Wild (52 page)

Her mouth snapped closed so quickly, her teeth made a clapping sound. She looked at Channing and then away, gripping the coffee cup even tighter as she stared straight ahead.

“She was a prostitute,” Channing said simply. “Not you.”

“It doesn't matter,” Caroline said, shaking her head quickly. “Really it doesn't. I was just trying to understand you and Malec and all of you, I guess, a little better. But it's none of my business. None of this is.”

She'd turned around then and was ready to walk away when Channing grabbed her by the arm. “It does matter,” he said to her. “You matter to me.”

Caroline paused then, looking back at the way the slight breeze had ruffled his brown hair and at his long lashes flanking those gorgeous blue eyes. Her gaze fell to his long fingers wrapped around her arm, the light hold he had on her in an attempt to keep her there.

“You matter to me too, Channing,” she admitted. “I didn't want you to. I didn't want you at all. That sounds so harsh.” She shook her head.

Channing shrugged. “It's honest.”

“I don't know how to do this,” she told him. “Is this how it normally goes on the day after? You stay and take care of the small talk, while he runs and hides?”

“We've never had a day after,” Channing told her. “So this is kind of new to us too.”

“Yet you seem to know exactly what to do and say,” she added before stepping away from his grasp. “You're extremely versatile.”

Channing chuckled then. “You have no idea. Look, there are a lot of firsts going on here. He would hate that I'm telling you this, but you matter to Malec as well. I could tell that from the start.”

“Now that is funny,” she said, smiling but not laughing. “I matter so much to him that he couldn't wait to get out of that bedroom this morning, to get away from me.”

“He's never slept with a woman all night before. Not alone, and not with me. I told you this situation is bringing a lot of firsts for both of us,” Channing continued, his face serious, his eyes still warm, but unwavering.

“Then why hurry to leave? Doesn't it make more sense to confront the issues head-on? If you don't understand, you ask the question, talk, work it out,” she said because she was having a hard time understanding any of what was going on.

“It might be easier that way. Hell, it might even make a lot of sense for someone like you. But we're different, Caroline. Not just in the way we choose to have sex, but in a lot of ways that make our lives and how we handle matters more complicated. We've both been through a lot.”

Caroline shook her head, seeing this for exactly what it was. Channing wasn't just the one responsible for taking care of the women, he was the fixer. The charmer. He made everything better, all the time giving Malec the perfect excuse to be who he was without any recriminations.

“No,” Caroline said to him. “You're not that much different from anyone else. I've been through things too.”

“And you've figured out a way to deal with them. You find your own pleasure so you won't be mistaken for a promiscuous woman or a woman of your mother's profession. You deny your inner yearnings to please people that don't really give a rat's ass about you in the first place. So you're right, Caroline. We're not that much different at all.”

She didn't know what to say to that. He'd summed up her life so quickly and so succinctly he'd actually left her speechless.

“I'm sorry,” he said after a few moments of silence. “I didn't mean to be so crude. I'm just trying to make you see how alike the three of us really are and why that's probably the reason we felt so drawn to each other so quickly.”

Caroline shook her head, not ready to hear any more that Channing had to say, for fear that he may be right again.

“It's okay, Channing. You don't have to apologize. You see, even though my mother was a reprehensible person and parent, according to those who judged her solely by her occupation, she taught me a hell of a lot about life and about people. So much so that I know that there are no excuses. People are responsible for who and what they are, no matter what happened to make them that way. You may be correct—the three of us are probably a lot alike. We've most likely each had a difficult time, and we've figured out how to deal with it, but you and I don't hurt other people because of it.” Or at least Caroline didn't think Channing was like that.

“Malec, on the other hand, is totally responsible for the way he chooses to act. And me, well, I'm just not the type to sit back and keep allowing people to treat me in less than a way I deserve. I like you a lot,” she told him. “Much more than I thought I could. But I can't stay here another second. It's just that simple for me.”

Channing stood there staring at her. He slipped his hands into his pockets slowly.

“If you knew everything, you would feel differently,” he said.

“I doubt it,” she told him. “I think I know as much as I want to. Look, I wanted both of you last night. At first I didn't think I should, but I did and I don't regret it. I enjoyed every minute of it, so thank you for that at least,” she said before turning to walk away.

As Caroline moved she wondered how she'd been able to say those words. Had she enjoyed last night? Had she really enjoyed being treated like, for short of a better term, a piece of ass? Hadn't she vowed after Brent that her next intimate experience would be with something she saw a future with, someone who could love her as deeply as she wanted to be loved?

Yes, she'd messed up again. But this time, she was owning her mistake and moving on before she could make it any worse. She was going back to her apartment for a shower and a change into her own clothes, and then she was going to work, to get back to the life she'd planned when she'd first come to Blackbriar.

*   *   *

“You can't run from it, Malec,” Kira said from the chair she sat in on the front porch. “No matter how hard you try you can't run from it. Believe me, I tried. Remember?”

Running up onto the porch, Malec paused to look at Kira. She wore black shorts today, her top with brightly colored stripes. She looked fresh and pretty and confident. When she'd first come to this house she'd looked angry, determined, afraid. All that had changed in the course of only two months. Such a short time for two people to meet, to fall in love, and to commit to each other forever. Except that those two people were lycans, and with them, he figured, anything could happen.

Unfortunately, Caroline was not a lycan.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied, rubbing a hand down his face.

“She's your mate,” Kira said simply, uncrossing her legs and standing. “Yours and Channing's.”

Malec simply stood staring at the alpha female. His first inclination was to vehemently deny what she'd said. The eerie twist in his gut kept him from doing that. Instead, he shook his head.

