Chapter 25
Genevieve caught the elevator to the fourth floor of the hospital and walked down the hallway to room four-eleven. A policeman sat outside the door, and she paused beside him. “Mai asked me to come by.”
He picked up a notebook next to his chair. His utility belt rattled as he rose to his full six feet four inches. “Your name, please, miss, and some identification.”
“Genevieve Warren.” She dug in her purse for her wallet and pulled out her license.
He studied it and looked up. “You’re the artist, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“My fiancée is into art, and we went to the gallery last year on Secret Avenue to see an exhibit and saw Reclining Woman. It was like seeing a live woman. I kept expecting her to open her eyes.”
“Thank you.”
He got back to what she was here for. “Besides her roommate, you’re the only person she’s asked for.”
Genevieve nodded. “I promise not to upset her. I’m just going to sit with her for a little while and offer her a shoulder to lean on.”
“That’s probably what she needs.”
Genevieve braced herself. When Juliet had said she was empathic, she hadn’t known the half of it. There were times when body language and facial expression had nothing to do with her knowing how someone felt. The pain Mai was experiencing was going to be very, very difficult for her to witness and feel.
She knocked on the wooden surface and waited for Mai to invite her in before pushing the door open.
Mai lay curled upon the bed, her eyes dry of tears. Bandages circled both wrists. Dark reddish-purple bruises marred the skin around her neck. An IV trailed into the bend of her arm, also darkened by an ugly black bruise.
Genevieve padded slowly toward her and paused beside the bed. The silent suffering she read in the depths of the other woman’s eyes, felt radiating from her, gripped her heart and gave it a squeeze.
Wordlessly she set her purse aside and climbed up on the bed to enfold Mai in a hug. When Mai began to cry, pouring out her grief and confusion in disjointed words and sobs, it was almost a relief.
* * *
Two hours later, with Mai asleep, Genevieve slid off the bed. She tore out a page from a small pad in her purse and wrote a note telling Mai she’d call later and return tomorrow. She left it propped on the bedside table and crept out of the room. A different policeman sat outside the door, this one was shorter and wiry.
“You won’t leave her, will you?”
Resentment flashed across his face, but when she continued to stare at him, his expression leveled out. “My job is to stay right here and keep everyone but the nurses or doctors out. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“The man who did this came close to suffocating her. She almost died. If he comes back to finish what he started…”
“He’s not getting past me, lady.”
“Good.” She tried to project a little more confidence than she felt. “I’ve left a note for her by the bed, and I’ll call later and come back by tomorrow. I’ve asked her to call if she needs me.”
“I’ll check in on her in a little while and tell her in case she doesn’t see the note.”
“Thank you.” Her nerves seemed hyperaware of everything, and her skin raw with emotion. She didn’t feel right about leaving Mai, but Simon was due at her house at any moment.
She’d promised Mai the drawings wouldn’t be sold, or the sculpture. It was time she kept a piece of her own work anyway.
Her head was pounding by the time she pulled into her driveway. When she let herself into the house, Butterbean rushed to meet her at the door. She tossed her purse onto the table by the door and picked him up, cuddled him, then set him back on his feet. Crossing to the cabinet next to the sink, she found the aspirin, filled a juice glass with water and washed two down.
She sat at the kitchen table to wait for them to take affect and covered her face with her hands. She felt drained, but Mai had been better when she left. For now.
Why Mai? Why had he wanted to hurt Mai over and over again? She almost died, and he’d brought her back, only to hurt her again.
Finn called himself a monster, but he wasn’t. The man who’d done this was a monster.
The doorbell rang, and she raised her head and released a breath. She didn’t want to deal with Simon and his demands. But the Richards needed to be appeased.
“You look exhausted, Genevieve.” Simon’s tone sounded edgy, almost like an accusation.
She bit back a sharp retort. “I’m all right. How did it go with the Richards?
“They understand why you want to withdraw the drawings. They were disappointed, but willing to look at the others to see if there are any they like as well.”
“Good.” That at least took some of the pressure off her. “I can imagine how much persuasion it must have taken to get them to agree to that. I appreciate all you’ve done, Simon.”
“Mrs. Richards was very shocked at what had happened. She kept looking at the drawings and crying and saying, ‘that poor girl.’ I thought they’d back out of the deal completely, but she rallied and decided she really wants to see what else you have. I think she was impressed by your sensitivity to the model’s situation.”
