Chapter Four

 

Carlos

 

I wake in my bedroom. The scent of Sedona is still in my nostrils and I reach for her, but my arms come up empty. The memory of seeing her last returns and I bolt upright with a gasp.

Sedona. Where is my female? The urgency to find her, protect her, nearly makes me shift. If those motherfuckers laid one finger on my female, I will rip them to shreds. I don’t care if I’m banished forever from this pack. Even if it means leaving my poor mother. I will not stand by and let my female be mistreated.

I surge from the bed and throw on a pair of pajama pants before pounding toward the door. A light but rapid tap sounds on it. The door pushes open before I can say pásale.

Juanito bursts in. “Don Carlos, It’s your mother. She’s having a fit. Come quickly.”

Screams reach my ears.

“Déjame!” my mother’s raw voice echoes in the center courtyard. Leave me. Sedona’s fading scent clings to me as I run out and look down into my mother’s garden, the center courtyard the hacienda is built around. Mamá paces alone, her skirts aflutter. The servants huddle at the edges of the garden. She turns in a circle, long grey hair flying. Sweat drips down her face, her eyes are wild.

“Mamá!” I run for the marble stairs and take them two at a time.

My mother doesn’t seem to even hear me. She’s babbling something, as if arguing with demons or ghosts. She tears at her nightdress. “Déjame sola!”

“Mamá!” I reach her and grip her arms, trying to get her wild focus to settle on my face. I don't succeed. She pulls to get away from me. Tears streak her face, once lovely, now sallow with dark circles under her eyes.

I could overpower her, of course, but I can’t bring myself to manhandle my mother. "Mamá, it's all a dream. None of it is real. Look at me. Your son. Look at Carlos."

"Carlos?" Her voice rings with panic. "Where's Carlitos? What have they done with my little boy? They want to kill him, too."

"No, Mamá, I'm right here—Carlos—Carlitos—all grown up. Look at me."

Her unsteady gaze wavers around the courtyard and skips around my face. She reaches out to touch it, her brow wrinkling. "Carlos?"

"Si, Mamá, I'm right here."

She grabs my hand and tries to pull me further into the center of the garden. "Hurry, Carlos. We have to run. Before they get you, too. Every alpha is in danger."

I don't move, forcing her to shift her grip to two hands and tug with all her might. "No, I'm not in danger. I can defend myself. And you. We're safe, I promise. Come—this way." I wrap my palm around hers. "Let's go to your room."

Her eyes widen. "My prison, you mean?" She shakes her head wildly. "That's where they want to keep me quiet. I don't want to go there. I want to leave, Carlos. Take me away from this place."

Pain rips through my chest. Should I find a way to send her back to her own pack? She still hates it here after all these years. But would they even take her? A crazy woman who requires full-time care? Would they provide the level of treatment she requires? I’ve never met anyone from Mamá’s old pack, or any pack other than my own. I feel the wrongness of that deep into my bones. I should've done it when my father died. Not ten years later. My head aches with the weight of my guilt, my responsibility.

"Okay, I'll take you away from here," I promise, praying I can keep my word. "But I need time to figure out where and how. So let's get you back to your bedroom—"

"Not my bedroom!" she shrieks. "Not there! Don't take me there, Carlos." She's suddenly weeping, like she's the child and I'm the parent.

I pull her against my chest and stroke her tangled hair. "Okay, not your bedroom," I agree. I look around desperately, trying to figure out what else to do with her. "How about a walk in the outer garden with Maria Jose?" I make eye contact with Juanito's mother, Mamá’s servant, and nod.

Maria Jose approaches slowly.

My mother sniffs and pulls away, nodding. "Sí."

My shoulders sag. I tug her hand in Maria Jose's direction. "Maria will keep you safe, Mamá. I'll see you after your walk, all right? I'll see you for breakfast."

After I find Sedona.

My mother toddles away on Maria Jose's arm, but Juanito scuttles over to me. "Don Carlos," he says in a low, urgent tone. He looks around like he's afraid of being seen, and I have no doubt someone is watching, somewhere.

