Dire Needs: A Novel of the Eternal Wolf Clan (13 page)

“Do what you’re supposed to and there won’t be any more punishments,” Mars murmured. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

If only it were that easy. “Linus’s son lives.”

“Liam will turn himself in for his mate.” Mars was confident in that; Seb less so. Liam was king and could not be expected to act like a silly fool for love. Rifter, on the other hand, seemed to be doing exactly that for Gwen.

It would be the Dire’s undoing. And that made Seb sadder than he’d ever thought possible.

Rifter walked up three flights of stairs, pausing at the second landing, where Gwen’s scent lingered. He realized he’d be able to track her easily now. He didn’t think she’d try to escape, but his brothers would no doubt have their reservations.

Having her here would be tricky. Letting her die alone wasn’t an option.

He climbed the last flight and didn’t knock before entering the room in the middle of the hallway, where Stray watched over Harm. He’d had Stray move him up to Rogue’s floor earlier, when he knew Gwen would be
staying with them. No need for her to stumble on anything to arouse further suspicions.

Stray wasn’t surprised to see him. “I’ve been trying to rouse him.”

Rifter noted the Taser in Stray’s hand, as well as the burn marks on Harm’s neck and arms. Stray appeared calm and unruffled, but in actuality, he was probably the roughest of the bunch, a street urchin who’d done whatever it took to survive on his own. He was used to being a loner and was still having trouble with the pack mentality.

But Stray did understand that the pack was necessary for his health. He’d been grateful to find wolves like him. He’d been exploited by Weres and humans when he was younger and living on the streets.

He didn’t elaborate much about that to anyone besides Rogue, because that man knew how to keep secrets. And at the thought of Rogue—of the capture—the calm Rifter forced himself to have so he wouldn’t lose it in front of Gwen or Liam dissipated. He picked up the unconscious wolf without compunction and threw him to the ground hard enough to dent the floor. He wanted to kill this wolf, but Rifter knew he needed Harm awake for it to be any kind of a satisfactory mauling.

It didn’t stop Rifter from picking him up and slamming him to the ground several more times. Stray Tasered Harm for good measure. Twice. The Dire’s body shuddered, but nothing else happened.

Harm looked the same as he had when he’d been trolling stages all over the world, hypnotizing the masses with his golden voice.

Bastard had always been too handsome for his own good.

“You call me the second he wakes—I don’t care what else I’m doing. I want first words with him.”

Stray nodded. “You’ll
be at the moon celebration, yes?”

He nodded. “We have two guests here—Liam, Linus’s son, and a human, but she’s sleeping. She saved Liam.”

“She’s the human from last night, isn’t she?” Stray asked. “You know I’m not the only one who’ll be asking.”

Rifter nodded. Not only would the weretrappers know, but the outlaw wolves would as well.

She was in danger with him—and without him. “We’re in some deep shit.”

“Let the moon celebration ease you,” Stray urged.

The party was always the day after the full moon. Until they had a proper way to vent their human urges, they would be too riled up to do much good for anyone. Full moons were for running wild. Moon celebrations were for feeding their primal frenzy, which followed when they morphed back to human form. The Elders knew they needed it badly, and it was a tradition the Dires continued to follow.

Stray would be relieved by Jinx because he was close to snapping. His calm countenance didn’t fool Rifter at all.

Too bad the only release Rifter wanted was with Gwen.

“Mistake,” Stray said, and Rifter pinned him to the wall.

“Cut that shit out.”

“You can walk through my mind but I can’t return the favor?” Stray asked.

“How long have you been able to do that?”

Stray didn’t answer directly. “It comes and goes. Feelings need to be strong, and yours are strong.”

Rifter pushed an arm across his throat. “Stay out of my head.”

“You do the same.”

“Did you forget I’m in charge here?”

“Then prove it.”

He would give Stray some rope because he’d been watching Harm. Even though the wolf hadn’t been with them when Harm left them originally in the early part of the eleventh century, he’d been privy to Rifter’s and Rogue’s capture, and the lone, rogue wolf inside of him was taut with untamed anger. “I’ll prove it and you won’t be happy, Stray. Watch your tongue and respect your elders.”