“Women have an instinctive, visceral reaction to another woman’s pain when it comes to this, Simon. It’s one of the worst things that can happen to any of us. Our bodies are our own, and to be forced to share such an intimacy with a stranger against her will, and coupled with the strangling… It makes me ill to think about it.”
It made her ill to hear Mai talk about it. Mai had never known what being with a man was like, and now it would be a long, long time before she’d want a man to touch her again—if ever.
Simon eyed her with an expression of sympathy, but his eyes seemed detached, analytical. She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. She felt nothing when she touched him. Just a void. Maybe this was why she didn’t find him sexually attractive, even though he was physically handsome.
“Come into the studio, and I’ll get out the drawings so we can go through them together.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
In a cabinet in her office she slid open a wide, flat drawer containing the drawings she’d used for sculptures. Some she’d completed, others were just ideas.
“Who is this?” Simon asked.
She turned to see him holding her drawing of Finn. “Just a man I saw one day. I thought he had a compelling face, so I drew him.”
“You can draw people from memory with this much detail?”
“Sometimes. I’ve drawn numerous pictures of my Gran and of Andy.”
He turned the drawing to face her. “This much detail after just meeting him in passing.”
“Actually, not. His face was disfigured. Sometimes I see the bone structure beneath and can imagine what was before, from what is.”
“Disfigured?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you.” Simon’s flat tone held a note of suppressed fury.
Silence stretched. Alarm sent prickles up Genevieve’s spine, and made the hairs on her arms stand on end. Her heart hammered hard, and her breathing came in shallow gulps. Something had risen between them. Every instinct urged her to get out of the room, to get away from him. Only the weakness of her limbs kept her standing her ground.
She bent and opened the bottom drawer and removed a photograph and the drawing she’d done of the burned man, restructuring his features as they had been before the fire that had killed him. She laid it on the table before Simon. “I once thought I’d become a forensic artist, but decided I couldn’t stomach looking at skulls all day and reconstructing faces of people who had died horrible deaths, or suffered as this man suffered.”
He picked up the drawing and looked at the photo. His throat worked as he swallowed. “You never mentioned this before.”
“There has been no reason to. My art took a different turn when I was accepted in the foreign exchange program and went to Florence.”
He lapsed into silence for a long moment. “You’re much too sensitive to work in a field surrounding you with death. You were meant to do what you do.”
Her muscles shook like Jell-O as she lifted a stack of drawings. She had to get out of this enclosed space and away from him. “You’ll be able to sort through these better on my work table in the studio.”
He set Finn’s drawing down atop the other one and preceded her into the studio. She placed the sketches in front of him and froze when Simon laid a hand on her shoulder. “I hope you’ll forgive me for what I said, Genevieve. I just saw the drawing and I thought…I was jealous. I know it isn’t an attractive trait. But I’ve waited a long time for you to get over your grief. You can’t blame me for not wanting someone else to come between us before I’ve even had a chance to win you over.”
She deftly dipped out from under the light pressure of his hand. “I still have a few more drawings to get out. I’ll be right back.”
Her mouth was dry with anxiety as she stacked the rest of the sketches. She carried them to the table. “I’ll get us some tea while you look through them.”
In the kitchen, she took her time fixing two glasses of iced tea. While she stood at the counter she took deep, calming breaths. She leaned against the cabinet and dropped her face into her hands.
What had been in that room with her? The man she thought she knew, and the man she’d sensed were two different beings. She’d actually been frightened. Was still frightened.
Even if Finn hadn’t come into her life, she’d never trust Simon enough for her feelings to grow. She’d never be able to tolerate being controlled. Although to an extent she’d allowed him to control her already. But that would stop now.
He’d been a wonderful agent, but unless he was willing to step back and keep their relationship on a professional level, she’d have to search for someone else.
She carried the glasses of iced tea the studio and, using a felt coaster, she placed the tea close by his elbow and turned her attention to the drawings he was sorting.
She studied several with a critical eye. She hated judging her work, because she always noticed things she wanted to tinker with and change. She often made adjustments to the sculptures she created from the drawings, making scale models from clay before doing the finished piece. She thought in terms of three dimensions. And though the drawings were sketched in perspective, they still were too flat to suit her.
