Chapter Seven
Hollis’s world was upside down. After years of living carefully, deliberately, he was treading water. While he’d yet to irrefutably determine the cause, there had been a fundamental shift in…everything. One thing he knew: Ellen was at the center of it. What started as playful teasing was now seriously messing with his head, his body, and his self-control.
She’d poked and prodded until his frustration made him snap. It was a power play for her, something she seemed to need. When he snapped, she responded. Her smile, an authentic smile, was a rarity. And something he’d begun to look forward to. How or when this had begun to alleviate his anxiety, he didn’t know. But it did. Or it had. Until the shower, until he could no longer deny he wanted more than just her companionship. And while he still enjoyed her smiles—he was having a harder time with her teasing.
Every bit of him was acutely aware of her. Inescapably so. She was driving him crazy. The confusing part was how much he liked it.
The teasing and touching, the long stares and brush of her body against him. His body reacted. Hard, throbbing, and needing release. A man could only take so many cold showers before they stopped being effective. And if she kept playing with him like this, it was only a matter of time before she saw just how much he was reacting to her.
What would she do then? Would she still tease and laugh? Part of him didn’t want to know.
Now, with that gleam in her eyes and the lopsided grin on her full lips, he was caught in her spell. He breathed in, drawing her scent in, and putting his dick at full attention. Damn, but he was doing his best not to stare at her.
And having no success at all.
Her eyes, one green and one blue, held him captive. Mesmerizing. To him, she was quite possibly the most fascinating creature he’d ever met. Of course, her array of tight tank tops and low-slung black utility pants revealed the curves and dips of her incredible body. And that fact that she never, ever, wore a bra. Her nipples pressed tight against the thin knit, begging for attention. Like now. Tempting him. Driving home just how little control he had over his own body.
But he couldn’t ignore the never-ending map of scars that covered most of her body. Flaunting her survivor status, defiantly refusing to be a victim. To him, her scars and her strength defined and enhanced her beauty. And reminded him she’d been through enough. He didn’t want to add any scars, internal or otherwise.
She would laugh at that. Him? Being able to hurt her? She’d find that hilarious.
A small smile crossed her lips. “You think too much,” she whispered, her fingers sliding through his hair.
“So I’ve heard.” He swallowed.
She sighed. “Well, tell me, Hollis, have you made any new discoveries since I fell asleep?”
He shook his head.
“No.” She laughed. “Of course not. I feel certain you could recite every word and note in that file without prompt.” She yawned, stretching her arms behind her and pulling her shirt taut. “Aren’t you tired? Craving a fluffy bed, soft sheets, and warm blankets to burrow under?”
At the moment, the last thing he was feeling was tired. He was headed to a cold shower. Possibly a frigging ice bath if she didn’t give him a rest. The tight tips of her breasts strained against her shirt. Making his pants unbearably tight. He cleared his throat and shrugged. He would have gone to bed two hours ago, but she’d fallen asleep. And he couldn’t leave her alone.
For all her bravado, he knew she didn’t sleep well. Waking her up had become one of his many responsibilities. He didn’t mind. If he could pull her out of whatever hell waited for her when she drifted off to sleep, he would. Besides, he liked being close to her. He’d stopped asking himself why since none of the answers made sense. “I wanted to review it again,” he mumbled. “Sometimes the eye needs distance to see something new.”
She glanced at the file, reaching forward so that her breast brushed against his shoulder. Her scent slammed into him and stole his focus. His baser instincts had never interfered with his work and focus before. Now, his baser instincts were constantly on the verge of taking control. And it pissed him off.
“To my unscientifically trained eye, they look well. Jessa is growing stronger. And Diana, pink and round.” She sighed. “Does your learned opinion differ? Baby Diana and Jessa are doing well, are they not? No need to worry there, so what are you looking for?”
She was right. After the weeks they’d spent poring over the data prior to Jessa’s delivery, it was nice to know Jessa and the baby were no longer in harm’s way. As long as the Others weren’t part of the equation. “Her bloodwork is perfectly normal now. The increased hormones and enzymes of her pregnancy are gone—along with the altered proteins brought on by Diana’s chromosomal deviations.”