I grip his arm and tug him into the shadows. "Qué cosa?"

"The Americans are here to rescue your female. El consejo—"

The bell in the bell tower starts to toll, signaling the pack of danger. Don Santiago enters. Something about the timing of his appearance seems deliberate. "There you are." His voice is smooth as caramel. "We have a problem. Three large vans breached the outer gate. Prepare to fight for your female."

Ice flushes through my veins as I see their plan. They're banking on my strength to fend off these enemies they brought onto our pack. My mind races. I don’t even know where my female is, and I’m sure as hell not going to fight her family for her. That will not inure the beautiful American to me. With a calmness I don’t feel, I squeeze Juanito’s shoulder. “Run and grab me a shirt, Juanito. I’ll be right behind you.” I turn to Jose. “Gather the males of the pack and tell them to meet on the terrace.” I infuse alpha authority into my voice, even though I know full well my orders mean nothing to this man. The council has been running me now for years. I run up the stairs and meet Juanito at the top, carrying my shirt. I grab it from him and pull it on as I murmur in a low voice. “Where is my female, Juanito?”

“Locked in a guest room in the east wing, Don Carlos.”

“Can you find a way to set her free?”

“I-I don’t know, sir.” Juanito is a smart kid, I know he’ll figure it out.

“I need you to try. Let her out and take her out to her people through the lower gate. Don’t let anyone see you. The future of this pack depends on you, my friend.”

Juanito’s lowered eyes jerk up to mine and I watch honor fill his being. “Yes, sir.” He slips away, quiet and invisible as a ghost.

I head out to the terrace, where the men of our pack are gathering, in from the mines and the fields, watching the white vans wind up the mountain toward the citadel. “We will defend our pack, if necessary, but there will be no violence without a cue from me, understood?” I use every bit of alpha power in my voice, making it boom and project confidence, leadership. The trouble is, these males have never fought with me before, never taken my orders.

Most of them are old. The only younger male shifter in the pack besides myself was Juanito’s brother, Mauca, but he disappeared last year. Ran away, is what they said, but I know Juanito and Maria Jose don’t believe that. There aren’t many other male shifters under the age of fifty, except the defectuosos. They are here, though, armed with machetes, ready to fight as men.

Guillermo, the big wolf who runs the mines is here, along with his men. I can count on them to defend the pack, if it comes to that.

Don Santiago and the rest of the council are here, but they are not preparing to fight. No, they are setting up as if to watch a football match. Granted, they are all over seventy, but shifters live long lives and heal quickly. I think they play the privilege card and the elderly card far too often. As I look at their self-satisfied faces, I want to beat the righteousness out of every one of them.

And what better diversion? Especially with an audience. It’s time to establish exactly who is alpha in this pack. A growl rips from my throat as I stalk over. I grab the first one I get to—Don Mateo—and grasp him by the throat. My fingers wrap right around his chicken neck and I lift him from the ground. “You brought this attack on our pack,” I roar. “You and the rest of the council.”

“Put him down,” Don Jose snarls. He uses his usual superior command, but it falls flat in the face of alpha rage. He turns to the pack. “The boy has inherited some of his mother’s lunacy.”

Oh, fuck no. Of course they’d try that tactic. Make me look insane.

I look around at the council. They might treat me like a treasured pup, but these aren’t the grandfatherly men who raised me. These are powerful wolves. “You purchased a female—an American—stolen from her pack by traffickers. What did you think would happen?”

Don Santiago goes for a smug, unruffled tone. “We thought you would claim her, and we were correct.”

Don Mateo’s face turns red as he struggles to drag in gurgling breaths. His feet kick out uselessly. The men of the pack move in close, crowding around us, but no one—including the other elders—physically challenges me. Together, they could take me down, but not without a lot of bloodshed.

“You locked me in my own dungeon. Disrespected your alpha. Do you think that deed will go unpunished?”

Mateo’s eyes bulge. If I don’t release him soon, he’ll die.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Guillermo step forward. The burly wolf isn’t high in the pack, but with his miners behind him, they could overpower me. If the council gave the order, I could be dead, and my mother with me. I’m surrounded by the pack I’m supposed to lead, and I don’t know who I can trust.