She pulled out a drawing she did of Juliet from the back. The line of shoulders spine and hips were so perfectly symmetrical, the tilt of her head so beautiful, yet not enough of her features showed to compromise her identity. She extended it to Simon. “This one, I think.”
He studied it in silence for a moment. “Yes. This would be a comparable image. Just beautiful. Is there another?”
“I did several.” She fished through until she found some of the others. She stacked them carefully so she wouldn’t smudge them. Then turned her attention to some of her earlier work. She compared the quality of five years before until now and had to admit she’d advanced.
She sipped her tea and waited. When the phone rang, she went into her office to answer it. Mai’s voice sounded almost normal. Her normal sing-song quality, though stifled some, came through. “They’re discharging me from the hospital in the morning, and I’m leaving town for a little while.”
“Good. It will do you good to distance yourself from the area until they find him. What about school?”
“My professors have agreed to allow me to do work online with them for the rest of the semester. There’s only a couple of weeks left.”
“I’m so glad. Is there anything more I can do to help?”
“You already did, Gen. Having you here this afternoon to just listen…”
Genevieve could hear the tears in her voice and felt the sting of them in her own. “You can call me any time. And when you feel up to it, I’ll come visit.”
“Thanks. I’d like that.”
“Is Sylvia with you?”
“Yes. She’s staying the night with me here.”
“Good. Take good care of yourself, Mai.”
“I will. And thank you for pulling the drawings and the sculpture. I know how much that cost you monetarily…and otherwise.”
“That doesn’t matter. You matter more.”
“I know you mean that, and it means so much to me because you do, Gen. I’ll call in a few days.”
“I’ll be glad to hear from you.”
She hung up the phone and turned to find Simon standing in the doorway behind her.
“I think I’ve found three equally beautiful pairs of drawings to show the Richards.”
“Good.” She followed him back into the studio, looked over the sketches, and agreed they were probably comparable to the ones of Mai. Two were some she’d done of Juliet, two were of a child at the park downtown, and the last two were of the sculpture she was finishing now. She used a kneaded eraser to clean up a place or two on each drawing, then retrieved a portfolio for him to carry them to his office.
“Are you going to forgive me for what I said, Genevieve?” Simon asked, his expression solemn.
“It’s already forgiven, Simon. But…”
She dragged in a deep breath, braced herself, and realized she was shaking and her heart was about to fly out of her chest. “I’m used to doing as I like, making my own decisions, seeing whom I want. I think you’d be more satisfied with someone who is more submissive. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Some women want a man to take charge of their lives and make all the decisions. But I’m never going to be that woman, Simon. I’ve been on my own for too long. Been responsible for my own property, my business.”
She touched his arm again, briefly. “I think it’s best that we keep our relationship on a professional level. It’s been profitable for us both so far. We make a good team there, but I think we’re both too strong-willed to make it work in a romantic sense. It would be a constant power struggle between us, and that would negatively impact our business relationship.”
He stood completely still, his eyes tracing her features, his expression blank.
Her heart raced and her stomach ached with tension. Her mouth was so dry her throat closed entirely when she swallowed.
“You’re probably right.” His casual tone threw her for a moment.
Relief stormed through her, and the tension tightening her stomach and shoulders released a degree, but there was still something in his demeanor that triggered an anxious wariness.
“I’ll get back to you regarding what the Richards say about these other drawings. I’d like to have all six framed, though, and hang them in the gallery.”
“That sounds good. Thanks, Simon. I appreciate all you do for me.”
“As you say, it’s profitable for us both. What would you like me to do with the drawings of Mai?”
“I’d like them back.” His distant, controlled tone was giving her the creeps.
“I’ll see to it. And we’ll talk later.”
“Okay.”
She followed him through the house and let him out.
She waited for him to reach his car before turning the lock on her front door…and, with a rush of goose bumps, realized she’d been afraid the click of the lock would set him off.
Every moment they were together this time, she’d been braced for an explosion. Her shoulder muscles felt painfully tight.
When Simon pulled out of the driveway, she went to the breezeway door and unlocked it, walking down the steps to Finn’s block.
“I’m here.” His deep gravelly voice came from the porch. She turned to find him sitting on the front steps, his elbows on his knees. She moved to sit beside him.
“How is the lass?” he asked.
“She’s going to leave town for a while until they catch the man.”
“Good.”
