Untamed (2 page)

“What did she say?”

“She told me to get lost and called me a stalker.”

Kerry laughed long and hard, and Dante tried to suppress a smile, but to no avail.

“What on earth are the two of you laughing at?” William asked, openly bothered by their reaction. He stood ramrod straight as he watched their blatant amusement at his conundrum. “I don’t find this the least bit funny.”

“Oh, William.” Kerry wiped at the tears that were streaming down her face as her laughter subsided. “I’m not sure what’s more amusing. Your reaction to her, or the fact that you just don’t understand why a woman—whether she’s a human, an Amoveo, or a hybrid—wouldn’t want to be stalked?”

“Well, what on earth am I supposed to do?” William’s brow furrowed. “You know that the dream realm connection is crucial to our mating process.”

“How about introducing yourself to her in real life? What do you know about her aside from the fact that you
think
she knows she’s a hybrid.”

“I don’t
think
,” he snapped. “I
know
that she’s aware of her Amoveo heritage.”

“Fine.” Kerry sighed and folded her arms. “If she knows what she is, then who the hell raised her? It can’t be an Amoveo, right?” She looked at Dante. “Wouldn’t other Amoveo know about it? I mean, where in the hell has she been all these years?”

“I’m not sure of anything anymore,” William murmured. “You know that the prince informed the rest of the Council members that Purists like Brendan and Pasha wouldn’t be tolerated. He has publicly embraced the idea of humans mating with Amoveo, and he wants any other hybrids found and brought into the fold and protection of their clan.”

William couldn’t help but notice Dante flinch at the mention of his father’s name; his betrayal was still raw, a wound that would never heal. Brendan and the rest of the Purists wanted Kerry and Samantha dead, as well as anyone who would encourage the cross-mating of humans and Amoveo.

“I know she was raised in a rural area of Maryland by a human woman,” William continued. “I do not believe that the woman who raised her is a blood relation, but she must know about the Amoveo.”

“Hey,” Kerry said brightly. “I have a crazy idea. Why don’t you actually go and introduce yourself? Y’know? In person—as opposed to dream-stalking the poor woman.”

William blinked in surprise. “I am not stalking her. I’m solidifying our connection via the dream realm,” he said adamantly.

Kerry looked at him as if he were a complete moron.

“Yeah,
you
were raised by two Amoveo, but you’re telling me that you believe
Layla
was raised by a human, so how much does she really know?” She looked from William to Dante and shrugged. “Sometimes a small amount of information is more frightening than none at all.”

William nodded in agreement. Kerry was absolutely right. All he knew was that she had some idea that she was Amoveo and could control certain aspects of the dream realm. The cold, hard truth was that he didn’t know much of anything, and he found that to be the most uncomfortable feeling of all.

“You may have a point,” William said quietly.

“You’ll notice that he didn’t say I was right,” she said to Dante, laughing.

“Thank you for your assistance with this matter,” he said with a nod.

“You’re not gonna wear that are you?” Kerry asked through a grimace.

“Of course.” He glanced down at his suit as he straightened the vest again. “Why do you ask?”

“I only met Layla briefly… but she didn’t strike me as an I-love-a-guy-in-a-suit kind of girl.” She cocked her head and looked at him intently. “You might want to try a pair of jeans and a sweater, or at least ditch the tie.”

William made a face of disapproval, and Dante nearly choked on the toast he was eating.

“That’ll be the day,” Dante said through a coughing fit.

“Fine.” Kerry held up her hands in defeat. “It was just a suggestion. Maybe I’m wrong, and your three-piece-suit lawyerly hotness will knock her socks off.”

“Thank you.” William bowed his head in deference. He turned his attention to Dante. “I can call on you and Malcolm if I’m in need of assistance? The Purists don’t seem to be aware of her existence, but I would be more comfortable approaching her if I knew I could count on you both… considering your experience,” he said with a glance to Kerry.

“You don’t even have to ask—consider it done,” Dante said as he and William shook hands over the table. “Have you told the prince that you found Layla?”

“No,” William said grimly. “I want to find out more about her before I approach Richard and the rest of the Council. She’s remained safe all of these years, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“But the prince told everyone that the
Purists
are the enemy,
not
the hybrids.” She looked from Dante to William. “Why keep Layla a secret? Even if it’s just for a little while longer?”

William thought for a moment, wanting to choose his words carefully. “Let’s just say that I suspect not all of the council members share Richard’s welcoming feelings about interbreeding with humans.”