“Tranquilo, Carlos. It was not out of disrespect, but out of love. We provided you with a prize worthy of an alpha like you,” Don Santiago placates.

I drop Mateo not because I’m playing good little alpha for the council, but as much as I’d like to kill him and all the dons, I’m not a murderer. Whirling to face Don Santiago, I let out a ferocious growl. Every wolf around me drops his eyes and shows his throat in submission.

Better.

“Now you disrespect my female. She is not an object, but an alpha she-wolf, capable of tearing out any one of your throats. If any of you ever touch or confine her against her will again, you’re dead. Comprendes?”

“Sí, Don Carlos.” The males of the pack mutter the answer automatically. I’m not sure I hear it from the lips of the elders, but they nod their heads as if in agreement. Lying fuck-toads.

This isn’t finished. Even though I’ve heard what I demanded to hear, I’m not even close to satisfied. “I will consider your punishment,” I growl.

Yeah, I don’t know how that will go down. Will I have the ability to enforce a punishment on council members? I don’t have a fucking clue, but I sure as hell know I’m not going to let them off easy in front of my pack.

Behind me, the pack members shift in discomfort. They are either more loyal to, or more afraid of the council. I get that. I’ve only been back a few weeks. They don’t know me, and it will take time for me to prove myself as a leader. But I certainly intend to do that.

“Later.” Don Santiago points down at the road outside the walls surrounding our citadel. “The Americans have arrived.” The three white vans pull up outside the front portcullis and stop. Their doors open and dozens of muscled wolves pour out, young males in their prime, arms covered in tattoos, weapons in their hands.

 

~.~

 

Sedona

 

The boy who let me out of the bedroom where I was locked beckons me forward. We’re outside the palace or castle—or whatever they call this building. It’s certainly regal enough to be a castle. In fact, we’re heading along the same path the men carried my cage on when I arrived. Above us, looms the gleaming building, below us but still within the walls of the enclave are little huts with thatched roofs.

I woke up alone in a canopied bed dressed in a ridiculous flowing robe, like some medieval princess. Fitting as I was locked in a tower. This place is seriously stuck in the seventeenth century.

I tried the door, but it was locked. Pounding on it got me nowhere. Neither did calling for Carlos, but then the boy showed up, put his finger to his lips to silence me and rushed me out of the building.

Now that we’re outside, he speaks to me in Spanish, but I don’t have a clue what he’s saying.

“Juanito?” I ask. “Are you Juanito?”

He stops and turns, and his serious face splits into a grin. “Sí, soy Juanito.” He bobs his head, as if I just did him some great honor by knowing his name. He rattles off something else, but all I catch is “Carlos.”

“Where is Carlos?” I ask. I’m more than a little disappointed to be rescued by the boy instead of the male who marked me last night. It’s stupid, but I feel abandoned. I need to see him. We need to talk about the fact that he marked me, and what it means.

But I guess escaping the crazy council should be the first order of business. Juanito pulls a keycard from a cord around his neck and flashes it against a surprisingly high-tech lock on a gate in the polished adobe wall.

Outside, I hear... English voices.

I surge forward, running toward the sound, and I recognize males from both my brother and father’s packs piling out of three white bus-sized super-vans parked outside a giant portcullis. I have no idea how they found me, but relief nearly drowns me.

My brother senses me coming and whirls. “Sedona?”

I’m sure I look ridiculous in the flowing robe. Tears sting my eyes. I fly at him, wrapping my arms and legs around him. The force of my hug drives my huge big brother to take a step back.

As soon as Garrett’s arms close around me, I know everything’s going to be all right. He’s bigger and stronger than any of the fuckers who took me captive. The only exception might be Carlos, but I can’t think about him right now.

“It’s okay,” Garrett murmurs. I press my face into his shoulder, clutching him. His muscles flex around me, big, protective. “No one’s gonna hurt you. Never again.”