Tears welled up, and she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, her elbows on her knees. Finn rubbed a comforting hand against her back. The tears fell faster. When she turned against him, his arm surrounded her, and the lingering feelings of fear and distress eased.
The gradual awareness of his firm, muscular, bare chest distracted her. She breathed in the scent of soap on his skin and his own natural scent. It was like sunshine on clean sheets, with a hint of mint. Her body responded, though she willed it not to.
She drew back to look up at him. He leaned his forehead against hers, and the pain in his expression had fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.
His voice roughened. “I canna kiss ye with this mouth, Genevieve, but I long to.”
Her heart tumbled at his words and the look in his eyes.
“If the spell works, ’twill be the first thin’ I will wish t’do.”
“After six hundred and sixty years, I imagine there will be numerous women you’ll want to kiss.”
He shook his head. “I have learned my lesson well, lass. I will never make light of a kiss or a caress ever again.”
But if the spell didn’t break the curse…what then? They fell silent and held each other.
Finn asked, “What does the man Simon do for ye?”
“He’s my agent. He finds buyers for my artwork.”
“He wants more.”
“How do you know that?”
“He was swearing when he got into his car.”
He had been so controlled in the house. Spooky controlled. “I don’t have those kinds of feelings for him.”
“’Twould do ye well to have a man to protect ye.”
She started to say I have you, but cut off the thoughts and the words. He didn’t need that kind of pressure when he was facing…whatever he was facing…tomorrow night.
“He called ye a bitch when he left.”
It didn’t surprise her, but it still gave her stomach a wrench. “He was upset.”
“I dinna trust him, Genevieve, and I dinna think ye should, either.”
“We’re just business associates, Finn. Nothing more.”
“If a man canna be trusted with yer person, he shouldna be trusted with yer money.”
The wisdom of his words was undeniable. She was stuck between loyalty to Simon for all he had done to help build her career, and the breathless fear that had overwhelmed her while she was in the office with him this afternoon.
What would he do if she ended their business relationship?
He wouldn’t be nearly as controlled as he was tonight. Of that, she was certain.
And why hadn’t she noticed his romantic interest in her? When she looked back on the past two years of their relationship, all she saw was his helpfulness in finding a crew to remodel her kitchen and bathrooms, and his concern when she was too devastated to work.
He’d been waiting for her grief to abate after Andy was out of the picture. She shivered at the thought. The paint on Andy’s car was from a dark blue ford truck, not the Corvette Simon had before he bought the Jaguar. Simon couldn’t have anything to do with Andy’s accident.
“I’ll fix us some food.”
“No need, lass. I caught some fish and cleaned them. I’d like to try my hand at grilling them, if ye’ll allow me to.”
“Sure.” He was slowly becoming a twenty-first-century guy. “Tell me what you’d like to have with them, and I’ll fix it.”
“Baked potato, loaded…and something green, because ye like it.”
Yeah, he was turning into a twenty-first century man. “I have some asparagus, and I don’t think you’ve ever had it before.” She’d been trying to introduce him to a variety of vegetables. He’d eat anything, but thus far his favorites were loaded baked potatoes and little else. “I’ll show you how to grill it with the fish.”
* * *
While they ate, they talked about the book he was reading, which was about breakthroughs in medicine.
“I am amazed that anyone survived in my time. Some of the wounds I sustained during my training should have killed me.”
“Your body was strong from exercise, lots of sunshine, and plenty of food.”
“Better food than had by the villagers who grew it. And I do enjoy my daily baths, where before few of us bathed in the winter. ’Twas too cold, and hot water was hard to come by unless ye lived in the castle.” Finn grinned. “I dinna have head lice or body lice or fleas, either, and I’ve noticed none of the wolves get them, either.”
“Something I am very grateful for. Just the idea makes me want to scratch my head.” She gave a delicate shiver.
Finn laughed. “The women would comb their hair with fine combs to rid themselves of them, and put fresh rushes with herbs on the floor to keep away the fleas.”
He changed the subject to the latest movie he’d watched on the television she installed just beneath the eaves of the house. He was a little surprised by the language and the love scenes. Though in his time it wasn’t unheard of to come upon a couple swiving in a field now and then, the blatant imagery had been embarrassing, but also fascinating to watch.
And it left him with a strong longing for Genevieve. Would making love be as intense as the scenes in the movie? More so, probably, because they had a bond. They were constantly walking the fine line between what they wanted and what they could have.
