Dire Needs: A Novel of the Eternal Wolf Clan (32 page)

Still, he threw the knife to the ground. This would be a fair fight—and a fair kill—just as tradition called for.

The men caught each other by the arms, turned in a circle as humans under the sky, which was as deceptive as Teague himself. A man he’d never called friend, but one he could’ve easily called brother.

To ask why—from either of them—would be futile.

The shift occurred for both men almost immediately after they completed the first circle. Liam wasted no time in going for Teague’s throat. As a younger and slightly smaller wolf, Liam didn’t have the advantage. But with the anger pounding through his body, he didn’t need size or training.

This was avenging his father, and he tore Teague’s throat out and then ripped his body apart, piece by piece, under the thunderous sky.

He killed Teague but couldn’t bring himself to do the same to Max… not yet, anyway. He’d already taken enough from her child as it was. And when he got back in the truck, leaving Teague’s disrespected body out to be discovered by the other outlaws, he was soaked and bloody and barely able to stop himself from trembling.

But he did.

Max’s sobs were muffled by her fist pressed to her mouth. He didn’t look at her on the drive back through the rain—the truck barely making it over the bridge, water lapping at the tires.

When he pulled back into the safety of the Dire garage, Max was still crying softly. He’d need to have Gwen or Jinx check her out to make sure the shock wasn’t doing anything harmful to the baby, even though he cursed himself for caring.

“You knew,” he said quietly. “Knew the baby wasn’t mine the entire time.”

“
You knew
what I was from the start.”

He had. “Loyalty was never your strong suit—you just pretended it was.”

“That’s not true—I needed to go with who I thought was the toughest—the unbeatable one. I didn’t want to end up on what I thought would be the losing side ever again,” she told him. “I’m farther along than I told you. You were away with Linus on pack business when it happened.”

There was nothing more to say—they’d both been very wrong. And so he walked her inside, put her back into the locked room and went to find Vice.

He’d opened up a shit storm of trouble for himself and the Dires, and he was prepared to deal with the fallout.

Instead
of Vice, he found Jinx, pacing anxiously in front of the fire. “Hey, where’d you go?”

Liam told him, keeping his voice from shaking—anger and pain were harder to keep out than he’d thought—and Jinx stared at him for a long moment. “Vice’ll be proud as hell.”

“The outlaws are going to come here looking for me,” he said.

“Let them.” Jinx’s voice was firm, fierce and unwavering. “You’re going to need to start assessing pack loyalty. And I know two young wolves who wouldn’t mind being a part of your pack, if you’ll have them.”

“Cyd and Cain?” he asked, and Jinx nodded. “I couldn’t think of two better right-hand men.”

“Good.”

But there were far more problems to be solved. “What do I do with this baby?”

Jinx didn’t give him an easy answer. “Technically, she’s part of your pack, so you do what your traditions tell you to. It’s the best way to maintain control and your status as a leader.”

Death to the mother; send the child away. Banished to a rogue life… no doubt he’d be dead before his conversion. A leader would make the hard decisions, do what needed to be done for tradition and pack pride.

If he couldn’t… he would have to walk away from his pack altogether. There was no other choice for him.

“I’ll grab you something to eat,” Jinx told him.

“Not hungry.”

“You’ll eat anyway,” Jinx said before disappearing. For a long while, Liam stared at the floor contemplating his past, present and future. When he looked up, Cain was in front of him, holding a plate with several large sandwiches.

His stomach growled in spite of everything. He ate quickly, thanked Cain.

“You’ve had a rough night.”

“I’ve lost everything.”

“
You have your pack,” Cain pointed out. “You have me and Cyd. Don’t fuck up your opportunity because of a human and her frailties.”

W
aking up would require work—Gwen’s limbs were heavy, even while her head felt floaty and dizzy.

The rustling in her ears was incessant—she wanted to cover them and scream, but knew it wouldn’t block anything.

She would have to accept the pain and let it in. She groped in the dark until she heard a familiar voice and turned toward it. “Rifter?”

“I’m here, baby girl.”

Her body felt like she’d been beaten and lost the fight. “I thought I shifted.”

“You didn’t. You’re… caught in the shift,” he explained.

