Chapter Six
Mal glanced back over his shoulder again. Olivia was still following him. Quiet. Too quiet. She was frowning, a deep crease between her brows, and it worried him. He vaguely remembered how it had felt, being newly turned. It was confusing—disorienting.
He’d wanted to save her, not change her. He wasn’t Alpha material—that was all on Finn. No one should lean on him, follow his orders, or look to him for leadership. But now she did, even if she didn’t know it yet. And there was no way to undo it. He hoped she’d shift her loyalty to Finn when they reconnected. But his wolf wasn’t too fond of that idea.
The wolf was perfectly clear what it was after: Olivia. For the first time, Mal couldn’t give his wolf what he wanted, and he knew it was going to make life difficult. Nothing like having someone in your head, pushing, second-guessing, doubting, and making him do things he wouldn’t do on his own.
Like turning Olivia.
No, dammit, he wouldn’t have stood by and let her die. Blaming his wolf was pointless.
All that mattered now was getting somewhere safe soon. Otherwise, they were both as good as dead. He’d like to think they’d left the Others behind, but he knew better. He had to head south, or they’d end up in the ocean. And while there was a hell of a lot of land to cover, there were plenty of Others. If the Others wanted to find him, it wouldn’t be hard to do.
Would they be looking for Olivia, too? That was a separate question. He’d like to think she was a victim of circumstance versus a specific target, but he couldn’t be sure. He wouldn’t search Olivia’s memories, even if it might explain her abduction. Violating her privacy and trust didn’t sit well with him or his wolf.
Neither did her unusual silence.
“Your brother,” he said, waiting for her to catch up to him. “Why would he deal with werewolves?”
She frowned at him. “He didn’t.”
“The men keeping us in those cages? The man that stabbed you? Werewolf. Like us.”
“Right.” Her eyes widened, the sheen of tears startling him. “Werewolves. Like us.”
“Jesus.” He’d made her cry. “Don’t cry.”
She wiped frantically, sniffing and turning to hide her face. “I’m trying to stop.”
Way to make things worse. He was an asshole, but sometimes he forgot just how good at it he was. Considering her life had been ripped to shreds in a forty-eight-hour period, crying was a normal reaction. He could try to be less of a dick. “You can cry,” he murmured.
“Oh good,” she said, sniffing, her breathing shallow and broken.
He tried to turn her, to hold her, but she shrugged him off. “Olivia?”
She shook her head, knocking his hand away a second time.
“Dammit,” he growled, tugging her into his arms and holding her close. “Cry.” He closed his eyes, her silent sobs chipping away at his forced indifference. Guilt crushed in on him, forcing him to explain. “If I hadn’t bitten you—turned you—you would have died. My wolf wouldn’t let you die.”
She clung to him, her soft curves and sweet scent a temptation he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to ignore. But he held her until the tears ended and her breath was coming in hiccups.
“She likes your wolf,” Olivia said.
“She who?” he asked.
“M-my wolf.” Her voice wobbled then.
“Shit,” he growled out. “Tell her he’s an asshole.”
Olivia laughed. “We both know that’s not true.” She wasn’t crying anymore, but she wasn’t letting go of him.
Then again, his hold didn’t seem to be loosening, either.
“Mal?” she whispered.
“Olivia?” He buried his nose in her hair to draw her scent deep.
“Can I ask you some questions?”
“Some?” he asked, willing himself to let go. His hold didn’t ease.
“Some,” she repeated, her arms sliding around his waist.
He liked her sigh, the way her breath fanned across his chest. “Two.”
“Two?” she repeated.
“You can ask me two questions,” he clarified. They needed to keep moving. If he could find a phone—then what? Was he going to call Finn? Like the bastard would come. Chances are he was knee-deep in puppies and too busy making more to give a shit about him.
“Do you have a mate?” she asked.
Mal’s brain came to a screeching halt. “No.” They were not talking about mates. His wolf, selfish fucker, was ready and willing to talk about it. Mal, however, would never do it—never. “Next?”
There was a slight hesitation before she asked, “Will I ever see my brother again?”
Mal drew in a deep breath, fighting his wolf until his hold eased on her. He didn’t like how empty his arms felt, how cold the air was. But he stepped back, ignoring the fact that he took her hand in his. “No.”
“But?”
“He’s connected with the Others. Until we know why and how, you’d be putting yourself in danger.”
She was staring at him. “The Others?”
“Two.”
“Mal, please.” She tugged his hand.
He looked down, studying the way her fingers threaded through his, locking them together. Like his bite. She had no idea she was his pack now, or what that meant. She could have a family, children, and a life—but if he called, wanted her to do something, she’d have to obey. They were forever tangled up in each other. She should know about the Others.
“The Others are our enemies. The cage. Your kidnapping. The guy that stabbed you. They will hunt us down and hurt us.” He spoke clearly. “They know how to hurt, trust me.”
