Grayslake: Furrever Yours (Kindle Worlds Novella) (3 page)

He shook his head as they drove aimlessly, heading back to Sugar Creek.

Right on cue, Knox’s phone rang, and a quick glance showed that it was Eugene calling.

He let out a growl of anger before he grabbed the phone and answered.

“Yes, sir. We still haven’t found her,” he said.

“You mean nobody has been able to pick up her scent?” Eugene Hanson demanded.

“I had half a dozen of my men going through the woods looking for her outside the hospital. She ran down to a local creek and used that to throw us off her trail. They’re still searching,” Knox said wearily.

“Only half a dozen? Why not more? It was your error, letting her escape. You should have your whole pack on her trail.” The arrogance in his voice set Knox’s teeth on edge. And it was Eugene and his son’s error, not his; she’d fled their pack, after all.

Knox restrained himself from pointing that out, however. “I spoke to the emergency room personnel last night. Margaret was unconscious when she arrived. She was apparently severely beaten.” He wasn’t going to let this go.

“And?”

“And that’s a problem. You told me that your son’s intended mate stole his money and ran off, and you wanted to find her. Now I’m wondering why she ran off.” And if she’d really stolen anything, but he wasn’t quite ready to call the Northeast Alpha’s son a liar. “I don’t stand for abuse of women. Alpha.” He added that last bit partly as acknowledgement of the other Alpha’s status, but partly with a hint of snark to it.

“I doubt she was injured that badly,” Eugene scoffed. “Humans lie all the time.”

“There were bloodstains on the sheets, and security video at the hospital shows one of the nurses carrying her in, completely limp, in his arms.”

“There’s no security videos showing her leaving?”

“No, unfortunately, there are no security cameras in the back lot, which is the last place I scented her,” Knox said. And because of the hospital’s security system, he knew there was only one way she could have gotten out the back – with an employee’s help. He strongly suspected that had been Heather, but he wasn’t handing Heather over to the Northeast Alpha, no matter what.

Eugene let out a heavy sigh. “She was probably unconscious because she’d been drinking, to be honest with you,” the Alpha said. “I am not saying that my son made the best choice with this female, but her pack came to an agreement that she would be my son’s mate, and she will honor that agreement.” Eugene’s son Kevin had left New York and moved to Pennsylvania to start his own pack.

“Her pack came to an agreement…she didn’t?” Knox felt the twist of uneasiness inside him grow.

“She was on board with it one hundred percent.”

If that was the case, why hadn’t Eugene said that in the first place? Knox had the uncomfortable feeling that the Alpha was lying. “And she and her pack benefitted from it financially – they were given additional land from our territory, and a substantial dowry. And then she spent the money and ran off, after rifling through my son’s wallet, because apparently, although she is very attractive and comes from a line of strong Alphas, she is also flighty and unreliable. I am not denying that my son was thinking with his dick when he made this arrangement, but it is an insult to our honor to have her flee this mating, and therefore she will be brought back to our territory to fulfill her duty. Do I make myself clear?”

The Alpha in Knox was starting to get pissed off at Eugene’s tone.

“Why do you even want her back, if she’s not only flighty and unreliable, but a thief and a drunk?” he asked. “What kind of mother would she be to his cubs? Why not just announce that your son has dumped her and have him pick a more suitable mate?”

“Because everyone knows that she ran off, which makes my son’s pack look weak. That will not be tolerated. You will return her. Again – do I make myself clear?”

Knox let out a low, rumbling growl, and was about to tell Eugene to shove it when Clarence grabbed his phone away and turned it off.

“I’m sorry, Alpha,” Clarence said with a respectful bow of his head. “It’s better that he thinks you hung up on him than hear what you were just about to say.”

“Fuck my life,” Knox grumbled.

Couldn’t something for once go his damn way?

For the last year, he’d been achingly in love with a human woman whom he could never mate – because the existence of shifters had to stay a secret. If she knew about shifters, she would either have to agree to be his mate, or be put down.

He’d known from the minute he’d first scented her that she was meant to be his. That was why, when he’d first met her, he’d fled the accident scene as if his fur were on fire. She was human – he couldn’t have her.

He hadn’t been sure if he was delighted or horrified when it had turned out that, by amazing coincidence, she’d moved to his area. Going into the emergency room where she worked was sweet torture. He could see her, scent her – but not touch her.

All he wanted to do was grab her and pull her to him, to tear off her clothes and claim her as his. When he saw other men talking to her, he had to fight with every ounce of strength not to lunge at them and rip their faces off.

The other week he’d seen her holding the hand of a seventy-five-year-old with a broken hip.

Knox had wanted to kill him.

He knew he’d been getting more and more surly over the past year, and he hated it. He didn’t want to be like this.

And now this. There was something fishy going on here with this Margaret Romaine, and he was afraid of what he’d find when he tracked her down. Afraid that he would be faced with the option of handing her over to an abusive mate, or standing up against the Alpha of the entire Northeast – which would mean death at least for him, if not his entire pack.

He rubbed his face wearily with his hands. Heather knew something. She was a terrible liar. He’d have to stop by her house today to talk to her, he realized, but he’d at least let her get some sleep after her overnight shift.