“That can’t be good.” She focused enough to see Rifter’s face next to her. “Am I awake?”

He shook his head no and held her hand in his. “I won’t leave until you are.” He was her beacon, would make everything worth it. She focused on that. “Put your hands on me.”

He did—his touch hot, electric. “More,” she moaned, and then wondered if it was a good sign that she wanted him so badly, despite the pain.

His hands roamed under her shirt, along her rib cage,
and then they covered her breasts as his mouth did the same to hers.

She couldn’t resist him any more than she could breathing. His mouth took hers in a way that discouraged any thought of resistance—she was wet between her legs, needed the weight of his body on hers immediately, here and now.

It appeared Rifter felt the same, since she found herself wrapped around him.

“Claim me,” she heard herself murmur, and he did, with his hand. She wanted more, but he stopped her when her hands found his arousal.

“Gwen, we can’t—gotta get you out of the shift first.”

She acquiesced, only because his fingers drew her so close to orgasm she could do nothing but lie there and accept it. Reveled in it, as her hips drew up to meet his strokes, his lips dragged kisses along her neck and breasts, soothing the imaginary wounds and making her forget her troubles.

His fingers took her, moved rhythmically, his thumb circling her clit. Why was this so easy with him? There was no worry or embarrassment, only a longing for him greater than she’d ever known.

“More,” she told him. And he gave it to her, brought her to a first and then second orgasm in quick succession while his tongue played on her nipple and her body soared with pleasure.

If she wasn’t already unconscious, she would’ve sworn she passed out. But when she opened her eyes, everything was covered in that thin, gauzy film, the way it had been at the party. This wasn’t the first time Rifter had walked inside her dreams, but now that she knew what was happening, she was definitely not comfortable with it.

Knowing she was stuck between worlds this time definitely added to her fear.

After her heartbeat returned to normal, she looked around. They were in Rifter’s bed, not outside, which was the last place she remembered being. “I’m sorry… I tried to hold it off, but I got so mad—at Max and then at Harm.”

Rifter stretched, his massive chest rippling when he shrugged. “That’ll do it, especially when your wolf is young and uncontrolled.”

Your wolf…
“Does Harm hate me?”

“No. He doesn’t want you to be immortal, to have to deal with what we’ve had to.”

“His life doesn’t seem so bad,” she muttered.

“He’s alone, Gwen. We all are—and I was.” He paused. “Our mating gives them a hope they don’t want. Because this might all be an aberration, a once in a lifetime. We were prepared to never have mates. So my brothers are pulling for us as hard as we are… and I hope the Elders let them experience what I am.”

She let that soak in for a long moment. Stroked his hair, touched his lips with her fingers. And then realized that, if Rifter was in her dream with her, the way he’d been the first night they met, something could possibly be wrong.

“Rifter, did I… I mean, I felt like something was happening to me. But did I actually… you know…”

“Shift?” He took her hand and held it. “No, you didn’t. I think you’re trying, but it hasn’t happened yet. You’re in human form still.”

“And asleep?”

“Unconscious.”

Damn it. “What can I do?”

“Jinx is checking you—your breathing’s a little shallow but everything else is okay. It might just take your body some time to give itself over to Sister Wolf.” He paused. “Do you still hear her?”

She didn’t, hadn’t
since the incident on the lawn. She concentrated, tried to hear anything, but it was terrifyingly quiet. If Rifter hadn’t been here with her…

Suddenly, she heard Rifter’s muffled curse and realized they were moving. It was like the first night she’d met Rifter—more like floating than actual walking, but they were outside and then they were someplace she didn’t recognize.

She smelled blood—and fear—and there was confusion. She was behind Rifter but she was seeing the scene like she was living it. Like she should know where she was.

It took her a moment, but she did.

Battlefield. Rifter’s pack. The slaughter. She was terrified, especially when she fell to the ground next to Rifter and a shadow passed over her. He held her hand tightly and they began to float up among other spirits.

“Don’t let go,” she told Rifter. He tightened his grip.

Thankfully, the spirits rose ahead of them while she remained somewhat firmly rooted on the ground with Rifter. But they were walking—not back to the warm, comfortable bed. No, they moved forward from the battlefield to inside—a hot, stifling place.

