“I believed that they had been murdered.”
“Murdered?”
She nodded. Then she took a deep breath and the words just started to flow from her.
“I was attacked and left for dead. I was found, but it took me several weeks to recover. Once I did, I went back to my family home to find my brothers, only to find them gone. The property had been sold to a distant relative, and they were just—gone.”
“Where did this happen?” The story truly
was
fantastical. And horrifying.
“In England. You wouldn’t have heard about it,” she assured him, as if she’d known that was exactly what he was thinking. It was just the type of sensational story that hit the media big in this country.
“So I ended up staying with the—people who discovered me. I was with them for many years before I left, realizing that I would never fit it. That I didn’t want to fit in.”
Jensen frowned, finding her words disturbing. Disturbing in part because of the things she wasn’t saying. He started to ask more. He wanted to know about these people she had been with. Foster parents? A gang? What had she lived through, all the while believing she had to stay there, because she had no one?
But she spoke first, her question obviously shifting the attention from her to him.
“When did your grandmother pass away?”
“Nearly twelve years ago. Then it was just my granddad and me. That’s part of why I came back here. To help him out.”
“That’s nice.”
He shrugged. “He’s my only family.”
She studied him for a moment. “Why is that? I’d think a guy like you would have long since been married.”
“A guy like me?” He chuckled. “I could say the same for you.”
Her own smile disappeared, and again he got the feeling there was a lot more to that story, too.
“You know,” she finally said, another smile curving her lips, but this one looked strained as if it was almost hurting her to smile. “I really am tired. Maybe I should head home.”
For the first time, Jensen did notice the purplish shadows under her eyes. Immediately, he worried that the strange and sudden illness she’d had the other night could be returning.
“You do look tired. Do you feel all right?”
She nodded. “Just tired.”
He stood, moving to put a hand on the back of her chair to help her rise. She allowed him to catch her elbow as she rose. Then his hand slipped to the small of her back. He half-expected her to pull away. There was a reticence to her. But she didn’t move away from his touch—if anything, she leaned into it. Which made him feel a little better.
She didn’t want to talk about her past, but she did want him. He’d learn about the past eventually. She just needed time to trust him. He had a feeling trust was a real issue for her. Given what she’d told him about her attack and the loss of her brothers, he could easily understand why.
Despite the speed of much of their relationship, he longed to go slow, too. That was all he wanted, he realized. To take all the time in the world to get to know her. Not much to ask, really.
Despite his wanting to know everything, the ride home was silent. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, while he was lost in thoughts about her.
When they pulled into her driveway and he parked the truck, he was rather surprised when she turned to him rather than just excusing herself with a quickly stated,
Good night.
“I’d ask you in, but I think it might be a bad idea.”
He’d agree with that. He knew he couldn’t be alone with her and not want to touch her. And touching her would very quickly escalate to other things. She had that effect on him. But then he wanted to take forever to explore her body, too.
“I think you do need some sleep tonight.”
She nodded.
“But I’d like to see you tomorrow.”
She smiled, something akin to surprise in her eyes.
“You don’t understand why I’d want to see you, do you?”
Only the slightest shake of her head was her answer. But it was still an answer he couldn’t believe. Could she really have no idea how fascinating and beautiful and spellbinding she was? She’d had his attention from the very start, and he’d started to believe she always would.
“Well, I do want to see you. In fact, I’d like you to go to an anniversary party with me.”
She straightened. “A party?”
“Yes, my receptionist at the office is celebrating her twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. And since she’s talked of little else, I happen to know it’s going to be a big to-do.”
Jensen was sure he saw hesitation in her eyes again. But then she nodded, although her smile didn’t quite reach her pale eyes.
“I’d love to go.”
Chapter 16
D
amn, they’d been together again. Brody had been sure that the other night had been the end. He’d been sure that he’d grab her tonight. He’d seen enough. He knew enough. And he would take her tonight. There was no doubt about that.
Initially, he’d been amused that his uptight, frigid little mate had found her horny side. But now, he knew more was going on here than he’d first realized. And he couldn’t risk her doing something stupid.
The pack would not know what she’d done, and he’d make certain she didn’t utter a word about her slutty side. She was still his ace in the hole. She was the one who would get him back what he deserved. Bring back his respect and his status.
There would always be someone who wanted to bring him down, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to be his unfaithful mate and her weak, useless human lover. She was going to get Brody his life back, no matter what he had to do to her to make her cooperate.
Tonight, he was going to take her back where she belonged. By his side. Where the pack could see he was strong, in control, and superior.
Elizabeth rummaged through her bureau, looking for something to sleep in. She hadn’t been making up excuses with Jensen. Exhaustion had just seemed to overtake her. She supposed it was all the drama of the night. There certainly had been a lot.
She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. It was all rather funny and soap-operalike, except that she wasn’t happy that her brothers had actually hurt Jensen.