“Are you sure?” Dante took Kerry’s hand and linked her fingers with his. “If there are Purists on the Council, there could be a shit-storm of epic proportions.”

“Let’s take things one step at a time. First, I have to convince a woman who hates me that I am her life mate.”

“You better find some patience and a sense of humor.” Kerry squinted, inspecting him closely. “You have any squirreled away under that nifty suit?”

“Thank you for your
help
as well, Mrs. Coltari.” He bowed regally and ignored her comment. “I’ll be taking my leave.”

“Anytime, Iceman,” she said with a wink.

William shot her a look of disapproval at the use of her nickname for him, uttered the ancient language, and vanished into the air.

Kerry smiled as he disappeared and murmured, “I bet a hundred bucks she gets him to ditch a lot more than that tie.”

Layla swung the old Jeep into the driveway of Rosie’s farm and instantly felt safer. The tension headache that had been eating at her since she left New Orleans began to ease, and she let out a long slow breath. The drive from New Orleans to Maryland had been relatively smooth but seemed to take forever. She desperately wanted—no—needed to be home, now more than ever.

The tires crunched along the winding dirt driveway as the old Jeep bounced along and rattled her around, but she barely felt it. A huge smile cracked her freckled face the moment that the old farmhouse came into view. It looked exactly the same as it had all those years ago, when she had first seen it.

Layla slowed the open-air Jeep to a halt at the bottom of the hill and pulled the hand brake. She grabbed the roll bar, stood in the seat, and closed her eyes. A gust of wind blew strands of long red hair off her face as she took a deep breath and reveled in the crisp, sweet, familiar scent of the farm. The cool fall air filled her nostrils and encapsulated each individual smell, allowing her to pinpoint every one. The sweet scent of the hay and the freshly mowed grass mixed with a hint of manure from the stables. The combination of the weather and the aroma instantly brought her back to the day she’d first arrived.

The first twelve years of her life had been spent being bounced from her mentally ill mother to various foster homes. She always tried to fit in, to keep her mouth shut, but sooner or later, she would let a secret slip. After that, it was only a matter of time before the foster parents asked that she be relocated. Layla grimaced. The last home she was placed in had been particularly unpleasant.

If it hadn’t been for an unexpected visit by a new social worker, she would likely have wound up dead. The horrid memories threatened to creep in and steal her serenity, but the wind brought a reprieve, and the familiar scent of Rosie’s apple pie. She smiled and opened her big green eyes to gaze upon the only place that had ever really been home.

Layla plopped her butt back into the beat-up leather seat, released the brake, and threw the Jeep into first gear. Woodbine farm was a safe haven for her, just as it had been for her foster brother and sister. No one and nothing could hurt her here. Not her mother, not the crazy people she photographed, and not her dream stalker.

The Jeep came to a shuddering stop in front of the house, and within seconds Rosie came lumbering through the screen door to greet her. Her salt-and-pepper braids hung all the way down to her waist, and the plaid shirt and overalls were stained from gardening. With arms wide open and a huge grin on her tanned face, Rosie practically flew down the stairs. Layla barely had time to get out of the car before Rosie tackled her in a welcome-home bear hug. Her big, soft form enveloped Layla’s much smaller one with minimal effort.

“Layla Nickelsen,” she bellowed into her ear and rocked her back and forth. “You are a sight for these old eyes.” She pulled back and eyed her at arm’s length. “What the hell have you been doing, girl? You are skin and bones! You’re swimmin’ in that damn jacket.”

Leave it to Rosie to point out the obvious. Suddenly self-conscious, Layla pulled the big cargo jacket closed. She had always been thin, but the sad fact was that lately she was downright skinny. Stress from the last job in New Orleans had really rattled her cage, and nightmares haunted her sleep every night since then. The combination of bad dreams and stress had killed her appetite.

She shrugged her slim shoulders. “Hey, I’ve been working like crazy. What can I tell ya?” Layla looked away quickly, and grabbed her duffel and camera bags out of the back of the Jeep. She couldn’t look Rosie in the eye and lie to her. Never could. Why would time have changed that? The hard truth was that she might be almost thirty years old, but around Rosie, she was always that little girl looking for a safe haven.

For the first time in a very long time, she was scared. Layla gritted her teeth and shut her eyes against the long-forgotten feeling. Years ago, she’d promised herself that she would never allow herself to be afraid again. Ever. Fear was a dangerous, weakening, and self-defeating feeling. Monsters could smell fear, and that’s how they picked their victims. Victims were weak, and she would never be a victim.

