CHAPTER 19
Naomi stepped out of the shower that next morning, feeling different in so many ways—stronger, more rested, every fiber of her being thrumming with the reminder of Asher’s incredible passion last night.
And his bite.
She moaned just thinking about how good it felt to have his mouth on her like that, his fangs piercing the pliant flesh of her neck. Now that she knew what it was to give herself over to his hunger, a deeper craving had begun to take shape within her too.
She wanted to taste him.
She wanted to drink from his vein and feel the same kind of bond to him that he had described after taking his fill from her.
She wanted to feel his bond.
It terrified her how much she wanted that, even knowing there would be no coming back from it. A future with Asher. As his blood-bonded mate.
His Breedmate.
Wrapping a towel around her, she stepped in front of the bathroom mirror and peered at her reflection. She tilted her head, and for the first time in her life she studied the small red symbol under her chin with something other than annoyance or resentment. She’d spent twenty-six years trying to pretend the teardrop-and-crescent-moon stamp on her skin was nothing more than a birthmark, something to be ignored. Now, she couldn’t see it without thinking about Asher and the incredible, passionate world that had opened up to her since he came into her life.
She smoothed her fingers over the vein that pulsed just below her ear, unable to contain the broad smile that spread over her face.
She loved him.
He hadn’t said the words back to her precisely, but he’d said other things. Tender things. Possessive things. And all the while his molten gaze had scorched her with its intensity, and its raw honesty.
God, she had it bad for him.
More and more since she’d met Asher, she had been allowing herself to imagine shiny places in her future, places that had plenty of room for the kids and Michael, yet always with Asher at the center. It astonished her to realize how deeply she longed for those things, and that the other driving force in her life—vengeance on Leo Slater—had begun to take a backseat to this other one. Hope.
“You are a love-struck fool,” she told her giddy reflection, but not even that dimmed the happy look on her face.
She shook her head and finished drying off, then hurried to get dressed so she could go find Asher and maybe persuade him to help her out of her clothes again after she made some tea and found something to eat.
She was finger-combing her damp hair when her phone trilled with an incoming call. She retrieved it from the top of the bureau and frowned at the private caller message shown on the display.
There weren’t a lot of people who had her number; Michael and the kids, primarily. Instantly her thoughts careened toward Slater, but she couldn’t imagine any way he’d know how to reach her. Still, her finger hesitated for a moment over the screen before she decided to answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” a female voice replied. “Naomi, this is Sheila, from Dr. Davis’s office.”
“Oh. Sure, of course.” Naomi let go of her pent-up breath when she realized it was only the medical assistant at the low-cost clinic where they brought the kids. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, everything’s fine. We, ah, we have Tyler here for his asthma check-up today.”
“Okay.” Naomi vaguely recalled the appointment, but usually it was Michael who kept track of those things and made sure everyone got where they were supposed to be. “Is there something I can do for you, Sheila?”
“Well, I was just wondering . . . Tyler’s been waiting for someone to come pick him up for over an hour, so I didn’t know if you—”
“Wait a second,” Naomi blurted. “Didn’t Michael bring him to the appointment?”
“Yes, he did. But Tyler tells me Michael dropped him off and was going to take care of some banking and run a couple of errands before he came back to pick him up. Like I said, it’s been quite a while since we finished with Tyler and the poor little guy’s getting a bit anxious for someone to come and get him.”
“I can imagine,” Naomi murmured, a niggling sense of unease creeping over her. “Have you tried to reach Michael?”
“Yes. We’ve called him several times, but his phone goes straight to voice mail.”
“Okay.” Naomi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, I’ll try him too. I’m not in the city right now, but I can get there in about an hour. Can Tyler wait there for a while longer?”
“He’s welcome to stay as long as needed,” the assistant said. “I’m sure he’ll be relieved to hear that we were able to get a hold of someone.”
“Of course. Please, tell him not to worry.”
As she ended the call, Asher appeared in the open doorway of the bedroom. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe nothing.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t feel like nothing to me.”
She knew what he was referring to—the blood bond that had evidently alerted him to the concern that was forming into a cold ball in her stomach. “One of the boys, Tyler, is waiting at the medical clinic in the city for Michael to pick him up. He’s been sitting there for more than an hour.”
Asher frowned. “It doesn’t seem like Michael to leave a kid stranded like that.”
“No. It doesn’t. He told Tyler he had some banking to take care of and run some errands.” She tapped Michael’s number on her phone and shook her head when the call went directly to messages. “Asher, I need to use the truck.”
A dark look came over his features. “Not a good idea, Naomi. Not when I can’t be there with you. I don’t like it.”
She strode up to him and pressed her palm to the side of his tense jaw. “I know you don’t, but I can’t leave that little boy waiting all alone. He’s been abandoned by people he’s trusted all of his short life. I’m not going to be one of them.”
She didn’t need the benefit of a blood bond to know that Asher was two seconds from refusing. Not that he had much choice. The truck was his, but she knew he couldn’t deny her the use of it when it came to one of the kids.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” she promised him. “Michael gets distracted sometimes. He’s probably trying to do ten things at once and will fly into the clinic parking lot around the same time I get there. Anyway, it’s not like it’s the middle of the night—”
“No,” Asher muttered. “It’s the middle of the morning, when I can’t spend more than ten minutes outside these four walls without incinerating.”