Stray’s eyes searched Rifter’s but he said nothing more. Rifter left, but not without a last look at Harm.

When he headed downstairs, he heard the first strains of the music start—no doubt Cyd and Cain had grown impatient with waiting, and the Weres who’d been invited would be equally impatient to party with the Dires.

Inviting the wolves was a bit like inviting sin to come out and play. Beyond Vice, whose extremes could never be ignored, both Dires and Weres were simply examples of walking primal needs. They exuded it without trying—it was part of their makeup as wolves, and they saw no reason not to revel in it.

Like the extraordinary strength and speed they possessed, it was simply a part of who they were.

Humans didn’t understand the power that lurked literally at their doorsteps, that if the Dires, no matter how small their numbers, decided to drop their tightly knit control—and that of the Weres—they’d wipe out a good deal of the population before anyone knew what happened.

It was much easier to play full human.

Sure, they’d all pushed the boundaries—dated movie stars, mingled with A-listers—but the charade and lack of resolution left them bored. It was easier to let the
wolves have fun their way instead of reveling in the ways of humans.

But now the war of the Weres, the witches and the weretrappers was settling on them with a ferocity they couldn’t ignore.

“We could just get the hell out of here,” Vice would often say. “Not everything in life is our responsibility.”

But it wasn’t that simple. The Were packs had grown tremendously over the past hundreds of years. Unfortunately, so had the human population, as the area had become something of a trendy hot spot. They would need to move farther upstate soon, but some of the packs balked. Wanted to stay and instead thin out the humans.

That would be the worst thing they could do.

Linus had agreed, and he’d been killed for his views against the dissenting outlaws. And although the Dires had long stayed out of Were politics as much as they possibly could, the pack war threatened to expose them all.

But tonight all of that was put aside—a celebration of the moon, because they knew no other way.

The event was tied in with Rifter’s dreams now, and he willed himself to forget how those ended… and he hoped he wasn’t having any kind of premonition.

As for Gwen, he knew his brothers were right. Although she wasn’t going anywhere, he couldn’t risk her discovering what they actually were. He needed to make her think she was losing it a little—if she continued dreaming of wolves, she’d be less sure that what she saw was real… plus, he wouldn’t be able to help it.

G
wen showered in Rifter’s black marble–tiled bathroom. The house, from what she’d seen of it, was far more decadent than she’d expected for some kind of Hells Angels gang. It was almost more like a rock star’s palace—all of the rooms were circular, and she’d caught a glimpse of the large kitchen in the center of the house, with a huge brick fireplace and leather couches and a white shag rug.

Somehow, it looked both modern and expensive. And pretty damned clean for a bachelor pad that housed giant men.

She wondered if the windows were bulletproof. Or at least fireproof.

She highly suspected no one was sneaking in here to plant a bomb. Still, she was glad she’d shared her worries with Rifter and told him the basics of what happened to people around her.

She’d been eight when her mother died, seventeen when her aunt and uncle’s house burned to the ground, destroying everything in it and killing them. She’d asked the judge for emancipation—couldn’t bear the thought of foster care for the year—and it had been granted.

There hadn’t been much money—no insurance because the adjustors claimed
the fire was suspicious, believed her aunt and uncle had set it on purpose to avoid filing for bankruptcy. And so she’d started out alone and with nothing. Her high school counselor helped her get scholarships and loans for college. Gwen did the same for med school, but she was still pretty broke, except for a small savings she used to rent her house.

Now, as she washed the shampoo from her hair, she thought about the things she’d lost in the fire. There had been only a few things salvaged from her aunt and uncle’s house. Some paintings had made it through, albeit with scorch marks across most of them, nearly obscuring the curious wolf-and-moon theme her aunt was obsessed with. Now they were completely destroyed.

Maybe they were cursed. Or maybe she was, as she’d always suspected. If so, these men needed to be far more worried about her than she was about them.

And she’d keep repeating that to herself until she believed it.

