Chapter Fourteen
Cold water sluiced over his body, chilling his skin but not the heat in his blood. The shower jets pounded down on his back and chest, massaging his fatigued muscles with tiny, icelike needles of water. It was bracing. Exactly what he needed. Her memories kept playing out in his brain, cycling through countless atrocities—images and sounds and pain. The only time it stopped was when she touched him. Being lost in her, buried in the mind-numbing tightness of her body, stopped all thought. But she was exhausted, and he wasn’t a totally selfish ass, so he’d hoped a cold shower would snap him out of whatever the fuck this was.
He had a mate? If he didn’t feel it—no, know it—he’d laugh. But he did. Damn it. He did. And if he had a mate, he had a wolf.
“Fuck.” He growled, tilting his face back under the water.
Everything he was working for seemed empty now. After the attack, he’d clung to the belief that this was fixable. Now…he just didn’t know. And Ellen? There wasn’t a more complicated woman in existence.
She was stubborn. Smart, yes, and undeniably sexy. But something inside of him had claimed her as his. Theirs. And there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing. It was done.
Now he was forever tied to a woman who would hate him if he continued to pursue his work. He couldn’t cure Ellen from being Ellen. He didn’t want to. Did he?
“Fuck,” he ground out again, resting his head against the tiles.
What was he hoping? He’d take her to bed and suddenly her goals and wants would change? He might be having some sort of life-altering upheaval, but that didn’t mean she was. No. Ellen’s goals were the same.
Maybe, deep down, he’d hoped she’d pick him over vengeance. But that was before. Now he understood. He’d seen what she’d been through, fucking felt it. His skin twitched, seeking escape from a touch that wasn’t there. Now he understood why her drive was so complete. She’d been to hell and back. If anyone had a right to vengeance, it was her. And damn it all, he’d make sure she had it.
And his work? He blinked the water away. Did it matter?
As unfamiliar as the urge to hunt was, he recognized it. How could he rest until the motherfucking bastard was annihilated? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. She needed peace. They all needed peace. Deserved it.
He’d been so lost in his head he didn’t hear her until her hands were on his back.
“It’s freezing.” She stepped back, then squealed as the rear jets blasted her.
He adjusted the temperature. “I didn’t hear you.”
“You normally take arctic showers?” she asked, tentatively testing the water temperature. With a sigh, she stepped under the water.
God she was incredible. Water streamed over her body, dipping into her belly button, dripping from her nipples, coursing between her full breasts. He couldn’t get enough of her.
“No?” she asked, watching him. “Yes?”
“No,” he rasped. “But I can’t seem to stop touching you and since you wouldn’t promise not to rip my throat out, I thought I’d give this a try.”
She stopped washing her hair, her eyes going wide. “I’m your mate. You can touch me whenever you want to.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I never do.” Her chin lifted, just enough.
“I know.” There was plenty of things they didn’t know about each other, but her character wasn’t in question.
“I saw a woman in your head.” There was an edge to her voice.
A very interesting, slightly amusing edge. But he knew better than to smile.
“She had long blond hair,” she continued. “Green eyes.”
“What about her?” He poured shampoo into his hand and lathered up his hair.
“Hollis?” Her tone alerted him.
He took his time rinsing his hair, then looked at her. “Ellen?”
She was gorgeous when she was angry. And she was angry. “Who is she?”
She would have left the shower if he hadn’t caught her and pulled her against him. The fire in her eyes was glorious, and ridiculous. But it didn’t stop him from smiling.
“Are you laughing at me?” she hissed, her cheeks an alarming shade of red.
“Are you telling me you’re jealous of my cousin?” he asked.
She frowned, relaxing against him.
“Abigail. She’s a school teacher in Wisconsin. We were close when we were little—the same age. Her husband is an engineer. They have two kids. I get a Christmas card every year. What else would you like to know?” His fingers skimmed along her spine.
She pinched him, hard.
“Ow.” He arched away from her. “What did I do?”
