while Chelsea put on some coffee and talked to Carla, who was a riot. She listened, fascinated, as Carla explained how she was the only female Runner for the Silvercrest pack, her partner a man named Wyatt Pallaton. When Jillian came back, they sat around the kitchen table with their pastries and coffee, spending the time just getting to know each other.

“How are things going with Eric?” Jillian finally asked, before taking a bite of her cinnamon roll.

“Um...complicated.”

“I’m not surprised,” Carla drawled. “I’ve always thought he’d be a handful. He’s got so much alpha in him, I’m surprised he doesn’t...” She suddenly jumped in her seat, a startled expression on her face as her words trailed off. Though neither woman said anything, Chelsea would have bet money that Jillian had just kicked Carla to shut her up.

Wondering what that was all about, she leaned back in her chair and said, “Cian mentioned something this morning about Eric belonging to some kind of werewolf royalty. What did he mean by that?”

It was Jillian who answered. “Just that Eric’s bloodline is one of the purest in the pack.”

“That’s it? From the way Eric was glaring at the guy, I thought it was going to be something...bad.”

“Only if you think power is bad,” Jillian said, watching her carefully. “Eric’s still feeling the burn of his father’s betrayal. So he’s a little biased against himself at the moment.”

Betrayal? She wanted to ask for an explanation, for more information about his father, but it didn’t feel right. The answers to her questions should be coming from Eric, not his friends. If he wanted to tell her, he would. If he didn’t, then it wasn’t any of her business.

Resting her chin in her hand, Jillian gave her a knowing smile. “You’ve decided to hear the rest from him, haven’t you?”

Chelsea laughed. “Did you read my mind?”

“I don’t need to. It’s obvious you care about him.”

“As a...friend,” she murmured. “He risked his life to save me. Helped me when I needed it. And now he’s trying to find Perry for me. He deserves my respect.”

“He does,” Jillian agreed. “But he wants more than that. And I think you do, too.”

Shaking her head, she said, “I’m not looking for a relationship. And I don’t want an affair.” In truth, she didn’t actually know
what
she wanted, except to get this crazy need for him out of her system.

Jillian reached across the table and patted her hand. “I understand your fears, Chelsea. God knows I had my share of them when things started to heat up with Jeremy. But my sister, Sayre, gave me a good piece of advice that I’m going to pass on to you. She said that the one who protects her heart from fear of loss ends up with no heart at all. Just an empty chest, because she has nothing to lose.”

The words resonated inside her, but she swiped them away with a mental hand, knowing damn well that it would be stupid to get hung up on a guy like Eric. He might want to have sex with her—which she was still finding a little hard to believe—but he wasn’t looking for love any more than she was. “I’m sure your sister’s right, but it’s not like that with Eric.”

“You don’t think he’s interested in mating?” Carla asked, reaching for the carafe and pouring herself some more coffee.

Face on fire, Chelsea looked at the Runner. “You mean sex?”

“She’s talking about a Lycan mating,” Jillian explained.

Lycan mating?
“What the hell is that? I mean, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Carla snorted. “Then count yourself lucky, because it’s a pain in the ass.”

Jillian sent the Runner a sympathetic look, then brought her gaze back to Chelsea. “A Lycan bond is about commitment, fidelity and a metaphysical union of the souls. In a lot of ways, it’s like a human marriage. Just...deeper.”

Fascinated, she asked, “Are you mated with Jeremy?”

Jillian nodded. “We’re a mated pair. And so are Mic and Brody, and Torrance and Mason.”

Taking another sip of her coffee, Chelsea was torn between wanting to know more, and fear of what she might learn, too many questions crowding her thoughts. How did a Lycan know who was their mate? Was it a fate kind of thing, or did they get to choose? And what exactly did the bonding entail? How was it done? Before she could decide what to ask them, they heard a vehicle roar into the Alley at full speed. Seconds later, the tires squealed as it skidded to a violent stop.

With a worried look on her face, Jillian made her way over to the front window. She peered through the glass, her brow furrowing at what she saw outside. “Oh, shit,” she whispered, quickly heading for the door. Sensing the healer’s urgency, Chelsea and Carla took off after her.