“Sedona,” a deep voice makes me raise my head. My dad stands beside us, lips pressed tight together—a look I’m all too familiar with. For once I’m glad to see it.

“Dad.” I turn to him and give him a heartfelt, if stiffer hug. It’s only when I draw back and study the deep lines etched on my father’s brow that I realize his stern look isn’t one of disapproval. It’s worry—and now deep relief.

“I’m sorry,” my voice cracks.

“It’s all right,” Garrett soothes, at the same time my father says, “We’ll talk about it later.”

I lean into my big brother’s side, unable to look my father in the eyes. Garrett gives me a squeeze—another signal I’m familiar with from the times I’ve gotten in trouble. You and me, sis. Dad’s gonna be a hardass, but we’ll get through it—together. Even though he’s eight years older, and as alpha and protective as our dad, Garrett has always stuck by me.

I don’t think my big brother can fix this. We’re in some godforsaken mountain in Mexico, facing off with an unfamiliar pack, deep in hostile territory. My dad might be dealing with the political ramifications of this for the next thirty years.

It’s my fault. I’m the alpha’s daughter. It’s my responsibility to follow the rules—for the good of the pack. Me and my stupid idea to live it up on spring break.

“How do we get in? I’m going to kill every last motherfucking—” Garrett’s cracking his knuckles when I cut in.

“No.” I still don’t know what in the hell is going on here. Carlos must have sent Juanito to set me free. But where is Carlos? I look back where Juanito stands, looking uncertain. Is Carlos coming? He can’t. My heart fills with lead. If he did, my father and Garrett would kill him. No, I need to get out of here before any wolves—on either side—get hurt. I couldn’t stand having blood on my head. “Take me out of here. I don’t want a fight. I just want to go home. Let’s go.”

My dad shakes his head. “No one steals my daughter and lives.”

“They didn’t steal me, they bought me. You’re welcome to kill the fuckers who stole me, but they’re not here. I just want to leave. No bloodshed. Please.” I catch Garrett’s eye and hold his gaze, silently pleading.

He grabs my dad’s arm and they walk around the back of the van to confer in private.

Of course, because I have shifter hearing, I don’t miss any of the conversation.

“Dad, don’t you think Sedona’s been through enough? She’s been mated.”

My eyes fill with tears. Hunching, I cover the already healed wound on my shoulder. In a few days it would be nothing more than a slight scar, but I will carry Carlos’ scent, a trace of his essence, with me until I die.

Garrett continues in a low voice, “She might have conflicted feelings toward the guy. The last thing she needs is more trauma. If she says no bloodshed here, I think we have to honor her wishes.”

“We don’t kill them and we send the message we’re weak.”

They argue some more, but when they come back around, my father clips, “Everyone back in the vehicles.”

Garrett shoos me into his van and climbs in the back seat beside me, throwing his strong arm around my shoulders.

As the van takes off down the mountain, I try to pull it together, but my emotions are all over the place. I hate being the victim, rescued by the males in her family. It’s pathetic and I know if I dip into that, even for a second, I could tumble into a pool of self-pity so deep I could let this experience scar me for the rest of my life.

Poor Sedona, they would whisper about me. She’s never been the same since her abduction and rape.

Fuck that. I was a victim, yes. But it wasn’t rape. I begged him for it. And I’m not weak, I’m an alpha female. I can turn this into a win, not a loss.

But what did I win?

I had my V-card punched, in the most incredible, satisfying way. It’s hard to imagine it gets much better than what we shared. But I also walked away marked. I’m not even sure of the ramifications of carrying a male’s scent when I didn’t choose him as a mate.

Carlos let me go.

Fates, thinking of him sends a searing pain right through the middle of my chest. Will I ever see him again? Do I want to? It’s a fucked up kind of complicated, isn’t it?

I still don’t even know if he was as innocent in my imprisonment as he insisted. What if he orchestrated the whole damn thing?

But no, why let me go, then? And I’m sure it was Carlos who sent Juanito to shuttle me out to my family. Whether it was to save his own pack or for my benefit, I can’t be sure. Because I know one thing—my family’s packs would have brought it.