“You’re teasing me,” she returned, less irritated but still hostile.
“I didn’t think you’d give a crap about my cousin. In Wisconsin.” He smiled at her. “I’m still coming to terms with the fact that you were in my head.”
Her gaze fell from his and his arms tightened around her. His childhood was fairly commonplace. No skeletons in the family closet. Until Finn’s infection, life had been uneventful. Almost boring. He couldn’t remember what boring meant.
Her forehead rested against his chest. “Your parents look kind.”
“They are.” He continued to stoke her back.
“And your brother. I’m sorry about your brother.” She looked at him. “He was important to you?”
“He was.” His smile was sad. “He was a good brother.”
She cradled his face in her hands, her gaze growing thoughtful. Intense. Guarded.
“Stop overanalyzing this,” he whispered.
“This? Coming from you.” Her smile was hesitant.
“The irony isn’t lost on me,” he mumbled, watching the tip of her tongue slide along her full lower lip. Her even white teeth sank into the soft skin and she smiled.
“Distract me,” she whispered.
The urge to push her against the wall, sink his teeth into her lower lip, and thrust—hard—into her. His lungs emptied and his body hardened, ready and willing, and it scared the shit out of him. He wasn’t wired this way. He wasn’t Mal. This whole wolf thing wouldn’t dictate what he would or wouldn’t do. Even if he really wanted to do it. “No more sex,” he finished, gruffly.
Her mismatched eyes widened and her full lips pulled down.
She was pouting? How could he refuse her?
“You’re not enjoying yourself?” she asked, her hands sliding over the curve of his ass to grip him, hard. And just like that, he was rock-hard and pressing against her stomach.
She noticed, how could she not? Her sweet, excited smile had his resistance weakening.
His hands ran up her sides to cup her full breasts. Her nipples hardened in invitation. “I am.”
“There is so much to enjoy.” She arched into his touch, reaching down to slide her fingers along his dick. “You’re massive. And mine to enjoy.”
He liked hearing her say that. Calling him hers. Which was a fucking surprise. His brows rose. “And you like it.”
“I do,” she agreed, sliding her fingers along his shaft, gripping him and stroking him firmly. Her thumb traced the vein along the underside of his erection, then circled the crown. He jerked in her hand. “Very, very much.”
She shimmied down his body and knelt on the heated tile floor. Before he had time to react, her lips surrounded him. Her eyes met his while she took him deep into the wet heat of her mouth. His hands braced himself against the shower walls, his legs tightened and clenched. She gripped him in one hand, allowing herself to pump him into her mouth with ease.
“Oh fuck,” he ground out, his head falling back against the wall.
She growled, raking her nails down his thigh.
“Ellen,” he bit out. “Dammit.” His hand cradled the back of her head. Her silky hair against his palm, the lick of her tongue around his shaft, the vibration of her growl along his dick. He groaned and stared down at her. “Fuck,” he said again.
There was nothing as erotic as seeing him disappear between her lips. Her eyes were closed now, the light scrape of her teeth and the tightening of her grip on his erection making him throb and pulse in her mouth. He couldn’t wait. Or stop. Her eyes fluttered open as he came, watching as he arched into her, a broken groan tearing from his chest.
He slumped against the wall, panting and weak. While Ellen stood, smiling victoriously, in front of him.
“Clean yet?” she asked, yawning and stretching like a cat. A very pleased-with-herself cat.
“Sleepy?” he asked, slightly breathless.
She nodded.
“Good.” He was, too. With any luck, he’d sleep out of pure exhaustion. He turned off the water, wrapped her in a towel, and led the way out of the shower stall. Five minutes later, they were crawling into his bed.
“Sleep. For now.” She rolled onto her side and burrowed under the covers but reached back for his hand. With a sigh, she placed it on her hip and relaxed.
Hollis flipped off the bedside lamp and lay still. He concentrated on the beating of her heart, the way her respirations grew longer and deeper, and the slight twitch she made as she slept. Peacefully.