“It’s not Eric, is it?” she asked, running down the porch steps.

“No. It’s one of the women from the pack!” Jillian’s breath sucked in with a shocked gasp as they neared the car. A beautiful, blood-covered woman who looked to be in her early twenties climbed out from behind the wheel, her expression dazed as her legs crumpled and she fell to her knees in the grass.

“Casey, what happened?” Jillian shouted, crouching beside her.

“D-Davis,” the woman stammered, just before she passed out.

“That no-good son of a bitch,” Jillian muttered while Carla looked at Chelsea and mouthed “her husband.”

Together, the three of them got Casey inside the Burnses’ cabin, taking her to the spare room that Jillian said she often used for her patients. As they began cleaning away the blood with warm cloths so that Jillian could assess the damage, which appeared to be a multitude of bruises and brutal, painful-looking claw marks, Casey came to. Speaking in a halting, broken rasp, the woman explained how her husband, Davis, had come home that morning in a drunken rage after staying out all night at his favorite bar in town. Apparently, there had been some younger Lycans in the bar making lewd comments about Casey flirting with them, and instead of just talking to her about it, Davis had gone off the deep end. From what Chelsea could gather, this wasn’t the first time Davis had knocked Casey around, but Jillian promised the abused woman that it would be the last.

Once the wounds were cleaned, Jillian used her healing powers as the pack’s Spirit Walker to close them, then gave Casey something to help her sleep. They left her resting in bed, and went into the kitchen, where Jillian called Jeremy, who was training some new scouts. She let him know what had happened, then made a few more calls, before checking on Casey again. When she came back to the kitchen, the three women sat around the table with glasses of iced tea, the atmosphere rife with frustration and anger over the abuse that Casey had suffered.

“I can’t believe how much damage he did,” Chelsea murmured, rubbing her hands over her chilled arms. “Is that kind of reaction normal in Lycan males?”

“God, no!” Jillian said, giving her a look of horror. “Jeremy and the others, they can get possessive and jealous, but they would never do anything like that. No real man ever would. But like any group, there are always going to be a few bastards who need some sense knocked into them.”

They were still talking about how Casey’s husband needed to have his ass kicked, when they heard another vehicle pulling into the Alley, and Chelsea hoped it was Eric. It was crazy, but her heart immediately started thumping in her chest, her pulse rushing, just from the thought of seeing him again.

They went out to the porch, and as she watched Eric climb out of his truck she remembered how her craving for him that morning had been so instant and overwhelming she’d barely been able to breathe through it. It’d consumed her like a flame—like a hungry set of jaws coming up from the dark depths of the ocean and locking her in its grip.

More than once that afternoon, Chelsea had wondered if she’d feel like that again when he returned to the Alley—doubting that she could. It’d been so unlike her, it couldn’t possibly happen again. But she’d been wrong. She wanted him so badly it was all she could do to keep from rushing toward him and throwing herself into his arms. She stood rooted to the spot, breath jerking in her lungs, until he came closer and she realized that he’d been in a fight. His knuckles were bloodied and bruised on his right hand, his left cheek scraped raw just beneath his eye.

“What happened?” she gasped, stepping onto the top porch step just as he reached the bottom one. “Did you get in a fight with one of the Whiteclaw?”

“Not exactly,” Cian replied before Eric had the chance. “He insisted on paying a personal visit to Casey’s husband on our way home.”

She stared at Eric, distantly aware of Cian and the others heading into the cabin behind her. “How did you know?” she asked.

“Jeremy called me.” He cut a worried look toward the cabin, then brought his gaze back to hers. “How’s she doing?”

“Better. Jillian’s amazing.”

A grin briefly touched his lips. “Yeah, she’s pretty special.”

Moving down a step, she asked, “How did it go in Hawkley? Did you see Perry?”