“Deviation?” she asked, grinning. If she’d move one step back, he could turn around, put space between them. She didn’t. “Is it truly impossible for you to accept how special Finn’s children are, Hollis? First Oscar. Now Diana. They will be as strong as their father—possibly stronger. If Mal would breed Olivia, I have no doubt her pregnancy would be easy and the child just as strong and healthy as Finn’s.”
Hollis shook his head. They wanted two very different things. She wanted the wolves to thrive, he wanted them to no longer exist. “We’ve covered this. Mal has no interest in breeding with Olivia.”
Ellen sniffed, grinning widely. “He has little interest in anything.” Her brows rose. “But he has no interest in fatherhood at the moment.”
“That’s what I meant.” He ran a hand through his hair. Between Mal and Olivia, and Alpha Finn and his mate, Jessa—the number of their pack could double in no time. But no one wanted that. Growing a family was one thing. Growing a pack was another.
Ellen might think shape-shifting was some great honor, but he did not. This world—werewolves, full moons, and violent pack feuds—wasn’t something they’d chosen. How the hell could they relish bringing a new generation into their world? He couldn’t imagine it. He had one goal: a cure for the infection in their blood might give them a chance at a normal live. Well, relatively normal.
He’d begun testing shortly after being infected. Every vaccine and trial had led to nothing but frustration. He had every resource available to him, yet he’d nothing to show for it. That was why he was looking through her file again. Hope. Resolve. And growing desperation.
Ellen studied him, making no effort to pretend otherwise. When she was done, she shook her head.
What was she looking for? Thinking? Did she want him to ask? Or was this another way of teasing him? He shouldn’t let her get in his head and press the buttons. He shouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He pressed his lips together, watching as her eyes narrowed slightly. Now what? Dammit. “What?” he asked.
“You should find a mate,” she said, tilting her head. “It might help you relax. Smile a little.”
He laughed. “Relax? Sure. Because nothing says relaxation like having a mate. Bonding. Relationship. Commitment. I don’t think so.” He would never do that to himself or the woman he cared for. It was selfish and foolish. He’d like to think he was neither. “There’s important work to be done first. I can’t waste my time on anything else.” He didn’t want the distractions that Finn and Mal were saddled with since finding their mates. They couldn’t make a decision without worrying over Jessa and Olivia.
“You’re right. A bond requires work and time.” She paused, running a hand along her neck and down her shirt front. Her soft moan made the hair on the back of his neck stand tall. “No mate then. But sex? Mate or no, Hollis, everyone has time for sex. When there’s no hunt or fight to be had, sex is the best way to keep the wolf tame.” She leaned forward, her breath tickling his ear. “If it’s done well, you might even make time for it. Sex would do you some good.”
She was a hairbreadth away. So close. Close enough. All he had to do was turn and his lips would be on the skin of her neck. He stared at her neck. The thrum of her pulse. Her sweet scent. The brush of her hair on his forehead.
“It feels good.” She pressed her hand against the side of his face. “Don’t you want to feel good?”
She had no idea what she was doing to him. Or did she? He cleared his throat, refusing to be distracted by her gaze or the softness of her touch. “I will feel better when I’ve found a cure.”
She sighed, straightening. “When your wolf breaks free, it will be interesting to watch.”
“We’re not talking about this again.” He meant it. Her preoccupation with his wolf’s existence only reinforced the fact that he didn’t have one. If he did, he’d know it.
Finn, Mal, Dante, and Anders all had an obvious relationship with their wolves. Each of them were separate, strong and capable creatures that lived inside their human skins. For the most part, they were a team, working together. Apparently, relationships between man and wolf could be complicated. Mal remarked on more than one occasion that he wanted his wolf to “shut the fuck up.” But that was Mal. Olivia said she enjoyed the camaraderie she and her wolf shared.
The wolf was each individual’s guardian and a guardian of the pack. When needed, the wolf took over to do whatever man couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do. That, Hollis envied. Doing his part to protect his pack when threatened. With Cyrus and his pack of Others waiting in the shadows, the threat was always there. Wolf or not, Hollis wanted the man, and his wolf, to suffer and die.
And a cure would be able do that. If he didn’t let her distract him, that is. “With any luck, I’ll find a cure before that happens.” He spun on his stool, his knee brushing her hip as he did so.
Her soft growl told him all he needed to know.