Heather drank a cup of decaf as she sat at her tiny kitchen table across from Margaret. Caffeine right now would just mean she didn’t sleep well; it was hard enough sleeping during the daytime, although she was finally starting to get used to it.

She watched Margaret devouring raspberry Pop Tarts along with a pile of crispy bacon she’d just cooked for her.

So. Werewolves liked Pop Tarts. Or at least this one did.

If she hadn’t been so exhausted, she’d have been a lot more freaked out. That would come later, she imagined, once she’d had a chance to sleep for a few hours.

Still. She wasn’t quite ready to crawl off to bed yet. She was sitting across from a girl who was magic.

Margaret had borrowed a pink tracksuit from Heather’s closet, and it hung off her small frame and made her look even more tiny and vulnerable. Her injuries had healed remarkably fast, though. Her bruises were no longer black; they were in the yellow-and-green stage of healing, and the cuts on her lips had closed.

Despite the bruises, she was very beautiful, in a fresh-faced, dewy, teenager kind of way. It was just the look in her eyes that made her look older; they were eyes that had seen too much and could never forget it.

“How many different species of shifter are there?” Heather asked the girl, fascinated.

“Lots,” Margaret said wearily. “Mostly bears and wolves and hyenas in this area. But there are lots of other kinds. Lions. Moles.”

“Weremoles?” Heather’s eyes widened with surprise. “Really?”

“Sure. I was friends with a weremole. Her name was Tatiana.” She smiled faintly in reminiscence. Then her smile vanished. “Couldn’t tell my dad about it – he’d have smacked me upside the head. They’re a weak species, so I shouldn’t be friends with them.”

“Wow. He sounds like a total jerk,” Heather said indignantly.

“He’s more than that. He drove my older sister to suicide,” Margaret said quietly, setting her pop tart down on her plate and staring at the table in front of her.

“Oh my God. I am so sorry.”

Margaret gave a tiny shrug. “It was a couple of years ago,” she said dully, but the sorrow in her voice said that the pain was still fresh.

“What happened?”

Margaret grimaced. “He arranged for her to marry this rich old guy. My sister was eighteen and this guy was sixty. The guy paid my dad a ton of money for the marriage, but she refused to go through with it. So my dad kept my sister locked up without food and water to force her to give in, and she hung herself.” Margaret blinked back tears.

“He will never get his filthy paws on you again,” Heather said, her voice shaking. “Are all wolf packs like that?”

Margaret shook her head. “I don’t think so. We live in a pretty isolated little tiny town, and my dad keeps a tight rein on the pack so we can’t talk to other packs and tell them what’s happening there. We don’t have phones on the property, and nobody leaves pack lands without his permission.”

“But he tried to have you marry this guy from another pack?”

“Yeah, this guy Kevin put out the word that he was looking for a mate, and my dad sent the guy a picture of me. And then they made some kind of business deal and I pretended to go along with it so my dad wouldn’t lock me up like he did my sister.”

She winced. “But he still wasn’t taking any chances. I was guarded up until it was time to send me off to be with the other pack. When I got to Kevin’s house, I managed to climb out a window on the second floor, climb down a tree, and escape.”

“Why did you come here?”

“I was trying to get as far away from home as I could. I know this hyena, Roy, who used to live in our area, who moved down here with his family, so I came here and asked him for help. He was hiding me in his room, but I guess Kevin put a reward out, and his parents found out and called up Kevin behind my back. Kevin came down here, and when he got to their house, he went crazy.” She shuddered. “He dragged me into this room and he just started hitting me and hitting me. My friend Roy heard me screaming, and he ran into the room and maced Kevin, and I guess he drove me to the hospital and left me there.”

She sighed. “He probably had to leave the state after that.” Then she looked up at Heather. “I’m putting you in a lot of danger. Humans can’t know about our existence. I mean, occasionally humans marry shifters, so they know, of course, but otherwise it’s strictly forbidden.”

Humans can marry shifters
? Heather thought, feeling a sharp sting of rejection. So there was no reason that Knox couldn’t ask her out, then, was there?

She kept wanting to believe that he liked her. And she kept finding proof that he didn’t.

But that was the last thing she needed to worry about right now. Her job was to keep Margaret safe.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said to Margaret. “I went into this business because I wanted to help people. And I knew that working in the E.R. can be dangerous.” Of course, she hadn’t anticipated that the danger might come from people who turned into animals, but the principle was the same.

Heather leaned back in her chair, frowning in thought.

“All right,” she said. “We’ve got to get you out of town. In a few days, I’ve got three days off in a row. I can take that time to drive you to Mississippi. I’ve got some cousins there who will let you hide out. We can’t go before then, because if I asked for a day off, and Knox is still sniffing around the E.R., it might look suspicious. So until then, we’ll just lay low.”

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway made Heather start. Margaret pushed her chair back, a fearful expression on her face.