“Oh, you actually got it to work?”
“Aye.” His magic played hell with electronic things. “As long as I put some distance between me and it, ’twill work.”
“I’m glad you figured it out. Movies are just pretend, Finn.”
It hadn’t looked like they were pretending, with them both naked and panting. “Does the woman’s reputation not suffer because she’s been seen unclothed?”
“No. Though I’m sure some men probably say rather sexist things about her that could be hurtful and inappropriate if she was aware of it. And I’m sure a lot of the women say similar things about the man. We call men who are muscular and well-built eye candy or hunks, but we recognize they’re just playing a role, and that they’re regular human beings with lives and families off the screen.”
“There are hundreds of years of knowledge I have missed. To live in yer world, I will have to study for years.”
“What were you best at before all this happened?”
“Swinging a sword and training and caring for the horses.”
“You’re very good at landscaping too. You did a fine job setting in the plants and laying the mulch I bought. Being a landscaper or horse trainer are both honorable professions. You’ll find your place, Finn.”
He hoped so. To survive for so long and then lose his way once he was once again human would be disheartening. He’d find useful work to do so she would continue to have respect for him.
Several cars turned into the driveway and, seeing no way to flee without being seen, Finn crouched on his block until he realized it was Braxton Myers and Henry Sutton with a few members of the pack. But behind them were others.
“There are several groups from town who have heard about you, Finn. They want an introduction.”
“For what purpose?” he asked.
“They just want to make certain you aren’t a danger to their packs. I explained to them we have welcomed you into our pack, but they seem to think that gives us an edge, though none of our packs are at war with each other.”
Finn shook his head. “I had hoped the need to fight over land had ended by now.”
“Not land, Finn. Hunting territory.”
“What territory do they claim?”
“All of the east forest past the lake.”
“I have not been there, other than to look for the lass who was taken. I havena trespassed.”
More cars and trucks zipped down the drive and pulled into the yard. Men and a few women poured out of the vehicles and converged on the patio. Genevieve gripped his arm, her fingers digging in with tension. Though he saw no weapons, he recognized the group as a hunting party.
“Go in the house, Genevieve,” he murmured close to her ear.
Her features were frozen in fear and concern. “No. This is my property, and they’re trespassing.”
“I canna protect myself if I’m worried about protecting ye.”
“You won’t have to protect me. If they harm me, there’ll be too many questions asked.”
“Not if you disappear,” Braxton murmured from behind her.
Finn’s concern spiked, and he gripped Genevieve’s chin to bring her gaze to his. “Go in the house.”
She pulled away from him, her mouth flattened in anger. “No.”
He had no choice but to concentrate on the group descending on him. He kept his hands at his sides while the twenty or so people crowded around. An older man, at least six-foot-four, with a wide chest and shoulders, marched up to him. His grizzled gray hair flowed back from a wide forehead, and his beard bushed around his face. “I’m Tate Johnston. Head of the bear clan.”
Finn inclined his head in acknowledgement of the introduction. “Finn MacLeod.”
“We have some questions for you.”
“Ask them.”
“How did you know the woman had been taken?”
So this wasn’t about hunting territory at all, but suspicion he might have had something to do with the lass’s disappearance. “Genevieve knew the lass,” he said, gesturing to her. “’Twas she who told me she was missing. She said the lass would never wander off without calling her friend. She thought the wolves would be able to track Mai from The Dish.”
“How did you know to look at the lake?”
“Henry searched the scents and said the lass was taken south. The lake had empty cottages and empty boats upon the water. To hold her, and do what he did, he’d have to have an empty place, and away from others. While the wolves searched the cottages, I searched the houseboats. I searched ten before I smelled blood, human blood. That was how I found her. I raised the anchor and broke the line holding the boat in place and towed it to the dock.”
“It’s a funny thing you found her so quickly. And nothing like this has happened here in Superstition until you showed up.”
“You’re wrong, Tate,” Henry spoke. “You’re pairing this with Finn’s arrival, when in truth it’s happened four or five times in the past six or seven years. Campus assaults, just like everywhere else.”
Tate turned his attention back to Finn. “Why didn’t you just free her and take her to shore?”
“She was injured, bleeding, and seeing me wouldna have helped her state. I dinna have the luxury of shifting to a human form as ye do.”