“You cling to your facts and your fancy computers, Dr. Hollis. But you know we—our species—cannot be quantified. Diana should not exist. Jessa should not have survived. No human gestation was so hurried. But they did. Both of them. Perfect and healthy. Because there is no genetic deviation. They—we—are meant to be. What if we are important? Part of the ecosystem. Necessary.” Ellen’s calm assertion that Jessa would deliver safely had been the only reason Finn had held on to his sanity.
While he’d been considering all outcomes, making hypothesis, and coming up with treatment plans for a variety of outcomes, Ellen had pointed out flaws, inconsistencies, and remained maddeningly confident that, for no logical or possible reason, Jessa and the baby would be fine.
And she’d been right.
He’d never been so relieved to be wrong. But now that they’d no reason to work side by side, Hollis was…disappointed. She’d kept him on his toes, challenged his every word, and provided insight beyond his realm of reality. He wasn’t happy Tess was ill, but he was happy Finn had turned down Ellen’s offer to return Tess to the Others. Her nightmares told him what she wouldn’t. And they gutted him. Infuriated him. Ellen wasn’t meant to beg. But whatever the fuck Cyrus and Byron had done to her had her begging. Pleading. And screaming. Wolf or no, Hollis’s blood boiled with the need for action and justice.
It was only a matter time before she asked to leave again. What would Finn do? Even if he wasn’t concerned over Ellen’s welfare, how could he let her return to the Others knowing all she knew?
“Nothing?” she asked.
He’d been lost in thought and she thought he was racking his brain for some suitable argument. The wolves—part of a necessary ecosystem? No logic there. None. What possible purpose could monsters serve in the real world. And, sadly, this was the real world. But he was too tired to launch into another debate with her.
“I didn’t realize there was an acceptable response.”
She was studying him, looking smug. And sexy as hell. The strap of her tank had slipped off her shoulder.
“There is. You admit you cannot cure what we are.” Each word dripped exasperation. “For a man of science, your inability to see facts is troubling. We are what we are, Hollis.”
“We are what we are because Finn had an accident.” Her nearness, and that damn strap, were taking a toll on his patience.
“An accident?” Ellen shook her head. “You don’t believe that. Finn was meant to find that bone, meant to start this new bloodline.”
“Meant to? Then there must have been a purpose. Any ideas on that? Something important, considering what we’ve all be through. It has to be more than just challenging Cyrus?” The idea of being fated werewolves was too abstract for consideration. The facts were simple. Finn was impaled by an old bone. Whatever DNA entered his bloodstream had changed him. Infected and genetically altered him. In a fevered state, he’d attacked Mal, Dante, Anders, and Hollis—infecting them all. Their reluctant pack was born.
“Your science was born from magic and mysticism. They are often the same thing.” She dismissed him with the wave of her hand. “Fate or an accident. What is done cannot be undone.”
He glanced at her, noting the slight dip between her brows as she pushed aside the folklore book he’d all but memorized and riffled through his papers. “Are you looking for something in particular?” he asked, frustrated by the mess she was making.
“No, not really.” She paused, glancing at him with that small, teasing smile on her lips. “But I know you don’t like it when I touch your things.”
He sat back, stunned by her confession. And amused.
“You can keep studying and making your notes.” She tapped his papers, but her gaze met his. “I need to do something. I’m restless. My wolf is restless.”
Which instantly reminded him of the shower. She’d been restless then, too.
“And since I know that you’ll say no to my first suggestion, you’ll have to come with me for a run?”
No again? Fuck it. He knew exactly what her first suggestion would be. So did his dick. And that strap, the exposed skin, and hard nipples straining against her shirt wasn’t helping. “Fine,” he said, standing and backing away from her. Space helped—a little. A run was a good idea. But she wasn’t allowed to run on her own, so this was her asking for permission, to let her wolf out. He pushed off his stool. “I can’t keep up.”
“I know,” she said. “But you always try.”
…
The night air was cold and bracing, whispering across her skin and teasing the wolf within. Her lungs emptied, preparing for what was to come—craving it.
“You want to talk about your dream?” Hollis asked, following her into the woods.
“No.” She glanced at him. “Why would I want to talk about it?”
“When Olivia was having nightmares about Cyrus and the Others, you told her the dreams were important.”