So logically, it seems like I should count Carlos releasing me as a win. Why, then, does it seem like my heart is beating outside my chest? Like it stayed back on that mountain and the further we drive away, the more anxious I become at leaving it behind?

But please. Did I want him to claim me? To keep me?

Fuck no.

I would never stay on that godforsaken mountain with that crazy pack. They’re the most backwards, insane bunch I’ve ever seen, and my father has hosted a lot of pack mingles over the years.

Even if they were the most charming wolves on Earth, I wouldn’t want to stay. I’m twenty-one years old. I haven’t even finished college. I only just started having fun. Fates, my spring break vacation in San Carlos seems so long ago. So far away. What did my friends think when I disappeared from the beach?

“How did you find me?” I ask Garrett, speaking for the first time in what must have been a couple hours. I applaud him for not grilling me the whole way, but Garrett is perceptive. I’m glad I didn’t ride in my father’s van.

“My mate found you.”

Wait... what? Garrett doesn’t have a mate. He’s been playing Mr. Bachelor for years with his pack of young males. “Your mate?”

Garrett touches my fresh mark. “Looks like we both mated this moon.”

Garrett sounds so happy. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess his mating was nothing like mine. He wasn’t locked naked in a room with her and forced to mate. He chose a female. The way I always thought I’d get to choose a mate.

And now I’m wallowing in self-pity—the swamp I didn’t want to swim in. “Tell me about her?” I need distraction.

“Her name is Amber. She’s a human psychic and an attorney. And my next door neighbor. When you went missing, I volun-told her we needed her help, and we brought her along to Mexico. She helped us follow your trail to Mexico City, where we found your original captors.”

I scowl, remembering the cage and the warehouse.

“They’re already dead,” Garrett assures me.

“A human?” Garrett mated a human? It’s unheard of for an alpha wolf to take a human mate. I hope this doesn’t mean he’ll lose his position as alpha. His pack is as loyal as they come, but you never know. Some wolf may challenge him for it. The most likely contender would be Tank, his beta, except that Tank is from our father’s pack originally and his loyalty there would prevent it.

“My wolf picked her.” Garrett shrugs but his goofy grin says he’s hopelessly in love.

Is that what happened with me and Carlos? Our wolves picked even though our human selves never would have?

What about all that stuff Carlos said just before we were drugged? About not being sorry he’d mated me? Was that the truth? Or just the effect of the full moon and a happy inner wolf?

“You sure you don’t want me to go back there and kill the entire Montelobo pack? Because I won’t hesitate if you give the word.”

“No.” I twist and grab Garrett’s shoulders before I realize what I’m doing. “You can’t do that.”

Garrett falls silent, searching my face. My grip tightens. “You can’t. Promise me.” What if Carlos were hurt? Or someone he cared about, like his mother or Juanito?

  “You sure, kiddo?” His voice is mild, but for a second I glimpse the cold-hearted predator lurking behind the human facade. The wolf would kill first and ask questions never, leaving a trail of bodies behind.

“I’m sure. Don’t let dad go back, either. Promise me.”

“All right, sis. Calm down. I promise.” I can tell he wants to ask me more, so I turn in his arms, tucking myself into his side. I hold him tight until my racing heart slows down.

Our van rolls through a sprawling city, which Garrett tells me is the country’s capital, Mexico City. We stop at a skyrise hotel and Garrett shifts in his seat, his eyes fixed on a high story window. His mate must be inside.

Ugh. I rub my nose. What would it be like to be happily mated instead of leaving the most fucked up of matings possible? “So where’s Amber, now?” I try for enthusiasm. I’m going to have a sister for the first time. With Garrett so much older, I’m more like an only child. “When can I meet her?”

“She’s in our suite. Come on. You can meet her now.”

Garrett leads me into the hotel and up an elevator, but when he enters his room, I know something’s wrong. There’s no scent of a female present—human or otherwise.

Garrett picks up a note and reads it, then roars, smashing his fist into a wall.

Well, crap.

I guess I’m not the only one whose mating is a mess.