Henry spoke again. “Finn was with us, hunting in our territory, when the woman was taken after she left The Dish. Also, she didn’t have Finn’s scent on her. Nor did the bed. The scent was wholly human.”
“Would you be so quick to defend him,” his tone implied he was lying on Finn’s behalf, “if you hadn’t taken him into your pack?”
Henry had put himself out there as far as he needed. “I hunt with Henry’s pack, but I am’na a part of it. How can I be? I am not wolf. But there are no others like me. Is that what frightens ye?”
“We’re not frightened of you, gargoyle.”
“Then why are ye here?”
“You have no mate, nor a possibility of one.” The implication was clear. If he didn’t have a woman, he was attacking women to serve his needs, or if he wasn’t already, he would be.
“But he does,” Genevieve said, she pressed in close against him. Finn automatically put an arm around her, but sent a doubtful look down at her face and released her name on a sigh.
Tate’s gaze swung between her and Finn. “You’re lying.”
Genevieve shook her head. “Your bigotry is showing, Tate Johnston. Does being able to change into a bear make you any more or any less a man?”
The crowd, thus far silent, shifted, and a murmur traveled through them.
“Prove it,” Tate challenged.
“Prove what?” Finn asked.
“That you’re lovers.”
Genevieve’s cheeks pinkened. “Don’t tell me that in addition to being a bigot, you’re also a voyeur.”
Henry snorted in an attempt to stifle his laughter.
Tate narrowed his eyes and a deep growl emanated from him. “Kiss her. If she wants you, we’ll all be able to tell.”
After all the man’s questions, that suggestion sent blood rushing to Finn’s face. He wouldn’t shame Genevieve in such a way. “Are ye afraid, then, that I might move into yer territory and challenge ye?”
“No, you wouldn’t survive a challenge.”
“I have survived for six hundred and sixty-three years. What makes ye think ye can kill me?”
Another murmur went through the crowd.
“Finn—” Genevieve murmured. “Please.” Her worry for his safety was written in her pale face and the taut line of her mouth.
If she was saying that when they were alone, he’d be hard pressed to deny her. But being surrounded by witnesses. The sweet scent of her arousal when she wanted him was meant for him, not an audience. That was what encouraged him to go on, though he tried not to put too much hope in the promise of more. “I winna have ye shamed before the likes of them. What is between us is ours, not theirs. Ye know why I can’t allow this.”
Henry stepped forward and folded his arms across his chest. “Your own women could benefit from such a strong desire to protect and defend, not only their bodies, but their privacy, and their honor, if you want to use that word,” Henry said, his tone droll. His gaze traveled over the crowd. “Couldn’t you, ladies?”
There were only six women in the crowd, but none of them would meet his gaze. A woman stepped forward. A smattering of gray was scattered through her chin-length hair, but her skin looked soft and supple. Her eyes rested on Tate as she spoke. “You’re the sexual predator here, Tate. You and your men. You don’t even try to spare our pride. You parade your infidelities before us like they’re badges of honor.”
She scanned the rest of the men. “How do you think it makes us feel, knowing we are just one of many, and don’t really count for anything special. We’re the ones raising the children, cooking your meals, working jobs to help support your households, and you treat us like we’re no more to you than the other women you fuck. And you’re not even ashamed enough to at least try to hide it. You act like it’s your due. A mating like this isn’t what I want for my daughters. And it isn’t what I want my sons to offer the women they chose to spend their life with.”
“Shut up, Allison,” Tate growled.
“Show them how you make me, Tate.” There was pain in her voice. “You’ve paraded the cracks in our marriage before the whole pack. Why not that, too?”
Tate stormed toward her. Finn pulled away from Genevieve and leapt forward to grab his arm. Tate tried to shake him off, and Finn looped an arm around his massive chest and held him. Tate twisted and struggled. Finn gritted his teeth with the effort, for the shifter was muscular and powerful. A man broke away from the group, as though to come to Tate’s aid. Braxton leapt in front of him, and the two fought.
Tate pushed back with his feet to throw Finn off balance. With a snap of his wings, Finn flew high, suspending the larger man above the pack. He flew toward the bank of trees along the edge of Genevieve’s property. “Ye have lost the respect of yer woman through yer own selfish actions, bear shifter. Ye have led the other lads in yer pack to do the same with theirs.”
“Who are you to sit in judgment on me? Put me down.”