She stopped walking then, scowling at him. He wasn’t just watching her—he was also listening to her? “That conversation had nothing to do with you.”
He sighed, irritated. “If it was a private conversation, perhaps you should have had it in a private place?”
Irritation faded to amusement. Hollis and his infallible logic. “Perhaps.”
“You’ve made friends with Olivia. And Jessa.”
She had—and regretted it. Her time with them was coming to an end. She had a part to play to ensure the species was safe. And they would survive. This was right. New life. True loyalty. Respect and love. Finn and his pack would restore honor and nobility to the wolves. The joy of baby Diana’s birth almost choked out the flame of her vengeance.
Almost.
It pleased her to know peace was possible. After she killed Cyrus, Finn’s pack would go on to live many long and happy years beneath the full moon. Even if she wasn’t around to see it.
Her wolf pushed, eager to be free, impatient to put space between her and the cabin. For now, her plans, thoughts, and worries could wait. Her wolf wanted only to run.
“Your dreams. Are they from the past? Or of what might—”
She stopped again, spinning to face him. “My dreams are my business, Hollis. I will make an effort not to trouble you with them again.” The pity in his eyes sliced through her. She neither needed nor wanted his sympathy.
Anger, irritation, and amusement were common between them. When working, they took care to consider the other’s viewpoint and opinion. His mind was sharp while his methods were maddening. These were things she’d come to expect, even value, where Hollis was concerned.
But not pity. Or this new, and alarming, spark between them. He’d been right. She’d crossed a line in the shower. Her wolf had approved. Far too much. Which was dangerous.
The sooner she left the better.
The wolf’s frustration took over, demanding she shift. Now. She tugged her shirt up and over her head, then tossed it at Hollis. The air on her bare chest was more divine than the touch of a lover. She shivered. Then again, it had been a lifetime since she’d had a lover. In seconds, she was naked, her body taut with excitement. Nothing was as liberating as letting the wolf run.
Poor Hollis stood, frozen, holding her things, forever trapped.
“This is what you’re missing,” she said, stretching her arms over her head and letting the cold night air caress her.
But he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring up, overhead at the brilliant night sky. If it had been anyone else, she’d assume it was for modesty’s sake, but not Hollis. He was a man of science. Except for their run-in in the shower, he saw her as a scientific oddity. One to study and poke, question and prod, until he could classify and label her. Order was important to him. It’s how he lived his life—infuriating as that was. She studied him, closely, noting just how rigid his posture was and how tight his jaw was clenched.
“You never long to shift?” she whispered. “Not even a little?”
His gaze found hers instantly and it made her smile. How could he say he had no wolf when his senses said otherwise? She saw him, there, blazing in his gaze. Felt him. Surely he felt the wolf? His hearing. His sense of smell. And his vision—better in the dark than the bright light of day. His wolf. Taking care of him, part of him.
His eyes narrowed. “Why does it matter?”
“My wolf is my partner. As is yours. I cannot imagine my life without her. It’s a simple question.” And her wolf craved an answer.
“I suppose.” He blew out a slow breath. “From a purely scientific standpoint.”
She covered her mouth, but her laugh slipped out anyway. “Purely scientific?” Even now, whispering in the dark, he insisted on fighting his instincts. What a foolish, beautiful man. Instinct was key to her wolf. Right now, instinct demanded she touch him. She stepped closer, pressing her hand to his cheek. “There is so much more to our world, Hollis. If only you could see that and embrace it.”
Her wolf longed to show him. Maybe it was understanding the way his mind worked or how much he would appreciate every tiny detail and sensory experience. “What about your instinct, Hollis? The pull inside? You feel it, science or instinct, call it what you will.”
For an instant, he leaned into her hand, surprising them both.
“Go run.” He stepped away from her, the edge to his voice unmistakable. “I’ll follow.”
She lingered, staring at him, tempted to argue. But her wolf was done with arguing.
The change was quick. Years of practice eased each bone realignment, muscle dislocation, and shifting of internal organs. Giving in made all the difference. Anticipating, being fearful or timid, turned a perfectly natural event into something painful and traumatic. When her skin was covered with a thick gray coat and her claws sank into the ground beneath her feet, she stretched. It was so good.
“You make that look so damn easy,” he murmured.