She was home, and she was safe.

Rosie took Layla’s now quivering chin in her hand and forced her to make eye contact. Those familiar warm, blue-gray eyes softened, and her voice dipped low. “You can’t lie to me, girl.”

Layla nodded almost imperceptibly as the tender sound of Rosie’s voice threatened to push her over the edge. She swallowed hard and fought the pathetic urge to cry. No tears. She hadn’t cried once since she’d arrived at Woodbine, and she wasn’t about to start now. No matter how freaked out she was, there would be no more tears.

“Everyone else may buy your tough-girl routine, but I know better.” Rosie gave her cheek a pat. “Now, why don’t you come on inside and get settled in your old room. We’ll talk about whatever is botherin’ you over some pie and coffee.”

She winked and wrapped her arm around Layla’s shoulders, which immediately loosened the knots in her stomach.

“Come on. Your brother should be back soon. You know that boy.” She sighed loudly and looked over her shoulder. “One whiff of my apple pie, and he comes runnin’. Too bad he don’t come runnin’ like that when it’s time to muck out the barn.” She chuckled.

Layla walked up the steps wrapped in the safe shelter of Rosie’s embrace. Even the familiar creak of the old steps helped to put her at ease. She threw a glance across the rolling fields, and her gaze slid to the barn looking for any sign of her brother Raife. The horses grazed lazily, and the chickens clucked loudly in the distance, but no sign of Raife. She smirked and shook her head. Raife loved the farm and had stayed on to run it, but what he really loved was to roam in the woods that surrounded it.

She and Raife’s twin sister Tatiana used to tease him relentlessly about it. Raife and Tatiana were Rosie’s niece and nephew and had been raised on the farm since they were babies. For all intents and purposes they were her siblings—blood or not, they were the only family she ever knew. Once Layla arrived at the farm, it didn’t take her long to realize that the universe had thrown them together for a reason. It turned out that they had a lot in common. They were all orphans, they were all damaged, and they were all hybrids.

***

That first forkful of cinnamon-spiced apples and buttery crust burst in Layla’s mouth with explosive sweetness. Eyes closed, she savored the comforting flavors and made a shamelessly loud, yummy noise of satisfaction. Rosie’s hearty laugh bounced through the country kitchen, and she clapped her hands. That rich, familiar sound warmed Layla’s spirit as much as the steaming coffee warmed her body.

She shrugged sheepishly and swallowed the mouthful of pie. “You still make the best apple pie on the planet, Rosie.” Layla sat back and wiped her mouth with the red-checkered napkin from her lap. “Believe me. I’ve tried apple pie in every single town I’ve been to, all over the world, and none of them hold a candle to yours,” she said, smiling.

Rosie nodded and stared at her through doubt-filled eyes. “That’s fine and dandy. But you and I both know that you didn’t come all the way home, after all this time… just to have my pie.”

She pulled out one of the wooden chairs, and the sound of it scraping on the floor brought back memories of various lectures Layla had gotten at this table. Most of them were for getting into fights at school. Tough Girl Talks—that’s what Rosie called them.

“He found me,” she whispered.

She snapped her mouth shut, as if she couldn’t really believe she’d said it out loud, because she’d barely been able to admit it to herself. The only thing that she had truly feared happening—had finally happened.

She drew in a shaky breath and forced herself to look Rosie in the eye. “My mate found me.”

Rosie didn’t flinch.

“Did you hear me?” Layla said quietly. “My mate found me.”

“I heard you just fine.” Rosie nodded and stirred her coffee. “I’m just wondering why you’re acting like someone just tinkled in your lemonade.”

“Rosie,” Layla asked with surprise. “How can you act like this is all okay?”

“Young lady, you are running away, and that’s not okay.” She sipped her coffee and made that tsking sound that instantly sent Layla back to her childhood. “I thought I taught you better than that.”

“You did,” she sputtered.

Guilt tugged at her because she’d never want Rosie to feel that somehow she was to blame for any of this. She looked down at the mug in her hands and bit her lip to keep from crying. She couldn’t add disappointing-the-woman-who-raised-me to her list of screw-ups.

Rosie read her like a book, as usual, and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“I spoke to you a few weeks ago, and you were about to start some modeling shoot in The Big Easy. Next thing I know, you’re hightailing it back here.” She served up another piece of pie onto Layla’s plate. “Now why don’t you quit running and start talking.”

“God, you’re right.” Layla laughed, rubbed at her tired eyes, and sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve been doing nothing but running away from him since he found me.” She shook her head at her own foolishness.