“No, but I ran into a young guy named Jason Donovan when we were making our way back to the truck. I’m positive he’s the one Perry ran off with, Chelse. He had her scent all over him.” Before she could get too excited, he held up his battered hand and said, “I couldn’t say much to him, since I didn’t know who might be watching us. But I asked him if she’s okay, and he said that she is.”

“Then what?”

“Then Cian and I had to leave.”

“That’s it?” She shook her head, her voice thick with confusion. “You just let him walk away?”

“I didn’t have any other choice. I don’t know what’s going on with this Jason guy, or what he’s having to deal with in that pack. If we make it obvious that we’re interested in Perry, they might try to move her, even get her out of the state, and then our chances of getting her back go to hell.”

She nodded, trying to understand, but it was impossible not to question his decision. She didn’t care about Jason Donovan or the Whiteclaw. She just wanted her sister back!

As if he could sense her wariness, he lowered his voice. “I know this is difficult, Chelse. All I’m asking is that you trust me.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she took a deep breath. “I’m trying, Eric. But it’s not...easy.”

A sharp, angry look of impatience hardened his expression. “You either do or you don’t, Chelsea.”

“It’s not that simple!”

She waited for him to say something more, but he just kept staring, his gaze locked hard and tight on hers, and his dark irises began to burn with a primal, provocative light. They shimmered like pools of metal reflecting the searing heat of the sun, making her feel deliciously warm.

Cursing under his breath, he lowered his head and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, clearly struggling for control. “I don’t believe this shit,” he forced out through his gritted teeth.

“What?”

“Even when you irritate the hell out of me, I still want you,” he growled. “You are bloody dangerous.”

She fought the urge to smile, knowing it wasn’t funny. But, God, it felt good to be so wanted.

When he lifted his head again, his lashes were lowered, banking the molten glow, and he took a sharp breath. “Let’s go in and wait for the others. I need to tell them what Cian and I learned.”

They went inside, waiting for those who could make it to arrive, and once they were all gathered in the Burnses’ kitchen, Eric quickly introduced her to the ones she didn’t know, then sat beside her at the table. Mic and her husband, Brody, had gone down to the town of Covington for the day with Torrance, but Jeremy had joined the group, along with Carla’s partner, Wyatt, and Torrance’s husband, Mason.

Leaning against one of the counters, Mason slid his dark gaze toward Eric. “So what did you guys learn?”

“First of all, Clive Claymore’s boys are living back at home.”

Mason scowled. “Seb and Harris?”

Eric nodded. “Seems their old man died a few months back, giving his psychopath of a brother control of the pack. The first thing he did was send for his nephews.”

“Shit,” the Runner muttered.

“That’s exactly what we were thinking,” Cian drawled, sitting with them at the table.

“Why?” Chelsea asked. “What’s wrong with them?”

The sinful-looking Irishman gave an eloquent shrug. “Seb seems fine. It’s Harris who was always a problem. But it sounds like his uncle thinks they’re both golden.”

“So Roy Claymore’s running things now?” Mason asked, scrubbing a hand over his rugged jaw.

Eric nodded again, before relaying something Roy had said about the Whiteclaw males enjoying the company of the human girls they knew from the club—and how they’d spotted several of the girls in the town.

“How did you explain what happened on Saturday night?” she asked, since the question had been worrying her all morning.

With a grimace, he said, “I told them you were dead.”

“What?” she gasped.

“Until we can go in and get Perry, it’s best if we don’t have them sniffing around for you.”

“Not that you’re not lovely to sniff,” Cian offered with a wicked grin that had Eric shooting him a warning glare. After a few colorful exchanges, the verbal skirmish ended with Cian laughing, while Eric muttered under his breath about the Runner always acting like a jackass.

They finished up the discussion, making plans to meet up again later for dinner before the others headed out. Touching Eric’s arm to get his attention, Chelsea said, “I need to switch my laundry around and make a few phone calls. Do you mind if we head back over to the cabin?”

“You go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”

* * *

Eric watched silently as Chelsea stood up from the table. He didn’t like her leaving without him, but he needed to talk to Jillian.

“You did great today with Casey,” Jillian said, giving her a warm smile. “Thanks so much for your help.”