She rubbed against him, throwing her full weight against his thighs and almost knocking him to the ground. He laughed, pushing her off of him.
She grabbed the waist of his pants with her teeth and tugged, hoping he’d follow her.
“I’m coming,” he mumbled, still smiling.
She shoved her head under his hand, groaning at the back of her throat as he rubbed along her head and neck with heavy, sure strokes. His touch was heaven. Her wolf would gladly stay under his hand.
He chuckled.
Ellen rubbed against him again, then sprinted into the towering pines of the forest. Cyrus had never let her run. If he had, it had been to train the pack to hunt—her the prey.
This was different. Even with Hollis tailing her, she felt free. Her wolf refuge sprawled, offering the pack a perfect place to run and explore. The native wolf pack accepted them, submitting to their superior size and strength. Ellen wasn’t as large as the wolves in Finn’s pack, but the local wolves still recognized her as something to respect and, possibly, fear.
Sadly, they shied away from her, leaving her with no one to run with. Anders and Dante were far too wary of her to ever play. Mal had Olivia. And Finn was Alpha, play wasn’t something he did.
Still, she ran and ran, stretching her legs and filling her lungs with the fresh night air. She circled back to Hollis now and then, bumping into him and knocking him to his knees before tearing off again.
Again and again, she ran—nosing a rabbit free from the underbrush and chasing it until it froze in abject terror. She had no desire to kill it, so she lay still until the poor animal made a mad dash for cover.
She circled back to Hollis, sneaking up behind him this time. She plowed over him, glancing back to see him push himself up and off the ground. If she could have laughed, she would have. Her wolf barked, whimpered, and ran on. There was a path that led to the summit of the closest peak. Her wolf took the long way, climbing and leaping, crawling under fallen tree limbs and nosing through moss and ground cover. When she reached the top, her wolf was peaceful.
Eventually Hollis joined her. “You don’t play well with others.” He sat on a boulder, breathing hard.
She crossed to him, flopping into his lap.
“And you have less respect for a man’s personal space as a wolf.” But his hands buried themselves in her fur all the same.
Her wolf was up to no good.
Ellen realized it the minute Hollis touched her. The full body strokes were far more comforting than they should be. Every inch of her relaxed and welcomed his touch. Each stroke down her spine, rub along her side, or deep massage of her neck was soothing. Her wolf was calmed. Content.
Stupid animal. Her wolf ignored her insult and rested her head on Hollis’s knee.
Yes, they were lonely. Very lonely. But she’d been lonely for a long time.
Why was she reacting like this? It hardly seemed fair that Hollis would be the one to draw such a reaction from her wolf. Now? When hunting Cyrus should be the only thing that mattered.
She looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes.
He was handsome. Green eyes. Thick copper hair. A full lower lip she’d recently spent hours contemplating. And his body…pure perfection. Every last inch. And there were oh so many impressive inches. He was honed for battle—if need be. Dreaming of him, waking up tangled in the sheets and aching for release, was far better than waking up trembling in fear. For that distraction, she and her wolf were thankful.
When the wolf forced his way out, and he would, Hollis would understand what he was—and how fundamental his animal was to his being. What would he be like? Hunting? Braced for battle? Ready to face the monsters hunting them?
Cyrus was a monster, but he understood that. And abused it. At first, she’d simply reviled him, in time she’d come to fear him. He was twisted beyond redemption—so twisted that his pack suffered. Sickness set in, slowly at first. Her knowledge of herbs and medicines were useless against it. While Cyrus demanded she find a cure, she suspected there was none. Cyrus had forgotten what it was to be a wolf. His actions had tainted their bloodlines and doomed his pack. Those turned were dying within five to seven years of being bitten. Considering it was the pack, not Cyrus, that suffered, the sickness was a further injustice.
Hollis ran his hand along her side, and with a sigh, he leaned back against another rock. If her wolf turned to him, there were sound reasons. He was different from the rest. His mind and his candor. He saw her. With Hollis, she knew exactly where she stood. A gift after living so long under Cyrus roof as an Other. And he treated her with respect, not suspicion. Even if he was foolish for fighting back his wolf.
Maybe she could help with that. Since Finn was keeping her here, she and her wolf would do whatever it took to unleash his wolf. She, and her wolf, couldn’t wait to get started.