She was his responsibility now, whether she saw it that way or not. Whatever life had thrown at her, she’d survived. And now he’d make damn sure nothing happened to her. The glimpse into her past had jump-started a primal instinct. Now the urge to protect ruled everything else.
He stared down at Ellen, feasting on her as she slept. Here was his reason to fight. He owed it to her to acknowledge the wolf he’d caged inside himself. Ellen’s past had brought the wolf raging to the surface. It had demanded justice, demanded violence. Hollis feared the beast would tear his way out of his body, if his heart was strong enough.
The wolf had retreated, and his body seized from the flood of endorphins. Then—nothing. He’d need his wolf’s help to beat Cyrus. Shifting might be impossible, but they’d find a way to make it work.
For Ellen’s sake.
Now the wolf lurked in his mind, remaining silent after being so long ignored.
She rolled over, her hand searching across the mattress for him. He smiled, lifting her hand and placing it on his stomach. With a sigh, she drifted back to sleep.
He could still feel her on his fingers, taste her on his tongue. All he wanted was to claim her. Rational thought and planning had taken a back seat to raw hunger and need. Losing control was new. She made it easy.
He ran his hand down her back, watching the smile that creased her face. Even in sleep, she responded to him. That was all it took to make him throb with need again. He couldn’t help it. Being buried inside of her was heaven. Nothing compared. Nothing.
Nothing compared to the hell her memories had put him through, either. He couldn’t erase the image of Isabel from his mind. He’d held her, smelled her, known her—loved her as Ellen had. And when Ellen lost her, he’d shared her grief. It couldn’t compare to what her mate had endured, he knew that, but it had damn near crippled him.
William… Hollis didn’t want to think about William. The man had left her to defend their child. He’d come back on the end of a chain to see Ellen, bleeding and injured, screaming over their lifeless daughter. He’d given her no words of comfort, asked for no forgiveness. No, the bastard had told her to avenge him.
William had been proud and selfish, and Ellen had paid the price.
“What’s the matter?” she whispered, her face shadowed by the dark.
“Sorry, I woke you.”
Her fingers threaded with his.
He shook his head, a hard knot of anger lodged in his throat. But one look told him she wouldn’t let him off that easy. “Thinking. Your mate, William.”
She flinched and burrowed into his side. “He was. No longer. You are very different men. William and I agreed to mate. Our wolves chose each other—unable to resist.”
His brows rose. “Agreed? That’s different? Than this—us?”
She nodded. “It is. You and I were fated, pulled together no matter how hard we resisted.” Her hand pressed again his cheek. “Our bond is natural and final.”
“Maybe we should have resisted harder,” he teased, kissing her palm.
“It would have made no difference.”
“So you and William weren’t like this?” he asked, oddly pleased.
“No. In time we grew together. But our bond was formed to align the packs.” Her breath hitched and she paused before asking, “Do you want to know this?”
“Yes.” Did he? Not that what he wanted mattered. Here, in the dark, tangled up in her, might make it easier.
“What I remember is…chopped up. You saw most of it.” She rested her head on his chest. “I have no way of knowing what, if any, of the images before William’s death are real.”
He traced his fingers through her hair, running a finger along her scar. “Do they change? What you see, I mean?”
“Very little,” she murmured, running a finger down his chest. “I’ve often wondered if my wolf keeps things from me. She’s very protective.”
But did that mean her wolf was hiding something worse than what he’d seen? “She should protect you. Wolves do that, don’t they?”
“You tell me.” Her voice was low. “You can’t deny yours exists now, can you? I saw him. In your eyes. Pushing to get out.”
He shook his head. He knew very little about the wolf inside of him, except… “He’s protective of you.”
“As he should be. Assure him I can take care of myself.” But there was no bite to her words.
But her words had him, and his wolf, bracing for an argument. As brave and strong as she was, protecting her was nonnegotiable. He knew that now. “Neither of us doubt you can. But now you’ll never have to.”