“I’ll be fine.” She went up on her toes and kissed him, holding his dubious gaze. “I’ll call you along the way, and as soon as I hear from Michael and make sure Tyler’s home safe I’ll come right back home.”
The light in his eyes changed as she said that word, home. His stern face softened, if only marginally. He speared his fingers into her hair and brought her back to his mouth and kissed her, unrushed and deep. “You call as soon as you reach the city.”
“I will.”
She gathered her phone and the keys to the old Chevy and raced out the door.
Several times on the hour-long drive up to Vegas she called Michael’s phone but only got his voice mail. Each unanswered call made her concern grow colder, edging toward real worry that something had gone wrong with the payment from Moda.
Or, worse, that Michael ran into trouble.
There was no sign of his van in the clinic parking lot when she pulled in. Once inside, she was greeted by a distressed Tyler, slumped into one of the waiting room chairs with tears streaking down his freckled cheeks.
“Hey, buddy,” she said, hurrying over to him and hunkering down in front of him to ruffle his shock of red hair. “I’m sorry you had to wait so long. You okay?”
His sweet little face was pinched, nose swollen from crying. “Where’s Michael?”
“He probably got stuck somewhere running errands. I’m not sure, but we’ll find him.”
Tyler frowned. “I thought you guys forgot about me.”
“Never,” she assured him earnestly, shaking her head. “Never, ever. You hear me?”
He nodded stiffly and she took his hand as he got to his feet. With a wave to Sheila behind the glass reception window, she collected her sniffling charge and escorted him out to the nearly empty parking lot.
“Isn’t this Asher’s truck?” Tyler asked as she helped him into the passenger side.
“Yes, it is.”
“Where is he?”
“Back at the ranch, sweetie. He wanted to come with me to get you, but he had to stay inside.”
“Because he’s Breed, right?”
She nodded, struck by how easily the boy had accepted Asher as a part of their makeshift tribe. Seeing everyone together at Michael’s house had given her a glimpse of what a true family felt like. Her family—the one she hadn’t been born into, but wanted desperately to have for the rest of her life.
She stroked her hand over the little boy’s head. “Buckle in, okay? Let’s get you home now.”
As discreetly as she could, she tried Michael’s number again as she got settled behind the wheel. No luck.
Dammit, where was he?
She took another second to check in with Asher, careful to keep the concern out of her voice so that Tyler didn’t detect the panic that was beginning to slither through her veins. But Asher knew. His voice was gentle and reassuring, telling her he’d checked the news for reports of accidents and traffic problems, but found no cause for worry.
“Thanks,” she murmured. “I’ll call you when I get to the house.”
For the duration of the drive to the other side of town, she kept Tyler occupied with questions about school and homework and what he might want for dinner. They fell into a familiar, easy chatter until they rounded the corner onto the street leading to Michael’s house.
And then Naomi’s heart clenched behind her sternum.
Michael’s van was parked in the driveway. Which on any other day might seem normal, but at this moment felt very, very wrong.
“What the heck?” Tyler blurted, sending her a confused look. “You mean he’s been home the whole time?”
“I don’t know, honey.” Naomi parked beside the vehicle, unable to shake the bone-deep chill that was spreading over her. “Why don’t you stay out here and let me go talk to him first, okay?”
To her relief, the boy didn’t argue. Naomi climbed out of the truck and let the rusted door close behind her with a groan.
As she entered through the unlocked front door, she dimly remembered that she had promised to call Asher when she arrived. But her feet were moving of their own accord, carrying her inside the quiet house. God, it was too quiet by far.
“Hello? Michael? Anyone home?”
It wasn’t unusual for the kids to be scattered and off doing their own thing during the day. There was school for some, while others were either too young or too rebellious to attend with the kind of regularity they needed. Part of the deal with the kids who filtered in and out of their house was that they stayed only because they wanted to. To most that meant having someplace to go when night fell or when the desert got too cold, or too hot, to survive long outside. Letting them have their freedom was part of that equation, no matter how hard it was for Michael and her to adhere to the agreement sometimes.
Right now, Naomi couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to hear a herd of young teens and other kids come tearing through the house, preferably with Michael rolling right behind them, or summoning them all into the kitchen for a meal.
Anything but the tomblike quiet that surrounded her as she stepped farther inside.
“Michael?”
She drifted toward the bedroom at the end of the hallway. The door was partially open—only wide enough for her to see his empty wheelchair just inside.
“Michael . . .”
Her steps slowed as she approached, her mind reluctant to process what every instinct in her body was trying to tell her. Something bad had happened. Something horrific.
She entered the room and glanced toward the floor next to his bed. His legs were sticking out at an odd angle as if he’d fallen out of his chair and into the open closet. Then she saw his blue, lifeless face . . . and the taut leather belt fastened tightly around his neck.
Her heart plummeted.
No. Oh God, no.
She stumbled back a step.
And she screamed.