Finally she stopped smelling the smoke on herself and she shut off the water and walked out into the mirrored bathroom. There were clean white towels and she wrapped herself in one and searched for a shirt to wear.

Rifter had left one out for her, along with a pair of sweatpants that would never stay up. Since the T-shirt was thick and came down to her knees, she figured that would work well enough for now. She washed her underwear and hung them to dry.

Somehow, she’d have to get more clothes.

When she came out of the bathroom, she found an overflowing tray of food on the edge of the bed. She sat and ate until her stomach was satisfied—and until her head felt a little woozy.

Food coma. Coupled with all that had happened today, she was surprised she hadn’t crashed earlier. Until now, she hadn’t
thought about seizing, and although she felt light-headed, she was able to lie back and relax.

She didn’t know if it was hours or minutes later, but she found herself walking through the halls of the mansion. She’d never been a sleepwalker, but this didn’t feel exactly like a dream. No, she was slightly suspended between reality and this floaty state that propelled her toward the music.

She stepped outdoors, the snow falling on her like some kind of fairy dust, the icy grass tickling her bare feet. She wasn’t cold in the least—on the contrary, her body seemed to radiate enough heat to melt the snow as it touched her skin.

There were lanterns hung, strung along the porch, and people wandered around, coupling off. The music was sensual, and she found herself swaying to it a little as she watched, trying to get her bearings.

Jinx was here, as was Vice. There were other big men too, and lots of women. She swore she recognized some of them from around town, but faces were fleeting, like there was some kind of haze over the whole scene. She wanted to push away the gauzy curtain, but rubbing her eyes didn’t help.

It was a party of dangerous men and beautiful women. The air was ripe with lust and sex, and there was no pretense of what this party was about.

Something surged inside of her—maybe something the meds suppressed, or maybe they weren’t out of her system yet. Or maybe it was simply being anywhere in Rifter’s presence.

Because she’d smelled him on the towels, the sheets, the shirt she wore. She smelled him on her when she was naked and just out of the shower, which made no sense. And she scented him now without question.

She wondered if she was supposed to be here, but
there was no way to make herself invisible—men especially noticed her. Vice looked her way, bared his teeth even though he looked relaxed. Jinx was standing with his back to the wall, a woman trapping him in place, looking like she was prepared to kneel between his legs.

There were weapons everywhere she looked—knives and guns—and none of the women seemed as worried as she felt. As it was, she was slightly terrified but way more fascinated. Because, along with the weapons of destruction, there were flowers and drinks and beads, like it was Mardi Gras. Someone put a few strands around her neck from behind, but when she turned she saw no one. She fingered the silver and pink beads and breathed it all in.

It was a party made of magic. Even now, standing at the threshold, she couldn’t be sure if it was merely a dream. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to be so or not.

As someone brushed by her, she felt a prickle on her skin. Saw Vice’s easy smile again, this time directed to the man and woman standing with him. Heard him ask if they were afraid of the big bad wolf.

“I’m guessing you do more than huff and puff,” the woman said, and the man moved behind Vice, laughed before kissing his way down the big man’s spine. Vice pulled the woman in close and kissed her, and Gwen looked up and saw Rifter similarly surrounded by two women, but he wasn’t kissing anyone.

He was staring straight at her.

Her skin prickled, tight and warm, like she had a fever. Maybe she did. She was light-headed, dreamy. Couldn’t be sure this was reality and didn’t care.

The women next to Rifter touched his bare chest, his back, stared up at him longingly, and she let the growl rip from her throat without care. They turned to her and Rifter smiled.

God,
it was really the first time she’d seen that. It was beautiful.

The music was pounding, the air smelled heavy with perfume and musk and she wanted to dance. The women moved away from Rifter as she walked over to him and tugged against him, their bodies melding in time to the beat.

“What’s the celebration for?” she asked him.

“The moon.” He looked up at the sky and she saw it, nearly full and luminous.

“Everyone’s looking at me,” she said.

“Let them. As long as no one touches you.”

“As long as no one touches you either.”

“Feeling protective?” he asked.