She burrowed closer, her hand splaying wide on his chest. “I like that. Us. You’ve already accepted him.” Her palm was warm.
Why the image of her burned palms cropped up now was a mystery. But she was touching him, and he needed to know. “Can you read me now?” As close as he wanted them to be, it was unnerving to think of her getting into his head without his knowledge.
She stiffened in his hold. “You think I would do that to you? Without your consent?”
“No,” he whispered. Consent was important to her. And, from what her hellish memories had revealed, consent had rarely played a role in her life with Cyrus and the Others. His mind raced, trekking through the sensory stimulus, broken conversations, and inescapable torment she’d suffered. One image, Cyrus—blood dripping from his mouth—smiling down at her. She’d hated him then. Hated herself for the power she was giving him.
“What is it?” she asked, her fingers gently grasping his chin and forcing him to see her. “Your mind is wandering.”
There were times he wished he wasn’t a scientist. Maybe then he could turn off the constant questions and curiosity, the need for answers and truth, even when it wasn’t what he wanted. But her reaction was unshakable. His wolf was prowling around, raging, for reasons Hollis didn’t fully understand.
“Hollis,” she whispered. “Tell me.”
“Cyrus.” He cleared his throat, hating the way her gaze fell from his. “He…he did something to you—”
“He did a great many things.” She stiffened. “I was of use to him, you see. First as a healer for the pack, then a potential mate when his pack began to weaken—I’d birthed a child, I could do it again. But I didn’t, I couldn’t. So he punished me. When he tired of that, he lent me to Byron. But he could never truly let me go. Or kill me. He needed my blood.” Her voice faltered, cracking.
Coldness seeped into his blood—his bones. “What do you mean?” He turned on the lamp then, needing to see her.
She blinked, shielding her face, blinking rapidly.
“Why did he need your blood?” He pushed now.
“My blood makes him stronger.” She couldn’t look at him. “That’s why he wants Finn’s children. They were born wolves. Their blood is pure. Like mine.”
“Jesus Christ,” he ground out. “What are you telling me? He ingested your blood?”
“In the beginning. Later, with an IV.” She slipped from the bed and walked to the window. “I was collared, or I could have fought him. Silver. It burns.” Her hand crept up, stroking her neck. “He kept me weak. If I’d been stronger, I would have stopped him—”
He was up then, barely controlling his fury, and spinning her to face him. “You would have died.” He tilted her head back, forcing her to look at him. “You said we were fated. That means you survived for me.” His forehead rested against hers. “You can stop him now. Let me help you.”
She stared into his eyes for so long he worried he’d said something wrong. He was new to this. All of it. Talking, sharing, and feeling. And he suspected he was failing, epically.
Her hands slid up to cradle his face. “You believe me?” It was a whisper. “Believe, a little, in magic?”
How could he not? It stood there, before him. And lived inside of him. “Yes.”
“Good. It’s easier to fight for something you believe in.”
He’d never thought of himself as a fighter. Until now. But she was right. As hard as it was to know what he knew, it explained why she was so single-minded. If Ellen was taken from him? It was hard to breathe, to think, or pay attention to what she was saying. His wolf was up and pacing again, the drive to take Cyrus down now overruling everything else—except the feel of her as she pressed herself closer to him.
Soft. Warm. Inviting. His.
Her mismatched eyes were studying him. “He can never get his hands on the children. Ever.”
He nodded. Until Cyrus was dead, the pack needed to be on alert. He wasn’t sure he could handle the answer but knowing just how patient Cyrus could be was relevant. “When did this happen, Ellen? How old would Isabel be?”
She stared at his chest. “According to their death certificates, she died with her father in the San Francisco earthquake. April eighteenth, nineteen hundred and six. So many died that day, Cyrus must have been waiting for the perfect time. The chaos and devastation left behind ensured no one would find mass casualties unusual.” She stared up at him. “My pack, I think, though I cannot be sure. All of them, William and Isabel, too, were staying in a hotel that collapsed—killing all inside.”