He drove the back of his large head into Finn’s face. Pain exploded across the cusp of his eye and cheekbone, and he released Tate, letting him fall the thirty feet to the ground.
The dull thump as he landed was followed by a yell and a curse. In the distance a high-pitched cheer went up. Finn swooped down and landed close beside the fallen shifter.
“You’ve broken my damn leg.” Tate groaned as he twisted to rise. “I think my back is broken too.”
The men of the pack ran across the field toward them. Finn blinked to clear his vision, but the eye watered from the pain, and his vision was blurry.
“I lost everythin’ I held dear because I didna treat the people who mattered with respect. The mother of my child died birthing him, and I never got to tell her how sorry I was for so selfishly taking the gift she gave me.
“Ye already lost the respect of your women. They hold ye responsible for their men’s behavior. ’Tis the men who lead, but ’tis the women who hold the clan together. They are the givers of life and of love. And it is fearsome hard for a woman to stand by a man she canna respect. If ye continue to follow this course, ye’ll lose everythin’, as I did. And ye’ll be as alone as I was.”
The sound of the men wading through the tall grass came closer.
Finn could stay and fight them all, or he could retreat, and hope it ended here. He couldn’t take on the whole pack alone, and he couldn’t ask the wolves to help. This was not their fight.
Finn flew toward the house, pain radiating from his cheekbone to his temple. His eye was already swelling shut.
Genevieve gasped when he landed. “Dear God, Finn. I’ll get you some ice.” She ran into the house.
“That damn bear has a thick skull. I shoulda warned you,” Henry said, leaning closer to examine the damage.
“Aye. ’Twould have been helpful.”
“The ladies enjoyed seeing you drop Tate. Allison would have appreciated it more if you’d dropped him on his head.”
“’Twould not have done any good. He’ll learn a hard lesson when his pack leaves him.” With the back of his hand, Finn wiped away the tears determined to run down his face. “They will eventually.”
“I need to touch the bones around your eye, Finn. That asshole may have broken a few, and you don’t want to lose an eye.”
Henry ran a thumb around the eye socket and his cheekbone. Finn gritted his teeth and bit back a moan.
“I don’t think he’s broken anything, but it’s going to take some time to heal.”
Genevieve was back with a plastic bag of ice wrapped in a towel. “The women actually cheered when you dropped him. Who put it into his head you’d want to take over his pack?”
Finn glanced up out of his one good eye into Henry’s face, but he shook his head. “You’re a new player in the area. And he’s losing his grip on his people. Some of the older folks are drifting away from him.”
“I’m not a bear.” Finn accepted the bag of ice and held it against his eye. The cold seemed to sooth it some.
“Sometimes strength means more, especially when you have a leader who’s managed to beat every challenger. Those who want to split from him and his followers are looking for a leader, and you’d be a good candidate.”
“I canna lead them. I dinna know how much time I have left.”
Henry’s expression shifted to one of concern, and he glanced in Genevieve’s direction.
Finn attempted to make a joke to ease the two’s their worries. “And I dinna need to take on a harem of discontented women. One determined to protect me is enough.”
Genevieve shot him a warning glance. “They were accusing you of something you didn’t do. I wasn’t going to stand by while they lynched you.”
He wasn’t familiar with the term, but he had an inkling of what it meant.
They all tracked the men’s progress as they carried their injured leader to one of the trucks.
Braxton ran up from the field with the other four men who’d come with them. The first truck pulled out. “You’ve done some damage, but he’ll heal as soon as he shifts.” Braxton didn’t sound pleased. “He comes on to our wives and girlfriends. But they’ve all been warned.”
Why the desperation to prove his manhood? “I doubt anythin’ I said to him will penetrate his thick skull.” If the shifter continued on his course, there would be worse trouble, and Genevieve would be dragged into it.
Unless the curse were broken and he became human once again. As a human, he would not be a threat to the bear shifter. “Should his mate leave him, it might make him wake up to what he’s wasting.”
“I think Allison’s already out the door,” Genevieve said. “Going after her here in front of witnesses was the last straw. I heard her say she’s taking the children and going to stay with her family.”
“Maybe that will be enough,” Braxton said.
Finn shook his head. “I hoped people would learn from their mistakes, but it seems they just keep repeatin’ them.”
Henry gave him a slap on the back that jarred his head, and he bit back an oath as pain arrowed through him. “Friend, you have no idea.”