“Well, now.” She sighed heavily. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. The important thing is that you’re not running anymore.”

“He’s been trying to connect with me in the dream realm ever since New Orleans, and at first I tried ignoring him. I thought maybe, if I didn’t give him any attention, that he’d give up and go away. But no such luck.”

“I see.” Rosie made a sound of understanding. “What’s he like?”

“I don’t really know a whole hell of a lot.” She smiled at Rosie. “Except that he’s persistent.”

“Has he been cruel to you? Has he threatened you or been violent and tried to intimidate you into being with him?”

“No.” Layla shook her head adamantly. “Not at all. Nothing like that… I just…” she trailed off, uncertain how to verbalize her feelings. “He’s been… nice… cordial even. And bossy, extremely bossy.”

“Mmm-hmmm.” Rosie peered at her over the steaming mug of coffee. “Sounds like a real cad.”

“Rosie—” Layla laughed in spite of the situation and shook her head. “You’re oversimplifying it.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Or maybe you’re making it more complicated than it needs to be. He may be Amoveo, but he’s a man, too.” Her warm eyes twinkled brightly. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. Layla shifted in her seat and avoided Rosie’s probing gaze. He wasn’t just handsome. He was the sexiest man she’d ever encountered, and she hadn’t even seen him. “Well, I think he is. I haven’t seen him yet… exactly.”

“Girl,” Rosie said with exasperation. “You are writing him off before you even lay eyes on him? That just seems silly. You should at least find out if this fella can melt your butter.”

“Come on.” Layla chuckled. “That’s not all that important.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Rosie exclaimed. “If a man can’t flip your switch, then you’re just livin’ in a dark, dark world. Uncle Ernie may not have looked like much. God rest him,” she said, making the sign of the cross over her ample breasts. “But that man turned me on like no one I ever met, and we may have fought like hell, but the makin’ up made it all worthwhile.”

Layla’s face heated with embarrassment at the very idea of Rosie and her late Uncle Ernie knocking boots. She plugged her ears. “Okay, no more sex talk about you and Uncle Ernie, please.”

“Oh alright, now.” She tugged Layla’s hand out of her ear and held onto it. “What I’m telling you is that you can’t make any decisions until you have all of the information. I realize that you’re not keen on the idea of having some predestined husband or whatever, but you can’t run away from it. You have to face him and this whole thing head-on. Then you can make your choice.”

“I think that’s the part that really bothers me,” she said softly.

“Which part, darlin’?”

“I feel like I don’t have a choice. He’s going to drag me off like he owns me.”

“Hold on one damn minute.” Rosie leaned in and grabbed both hands. “You may be half Amoveo, but you’re half human too. Last time I checked God gave man free will.” She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “Our lives are the sum of the choices we make. Don’t let some legend determine your future. Don’t give anyone or anything that kind of power over you or your life.”

“You’re right.” Layla nodded firmly. “I’ll meet him face-to-face. Then I can tell him that I’m not interested in being dragged off and mated like a prize cow.”

“We’ll see.” Rosie chuckled. “You just never know what the future has in store. You know what they say, darlin’… While you make plans, God laughs.”

***

A brisk gust of wind whipped through the rust-colored leaves and fluttered over his white and brown speckled feathers, but William barely noticed it. The diminutive redhead with the big personality ruffled his feathers more than anything else ever could. He’d been searching for her for years to absolutely no avail, and then two weeks ago—boom—there she was. She appeared seemingly out of the blue, but his relief at finding her was quickly replaced with frustration and confusion. She baffled him because she
knew
. She knew what she was. She knew who
he
was, and she rejected him. He’d come to her every night in the dream realm since then, but each time she ran.

She feared him.

He shook his feathered head and adjusted his position on the thick branch. Frustration filled him, and his sharp talons dug into the rough bark because this was a far more complicated and messy situation than he’d planned on. William was used to getting what he wanted and getting it with minimal fuss. He’d been certain that once he found his mate, whoever she was, that things would fall into place.

Apparently not.

Perplexed, William remained perched on the thick branch of the oak tree and watched Layla through the kitchen window. In his clan form, as a gyrfalcon, his vision was incredibly acute, and at this particular moment he was very grateful for it. Even from this distance high up in the tree he could see her delicate form perfectly. She was tiny and couldn’t have been much more than five feet tall, and although she was petite, she most definitely was not weak. She radiated strength, and as he’d recently experienced, had a significant stubborn streak.