His arms snaked around her then, holding her close. Holy Fuck.
The implications of what she said weren’t lost on him. While his brain ticked off a list of questions that included how long she’d been alive and how her blood strengthened Cyrus, a less rational part of him wanted action—violence—against the motherfucker who’d done so much to her. Eighteen hundred and six? She’d been Cyrus’s captive ever since. A vice clamped down on his heart. Before it thundered wildly, endorphins and adrenaline kicking it into overdrive.
But her reaction to the vault made sense. Half of the artifacts he’d collected came from the remains of a purported witches’ coven that was destroyed in the San Francisco quake. He’d almost passed the wooden chest up. Almost. But something about it had held his attention until he’d carried it out. Now everything clicked into place. The beaded necklace. He knew, with absolute certainty, that it was the one she’d mentioned. Her pack’s story. Her forgotten history. What he’d found was for her. It was hard to wrap his head around what was happening. He didn’t need more evidence of her magic, more proof that she was right—about everything. Denying it? Impossible. They were fated to be together.
A new thrum, hot and wild, flooded his blood. This time, he didn’t ignore what it was. No, who it was. It was his…wolf. And it was time the two of them came to an understanding.
…
She woke to a new world. A far more complicated world than the one in which she’d fallen asleep. And the man beside her? Pleasure wasn’t something she remembered well. Her wolf did—she was the one that put them in this position. In bed. Naked. Thoroughly satisfied.
And mated for life.
Everything about him appealed to her. No, not appealed. That wasn’t enough. He called to her, demanded a response—one her wolf was all too happy to give him. Surrender and domination, she wasn’t sure which was which when she was with him. Did it matter?
It was an alarming thought.
Still, it was the truth. A terrifying truth.
He turned his head, his hair falling onto his forehead. Thick copper lashes rested on his cheek. Lips parted. Body relaxed. He slept deeply, his breathing deep and even. Too tempting to resist. Her wolf refused to resist.
Which made her frown. Her wolf was happy. Was she? This brilliant, stubborn man was now inextricably bound to her. Forever. They had no common ground—no shared beliefs—except the overwhelming urge to explore and pleasure him. To touch him. To be with him.
And, now, to hunt Cyrus. But would he still feel that way when he woke? When his wolf was caged and he was buttoned into his starched shirts and white lab coat?
How will this work?
Her wolf dismissed her worries and settled in, staring at him in delight.
Stupid animal.
Before she knew it, one finger ran along his jaw, the scrape of stubble against her fingertips tickling her heightened nerves. Her wolf wanted more. According to her wolf, there was far too much space between them. I won’t climb on top of him while he’s sleeping, she argued silently.
What would happen when he woke up? Knowing him, there would be no shy smiles and tender glances. And why should there be? Being mated had little to do with emotion and everything to do with instinct. Instinct was something he didn’t understand—not yet. Not as long as he continued to fight who and what he was.
Her wolf had every confidence they would draw him out. Last night had been promising, but Hollis was a stubborn idiot. Even if he stopped denying his wolf’s existence, he wouldn’t wake up smiling and happy about it.
And now she was stuck with him.
If only she could share her wolf’s delight.
To her, there was nothing delightful about this. Except for the sex.
She slipped from the bed, tugging on his boxers and then one of her tank tops as she walked to the balcony. Outside, the moon was a sliver in the night sky. Not that it had ever been truly dark. There were too many lights here for that, too many lights for the stars to shine and for the wolf to feel at ease.
Fresh air. That’s what she needed.
But standing on the concrete balcony, peering down at the crowds below, didn’t do much to smooth her nerves.
Who lives like this? Surrounded by concrete and noise, traffic and chaos. A barrage of scents and sound. Complete sensory overload. The perfect setting for an attack. The air was thick and humid, but that didn’t stop a shudder from running along her spine.
How could he feel at home here? It was no wonder his wolf was so wary. This place, this life… There was nothing natural about it.