“First, what type of woman do you think is actually going to agree to a ménage relationship for the rest of her life? And second, before you attempt to tell me, let me remind you that she is not a lycan. She's not a shifter of any kind or any other type of being that we're used to dealing with. She's a human, and they have definite ideas about how to live their lives.”

She tilted her head. “Do you think there are no humans living in ménage relationships? Because if you do, then you're sadly mistaken. When I was in college there was a group called Swingtime. The first time I visited I was naïve enough to believe they were a group of ballroom dancers attempting to reenact that famous old black-and-white movie with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.” She laughed at herself. “Whew, did I get a surprise. Those couples were licking and sucking and doing any and everything they could get into. On the couch, the floor, the pool table. I had to run, stepping over naked bodies, to get out of there. Later that night I laughed at myself because they weren't doing anything I hadn't seen the members of Penn's pack doing on too many occasions to count.”

“It's not the same,” he told her.

“No,” she replied, sobering quickly. “It's not. Because Caroline Douglas is not one of the women that you and Channing are used to sharing and forgetting. She's not a lycan that understands our sexual appetites and could easily move on to the next one, because you know what? Those females knew exactly what I'm trying to tell you now. They knew that neither you nor Channing was their mate. And since you two weren't alphas they also knew it wasn't worth trying to convince you to claim them anyway.”

Malec did not want to hear this. Bringing his hands to his hips kept him from flexing his fingers, feeling the sting of the tips where his lycan nails wanted to lengthen. He held firm to the shift that wanted to break free because it was pissed as hell. Not with the alpha female, but with himself. Always with himself.

“It doesn't matter,” he told Kira. “None of what you're saying matters because this is not what she wants or deserves in her life.”

“Oh really?” Kira said, folding her arms over her chest. “Tell me what Caroline deserves, since you think you know so much.”

Did he forget to say cocky? Kira, the lycan with the gift of vision, wanted him to tell her how he knew something that she didn't.

“She deserves a man who can love her and treat her right. A man who can walk around with her, take her out on dates, give her children, be her partner, and be honest with her, dammit!” he told her, still straining to keep his voice level.

“Oh, and she doesn't deserve to have two men who can give her those very things? Because you and Channing are both ugly abominations that can't be seen in the light of day, for fear of people turning to stone on the street.”

“Stop it,” he said through clenched teeth. “Just stop because you know exactly what I'm talking about. You know why this can't work.”

“No,” she said, stepping closer into his face. “I won't stop. You want to know why? Because what I know is that the three of you belong together. I know that there is so much more you have in here.” She tapped a finger to the side of his head. “And even more in here.” She flattened her palm over his chest, right above his heart. “You've just got to stop punishing yourself for something you couldn't have predicted or stopped. Mason had his own path, and you have yours.”

“I said stop,” Malec told her once more.

Kira nodded. “You did. And I will, for now. You have enough to think about especially since Phelan found footprints outside your bedroom window.”

“What?” Malec did yell this time, taking a step back from Kira.

“He's been back there with Blaez and Channing for the last half hour. After they saw Caroline off safely, Phelan picked up a scent, and he decided to walk the perimeter. I'm surprised you didn't hear his howl the moment he found the prints. The rest of us did. Phelan and Blaez checked the monitors to see why the sensor alarm hadn't gone off and realized it had been disengaged.”

“Wait a minute,” Malec said, trying to wrap his head around what he'd just been told. “What the hell are you saying?”

“She's saying the Solo was here,” Blaez said, stepping out onto the porch. “Caroline showed us the notes he'd left for her at the clinic, directing her to come out here. He must have already been waiting for her to arrive. When we thought it was simply her setting off the sensors he probably heard the alarm too and managed to get close enough to disengage the wires we saw ripped out on the back wall.”

“So that sonofabitch was here all last night, just walking around the house like some supernatural Peeping Tom and none of us knew a damned thing! How the hell does that happen? What about our other security measures? Wait a minute. Did you say that Caroline was gone?” Malec asked, his gut tightening as he said the words.

Kira looked to Blaez, who set his lips firmly. “Yes. She went back into town.”

Malec took off running into the house. He busted through the door of his room and grabbed the keys off his nightstand. He was heading out the front door again, the others in his pack standing to the side, not attempting to stop him. They all knew where he was going, and as he climbed behind the wheel of his car, they all probably had a good idea of what he was going to do when he got there.

 

CHAPTER 11

She was getting a headache. Tiny spikes of pin-prickling pain had taunted her throughout the ride back into town. Where before she'd enjoyed the scenery, the tall, formidable trees, the way the sunlight pierced between them, whispering at something possibly more beautiful to come, this morning she hated it all.

There was no brightness to this morning even though Caroline was sure there should be. She'd always prided herself on having an optimistic outlook, even when the doctor had told her how sick Max really was. Caroline had continued to smile each morning as she brought her mother breakfast. She was in high school then, a sophomore writing on the school newspaper because the cheerleaders and pep squad had already dismissed her the year before. Still Caroline thought she was happy as she ever would be, all things considered. She'd even started each day with the same thought.

Today is a new day.

“Remember, CeeCee,” Max would say when Caroline was dressed for school and she'd returned to her mother's room to retrieve her emptied tray of food. “Today is a new day, full of fresh starts and new beginnings. You make the best of it, you hear me? Make the best of every new day you're given.”

Caroline would smile and say, “Yes, Mommy,” before leaning over to kiss her mother's prematurely weathered cheek.

That was their morning ritual, until the day Maxine Douglas died. After that, Caroline had looked in the bathroom mirror and recited to herself, “Remember, CeeCee, today is a new day, full of fresh starts and new beginnings. You make the best of it, you hear?”