The walls—they
dripped
—blood, maybe? She didn’t want to think about it—she was already light-headed and warm, like she had a fever that wouldn’t break.

“Don’t touch anything. Only make eye contact with me,” Rifter warned, and she kept her eyes pinned to his back.

It was almost as if her feet weren’t touching the floor, not completely, anyway. She was far more out of it in this dream than in the others. And yet everything was somehow much more real in this one, which made it horrifying.

“I want to turn back,” she said.

“Me too. But I can’t.”
They were both being propelled forward by an invisible force. What waited on the other side of that doorway was anyone’s guess.

“Let go of my hand and wake up,” she begged him. “You’re being pulled because of me.”

He didn’t deny it, but he held fast to her hand as they reached a long corridor with what seemed like a million doors on each side. The hallway got smaller and smaller until she could only walk behind Rifter, not next to him.

He didn’t let go of her hand once, though. Finally, he stopped at a door and paused, then opened it with a strong kick, slamming it and cracking the frame. She jumped and followed him into the room, which was so dark…

And they weren’t alone. She squeezed his hand and he turned to her. “I’ve never been able to get this far on my own. I’m sorry—I don’t mean to scare you… but we’re close to Rogue—I can feel it. And it’s going to get ugly.”

“I’d rather be scared with you than alone and terrified,” she said, and meant it, but when she heard the unearthly shrieking begin, she backed up and refused to go any farther.

She didn’t ask any more questions, not when the heat hit her, followed by the screams. They were hollow sounding, mournful. They climbed into her soul and clung there, and she felt like she’d never, ever forget the sound, no matter how old she lived to be. “Is this where his mind is all the time?”

“I think so. I never knew if he was keeping me out or if I wasn’t strong enough to get to him.”

But with her, he was. She supposed this wasn’t the time for the hows and whys, and so she forced herself to breathe, asked, “How can he stand this?”

“He hasn’t had a choice.”

It had to be hell—or a close facsimile. There were sharp rocks under her bare feet and she was sure she was bleeding, but she stayed close to Rifter as they moved into the complete blackness.

Flames licked the walls. She heard chanting but couldn’t see the source.

And then she felt Rifter stiffen.

Rogue looked like Jinx except his hair was dark, like Rifter’s. Rifter reached out and turned Rogue’s head toward them, and she saw that the entire left side of his face was covered in a tribal glyph pattern.

From the way Rifter touched it with a shaking hand, she guessed it hadn’t been there before. But Rogue’s arms and chest were marked with black and red symbols that she couldn’t interpret and Rifter didn’t look surprised to see those. “This one,” he pointed to Rogue’s face. “New markings.”

“And the rest of them?”

“They come and go—he calls them protection,” he said. The ones on Rogue’s face didn’t look anything like the others. His voice was hoarse when he cursed, “Goddamn it,” quietly.

At that, Rogue opened his eyes. “Not smart to use that name down here, you know? And who’s the human… whoa. What the hell’s going on upstairs?”

Rogue was in hell, and it wasn’t one of his own making. It was worse than being locked up in the weretrapper jail, and Rifter had to force himself forward. He wished he didn’t have to take Gwen with him.

But to leave her behind… she was terrified. He wouldn’t make things worse since she obviously couldn’t see the mare sitting on Rogue’s chest, keeping him in a constant state of sleep paralysis.

The mare was like a succubus, and now it all made sense.
There was no way to move her without killing the person who’d cast the original spell. It was probably Seb, and killing the witch could prove to be next to impossible. The mare kept her eyes focused on Rogue, not turning her head at all toward Rifter or Gwen. And when Rogue stared at him, there was a silent “we won’t mention this part to Gwen” message sent between them.

“This is Gwen—she’s Harm’s daughter.”

Rogue lay on a bed similar to the one at the Dire mansion, but this was ringed with silver, rendering him immobile. He blinked and looked up at Rifter. His voice was hoarse, familiar. “Lookin’ like a king,” he said, with a glance toward Gwen. “Sorry I can’t greet you properly.”

She moved forward, touched his forehead. “Does it hurt?”