She sat in one of the wicker chairs, drew her knees up, and closed her eyes to concentrate. As hellish as her time with Cyrus had been, he’d taught her many things. One of them was to sift through the garbage, to hone her senses until she found what was important—and what it meant. Here, now, sitting high above the streets with potential threat, it took time for her wolf to do its job.
Beyond drunken foolishness and mayhem, there was nothing to fear from the people celebrating whatever the fuck Fiesta was. There was no ripple in the air that warned of the Others. No scent of Cyrus.
A scent she knew all too well.
Her mind drifted to places it shouldn’t, pulling up things best locked deep inside. His touch. The slice of a blade, deep enough to bleed but too light for lasting damage. His smile. Pure menace. A promise of what he was capable of. His smile was a warning. One that turned her blood cold even now. And his eyes? Colorless, soulless. He was evil.
As much as she longed to shy away from her memories, she couldn’t. Remembering him, the tiny clues she’d learned over the years, would be important when she faced him. She would face him. She would defeat him.
Or die trying.
The shrill ring of the phone set the hair on the back of her neck straight up and her heart thundering. The sky was lightening, streaking pink and gold. How long had she sat here, her mind adrift?
The phone rang again, but she was rooted in place—attempting to lock all thoughts of the Others and Cyrus away before Hollis found her.
“Yes?” His voice, thick with sleep. “Food? Twenty minutes.”
Just the sound of his voice had her insides clenching with pure hunger.
“Wait…” Noise. He was up, moving around. “Call you back.” More noise. The slam of a door against a wall. “Ellen?”
She crossed the balcony, catching sight of her mate in all his naked glory. He was incredible. Muscle and sinew, moving with a predatory grace that demanded respect.
“Fuck.” He growled, spinning, searching, the bathroom. “Ellen?” Green eyes narrowed, body tense—he was hunting. Agitated. For what? One hand ran over his face and through his hair. For a split second, he sagged heavily against the bathroom counter. The rhythm of his pulse was increasing. He pushed off the counter and stalked back into the bedroom, his gaze sweeping the room—frantic. “Fuck,” he whispered, striding from the room.
He was looking for her. Frantic over her. An odd tightness rolled up her stomach and into her chest. The weight of it grew warmer, sweeter, with each passing second.
She’d just stepped into the bedroom when he returned. His wild gaze landed on her. Hands fisted. Breathing labored. She saw so much before he pressed his eyes shut and closed the distance between them. “Where were you?” he asked, gripping her shoulders so tightly she winced. “Dammit.” He glanced at his hands, on her shoulders, and frowned.
He cared. Not just his wolf. Hollis. The man.
“You left.” His words were raw.
And just like that it was impossible to breathe. Or stop herself from touching him. The scrape of his stubble on her palms was oddly comforting. “I didn’t.” She stared up at him, willing him to hear her.
He turned in to her touch and buried his nose against her palm.
The warm tug in her chest was too much for her, too real, too dangerous. “Mal?” She cleared her throat. “He called?”
He nodded, stepping back. “Hungry?” His gaze fell from hers.
“Ravenous,” she answered, hurrying into the bathroom—in need of space. She frowned at her reflection. What did you make us do? But her wolf was too excited to worry over the reality of their new situation. In the mirror, she caught sight of him—standing, stretching, all rippling muscles… She kicked the door shut and turned on the water.
Ten minutes later, they were staring at each other in the elevator. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something but holding back. And he wouldn’t stop looking at her, a look she couldn’t decipher. Was he happy? Irritated? Confused? Or craving her body the way she was craving his?
She was. Desperately. His quick shower had left his hair wet, the scent of it reminding her of all the delectable things he’d done to her body. The nub between her legs pulsed, hot and demanding.
Could he smell her arousal? His expression was so closed and rigid, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Maybe that was for the best.
The elevator doors opened but his eyes never left her, even when he gestured for her to go first. The entire walk from the elevator to the hotel restaurant he watched her. His wolf watched her, the blazing ownership in his vibrant green eyes making food the last thing on her mind.