Two vampires against one mortal.
“Bullies,” she murmured as she tugged a t-shirt and some flannel boxers out of the drawer. She planned to give her brothers another piece of her mind, just for good measure. She wiggled out of her clothes and pulled on the new ones. Then she crawled into her bed, sighing at how wonderful the mattress felt.
She did feel oddly lighter that she’d talked to Mina, told her about some of her past. Maybe she could tell Jensen. Eventually.
For a moment, she considered forcing herself out of bed and going to her lab. She could get in a few more experiments before she fell asleep. She should do that—a cure was still her best, and only, chance to be with Jensen. But instead of moving to get up, her eyes drifted closed.
I wonder what I have to wear to an anniversary party, she mused, and that was her last thought before she sank into a deep sleep.
The house was dark and completely silent as Brody pushed open the back door. He wandered silently through the kitchen, the leathery pads of his paws only whispers against the worn hardwood. He made note of the place, of the hominess of the rooms.
Lizzie always did want a home. That was one desire she hadn’t been able to keep locked away inside herself. And from the furniture to the decorations, she’d made a real home here.
Too bad tonight would be the last time she got to enjoy her little nest. Soon she’d be back with him and the pack.
He loped up the stairs, raising his nose, catching Lizzie’s distinct scent. Relief filled him as he realized he still didn’t smell the scent he had the other times. Maybe he’d been wrong about what he thought he’d sensed. Now, he only smelled the sweet, clean scent of Lizzie. A scent he remembered well. A pure scent that he’d worked hard to taint.
It was funny that you often looked to ruin the very thing you want.
How philosophical. He made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh, although in his current state it sounded more like a small growl. He stopped, motionless. His pointed ears twitched, moving just a little to hear all around him.
Still nothing but silence. But she was here. No doubt about that.
He padded down the hallway, following his nose. The scent brought him right to her. She was nestled in her bed, the covers pulled up to her chin. He remembered her smell, but he’d forgotten how truly beautiful she was. Even his keen eyesight couldn’t tell him that from the distances he’d been watching her.
Then he frowned. He really was getting damned sappy here. Yes, she was beautiful—he’d hardly mate himself to a dog. A grin curled his lips back over his fangs at his own humor.
He stepped closer, nuzzling the covers with his snout, sniffing her scent in deeper. Oh yeah, he was going to be damned happy to have her back in his bed. Hell, he might just take her now, before they even headed back to the pack. Would she react to her dear old mate the way she had to her new, human lover? She’d better, or at the very least he’d make sure she fully remembered the experience.
But he wanted just one little taste while she was so sweet and unaware. One lick before letting her know he was there.
His long tongue lolled out of his mouth, then over her lips.
He then reared back and started to shift, something he normally did without much thought and with no side effects, but he stopped. He moved his tongue around in his mouth, realizing a certain taste laced his saliva. A taste he’d only ever heard of. A taste that he couldn’t believe came from Lizzie, his mate.
He stared at her, his wolf eyes seeing her clearly in the dark room. Shit. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.
But he knew what he’d tasted. Still tasted.
He nearly whipped back his large, black head and howled his rage. But instead, he stared at her, debating what had to be done now.
His only thought was to kill her. Just kill the whore. He took a step toward the bed, his teeth bared, his claws digging into the carpeting surrounding the bed.
He could just jump on her now and rip her throat out. She’d never even know who or what attacked her. But just as he got ready to leap, he stopped, spinning away from the bed. He silently paced the length of the bed, debating what to do.
Kill her. Kill her
.
The words echoed through his head, an animal with only one thought. One desire.
But if he killed her, he’d be in the same position that had forced him to come for her in the first place. The pack was discontent with him. They didn’t believe he was stable, grounded.
He stopped his pacing and eyed her. Grounded. An heir would give the pack the impression Brody had calmed down. A child and a wife. And Lizzie could give him both.
This was a setback, but all was not lost. Except she wouldn’t stay. He knew that now. She would go back to the mortal. Especially now.
So he’d have to deal with the human. Brody looked back at his mate, sleeping so deeply she seemed barely alive.
The human would come for her, too. There was no denying the bond between them now. As unlikely and freakish as it may be.
So he had to kill the human. That was the only answer.
Kill him
, his wolf brain whispered.
Kill him
.
He wheeled around on all fours, moving like a vanishing shadow through the house.
Kill him
.
Now,
that
he could do.
Jensen awoke, feeling as if something must have roused him, though he couldn’t say what. He listened, trying to see if a noise had interrupted his sleep. He heard nothing.
Sitting up, he glanced at the clock. It was after three. He wasn’t even sure how long ago he’d dozed off, but it didn’t feel like he’d been asleep very long.
He listened again, still hearing nothing. It must have been a reaction to a dream, he decided, shoving back the covers. While he was up he might as well take a trip to the rest room.