“Hold on,” Heather said. She ran over to the window and peered through the frilly yellow curtains, then breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she said. “It’s just the woman who owns this house. Go up to your room – I’ll go out and talk to her.” She hurried out to the front porch to greet Olive, her ninety-year-old landlady. She’d met her when she’d come to town to accept her scholarship at the community college. Luckiest meeting ever; Olive happened to have an adorable little house for rent, and it was super cheap, which meant that it fit Heather’s budget. Barely.

Now she stopped by all the time, always bringing Heather presents and chatting about her family.

Today she came up the steps holding a few jars of homemade jam, with a cheerful look on her wrinkled face. Her snow-white hair had been set in perfect waves at the beauty parlor, and she wore a yellow floral housecoat and matching yellow sneakers.

“Time for a cup of coffee, dear?’ she said, bustling right past her, and Heather had to stand aside to let her in. Normally she wouldn’t mind; Olive was chatty and hilarious and Heather loved her to pieces. However, she didn’t want Olive to wander around the house while she had Margaret tucked away upstairs, so she’d have to come up with an excuse to get rid of her quickly.

She yawned hugely as she let Olive in. She wasn’t faking it; she was just about dead on her feet.

“Olive, those jars of jam look delicious, thank you so much,” she said, and yawned again. “I would love to have coffee with you sometime, but I just got home from my shift a little while ago and I’m ready to fall over.”

“Oh dear, I won’t keep you then. You get some sleep,” Olive said, setting the jars down on the counter.

As she did, Heather could have sworn she saw Olive scent the air.

Yep, definitely. She was doing that subtle nostril-flaring thing.

Okay, so Olive was a shape-shifter too? What species? Heather wondered. She wished she could ask her about it, but if humans weren’t supposed to know about shifters, that would put Olive in an awkward spot.

“Before I forget. There’s a downtown music festival coming up next Friday, and I wanted to see if you’d like to go,” Olive said. “I don’t have anyone to go with me. At my age, you know how it is, I don’t have too many friends left.” She made a mournful face.

Heather stifled a snort of amusement. Olive had grown up in Sugar Creek and lived here her whole life; she had plenty of friends of all ages, and she visited her family all the time. But for some reason she wanted Heather to go with her.

Olive was a caring soul; she was always asking Heather about her social life. She probably just worried that Heather didn’t know enough people in town.

“That sounds great.” Heather yawned again, and Olive turned to go.

After she left, a sudden alarming thought struck Heather. What if Olive was searching for Margaret too? She wouldn’t do that, would she?

She stood there for a moment, pondering. Olive was the sweetest woman in the universe, and she couldn’t imagine her turning Heather over to an abusive pack, but then again, she wouldn’t have thought that about Knox either. Maybe wolf pack rules were different.

She hurried upstairs to talk to Margaret. She needed to make some alternative plans.

* * * * *

Heather was curled up in her bed, fast asleep, when she heard loud crashing sounds that yanked her awake.

She leaped to her feet, panic clutching at her throat. Margaret – did they have Margaret? Whoever was here was downstairs. She’d stop him – with a bullet, if necessary.

She reached into her nightstand drawer and pulled out her revolver. She hadn’t been to the shooting range in a while, but she was pretty confident she could hit her target in close quarters.

She hurried down the hallway and down the stairs, wishing she were wearing something a little more intimidating. She was wearing her usual her pink bunny print pajamas. And her bunny slippers. Now, there was a sight to make a burglar’s blood run cold.

When she got to the kitchen, she realized that it didn’t matter what she was wearing – she was screwed.

Two giant wolves were prowling through her kitchen. They were twice the size of normal wolves. Huge, bristling with anger, eyes glowing gold, black lips curled back in rage.

Slowly, they both turned to look at her, and one of them crouched down low, haunches quivering.

She fell back with a shriek, and forced herself to point her gun at the one that was crouching.

She fired, hand shaking – and missed. It raced across the room towards her, paws scrabbling on the slick laminate wood floor, and she slammed the kitchen door shut. Its enormous body thudded into the door so hard that the house shook and the door splintered.

The wolves in the kitchen seemed to be fighting. As she stumbled towards the stairwell, she heard furious howls, and then a yelp. She heard a short succession of yips and howls, and then a thud.

Then the door crashed down – right off its hinges. An enormous wolf climbed over the splintered remains of the door and stalked into the hallway, and she gasped and fell back against the wall. The wolf’s jaws were dripping with blood. She was paralyzed with fright. Her hands felt numb. She struggled to raise the gun and point it, but she knew it would be too late.

Instead of attacking, though, the wolf shuddered and rippled, and the fur began melting back into its skin, and within less than a minute, it had turned into Knox.

Knox was stark naked. Heather gasped and looked away, but not before she saw his enormous cock dangling from a thatch of dark curls. Dear God. Could that thing even fit inside her?

Why was she thinking that?

“Heather,” Knox growled. “Where is she?”

“Where is who?” Damned if she was going to make this easy on him.

“Never mind,” he grumbled. “I’ll go find her myself.”

He ran up the stairs past her, and she heard doors banging open. There were only two bedrooms in the house, both upstairs. She heard him howl in frustration when he didn’t find what he was looking for.

He thundered downstairs. “Where did she go?” he asked.

She turned and looked at him with big, innocent eyes.

“Where is who?” she said.