He padded down the hall, aware that the bathroom light was already on. Perhaps he’d heard Granddad get up or something.
Still, Granddad leaving the light on struck him as strange. Granddad was a child out of the Depression. He never forgot to switch off a light.
Even though the light didn’t seem like a particularly big thing, he had the feeling something wasn’t right. He turned away from the bathroom and headed toward his grandfather’s room at the other end of the hall.
The door was ajar, which also seemed odd for this time of the night. Jensen tapped on it lightly, and when he received no answer, he pushed it open a little more so he could see the old wooden four-poster bed his grandparents had owned for as long as Jensen could remember.
“Granddad?”
A patch of light from the open door fell across the bed, showing that his grandfather had been in bed. But now, the covers were thrown back, the bed empty.
Jensen stepped farther into the room, a wave of fear filling him. Where was he?
Had his grandfather called to him, and that was what woke him from a sound sleep?
“Granddad?” he called, loudly this time. He walked farther into the room, scanning the floors to be sure the older man hadn’t fallen down or something. The room was empty.
He rushed back to the bathroom. If he’d fallen on the tile, he could have easily banged his head. But after a quick scan of the bathroom, he realized his grandfather wasn’t there, either.
Immediately he started down the stairs, two at a time.
“Granddad?” he shouted. “Granddad, where are you?”
Just as he reached the bottom step, a sound rang out—sharp, loud, echoing through the air. Panic filled Jensen as he dashed in the direction of the sound. The kitchen.
Once he reached the room, he saw his grandfather standing in the back doorway, a rifle raised to his shoulder aimed out into the backyard.
“Granddad,” Jensen managed, although he felt a little breathless and he didn’t think it was from the race through the house. “What the hell are you doing?”
His grandfather didn’t answer right way; instead, he still trained the gun out the door.
Finally, he lowered the gun, then moved with surprising agility to close and lock that back door. He turned to Jensen.
“I just shot a black wolf.”
Jensen stared at the old man. “What?”
“I just shot a black wolf. I got up to use the john, and while I was standing at the toilet, I noticed movement outside the window. Something large and black, crouching outside the house, watching.”
Large and black. Crouching. Instantly, Jensen remembered what he’d seen in Elizabeth’s barn.
“A wolf?”
Granddad nodded. “I couldn’t see it too clearly from upstairs, so I went and got my gun and came down here to get a better look. When I got down here, it was on the back porch.”
“A wolf?” Jensen repeated.
“Yes,” his grandfather said, as if he thought he was the one who had to be mad.
Again Jensen just gaped at him. “And you shot it?”
“Just wounded, I think. I would have gotten him, if you hadn’t started caterwauling. Startled me, and gave him the warning he needed.” Granddad actually pursed his lips, peeved.
“Granddad, there aren’t black wolves in West Virginia. It had to have been Tim McCormack’s half-deaf old Newfoundland.”
Granddad’s eyebrows rammed together as he scowled at Jensen. “You don’t think I know the difference between a wolf and a Newfoundland? You forget, young man, that I was working with animals in these parts long before you were even a twinkle in your daddy’s eyes.”
Jensen took a breath, finding it hard to believe they were even having this argument. It was true that if anyone knew animals, it was his grandfather. But his grandfather also knew that there were no wolves in this part of the state. Had he somehow bought into the sensationalized stories in the newspaper of late?
“Could it have been a feral dog? A coydog, maybe?”
His grandfather shook his head. “I know what I saw. And I know what I shot.”
Jensen nodded, for a moment believing his grandfather. He knew what he saw in that barn. Except he didn’t. He had no idea. Maybe both he and his granddad had hallucinated this crouching black creature.
Maybe Granddad wasn’t as lucid as he always believed. He was getting older. But that didn’t explain away what he’d seen.
“Okay, well, maybe we should just head to bed.”
His grandfather shook his head. “I think I’m pretty awake now.”
Jensen couldn’t argue that one. He didn’t think he could get back to sleep now, either. Instead, he moved to the counter.
“Coffee?”
His granddad nodded and wandered over to sit down at the kitchen table. Jensen noticed as he started to measure coffee into the filter, that his grandfather still held the rifle.
Whatever he thought he saw, it had shaken him. Just like it had shaken Jensen.
Elizabeth knew something wasn’t right as soon as she woke. Nothing she could pinpoint, exactly—a strange scent, a funny feeling, but nothing that made her think,
Ah! That’s it!
But when she saw Jensen arrive at her door, she wondered if he’d somehow been transmitting a weird vibe that she’d managed to pick up.
“You look terrible,” she said, opening her door wider to allow him in.
He stepped inside, then turned to her. “You look absolutely stunning.” His gaze roamed over her, taking in her halter-cut black gown. His eyes lingered just briefly at the plunge of the neckline.
She immediately felt pleasure and regret mingle inside her. She was thrilled that he thought she looked good, but she should have tempered her comment to him a little more.