“I do.” She nodded.
Those two words gave him pause. She squeezed his hand, smiling.
“Can you tell me where we’re going?”
“Too many questions.” He smiled back.
“Dear God, it’s just not fair,” she spoke so softly he had to lean forward to hear her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He frowned. “Tell me.”
Her eyes went round. “You’re gorgeous. When you smile, I-I think about that kiss. I want you to touch me.” She tugged her hand free, her hands fisted at her side.
He stared at her, then her mouth. Her words had an immediate impact, making him hard and throbbing. “We need to keep going,” he ground out.
His wolf didn’t want to move. His wolf wanted to do exactly what she’d said. To touch her. Fine, he’d appease them both. He stepped closer, taking her hand in his—touching her. The contact of her skin against his felt too good. Too natural. He cleared his throat and held their hands up between them.
Her slow smile weakened his resolve to stop there. She nodded, squeezing his hand.
“You ready now?” he asked.
They walked for a good ten minutes before she asked, “Mal?”
He grinned. “Olivia?”
“Do you think my brother knows they’re werewolves?” she asked. “I’m not sure he did. Sort of hard to believe this is real.”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “The Others use intimidation as incentive. I guess it depends on how in he is with them, what sort of goods he’s supplying them. I’d think showing him what they are and what they’re capable of would keep him in line.” He glanced at her. “Any way to find out what he was getting them?”
“I’d need a name to start with,” she said, looking at him.
The Others tarnished everything. Just telling her his name felt wrong. “Cyrus.” Mal spat out the word.
Olivia paused. “Cyrus White?” she asked. “Creepy guy with pale eyes and light blond hair and a problem respecting personal space? Chase called him the Norwegian giant.”
The hair on Mal’s arms went up. “You’ve seen him?”
Olivia shot him a perplexed look. “We ran into him when I was touring Northwestern. Had dinner with him.” She grew quiet, thoughtful.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“Chase was scared of him.” She moved closer to Mal. “Too scared to turn down his dinner invitation. He wanted me to pretend I was sick to get out of it. Then he changed his mind and wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom by myself, or even leave his side. It was a long night.”
Mal hated Chase a little less. The guy was still in serious trouble when they met, but he’d tried to keep her safe from Cyrus. Initially. “Was it a long time ago?”
“Six months,” she said. “We’d stopped by a bar to have some drinks and listen to some local music before dinner. Anyway, he was there.”
“At the bar?”
She nodded. “Chase totally freaked out, spilled his beer. They made small talk, and Cyrus offered to take us to dinner.” She stopped. “Chase monopolized the conversation, I remember that. Stepping on my toes when I was going to talk. Cyrus gave me his card and told me if I ever needed work or help with school to call him.”
Mal’s gut churned. She’d been in the same room with the man that had skinned him, beaten him, and ripped his throat out. She’d been having dinner with a monster, defenseless. “What did you do?”
“Chase told me Northwestern wasn’t the place for me, and we left that night instead of the next day. I sort of wrote the thing off and assumed Mr. White was just some weird eccentric guy.” She shrugged.
“They never brought up business?”
She stared off at the horizon. “The only thing I remember was something about Russian dolls.” She stopped, smiling. “That’s it! I remember now, that’s why I thought he was super creepy. He’s a doll dealer or something, buys and sells dolls from all over the world. The better condition, the more money. He spent thirty minutes talking about a sealed, early-edition fashion doll and how in demand they were. It was just weird.”
“Dolls?” Mal repeated, thoroughly confused. “Cyrus had you kidnapped because your brother screwed up a doll order?” The collecting part, Mal believed. But whatever Cyrus was buying and selling from her brother, it wasn’t dolls.
...
They’d been huddled across the highway for an hour, her stomach growling so loudly she worried they’d attract bears. But then she remembered what Mal had done to the last bear and decided they were okay.
“How do you know if there’s danger?” she whispered.
“You tune in,” he said, clearly searching for the right words. “You’ll feel it. It’s like a ripple in the air. A wave. When a wolf is near, you’ll know.”
“Even from here?” she asked.
He nodded.
“The scent says whether it’s your pack or not?” she asked.
He nodded.
“But we’re waiting?” She’d learned that if she just kept asking questions, she’d find out what she needed to know. “Even though you don’t smell anything and there’s no ripple in the air.”
He nodded.
“Because…?” She waited.
“You,” he said. “They don’t know you made it. That you’re a wolf.”
She sat back against the rock. At this point, she didn’t want to acknowledge that last part. He could be the wolf. The bad guys could be wolves. But she wasn’t. She was starving, and she could have eaten an hour ago. There was more to it. Something else was preventing him from going to that diner. But what? Whatever it was, maybe he needed to do it alone. “I’ll wait here. That’s easy.” She smiled.
He frowned.
“What?”
He shook his head.
“If I’m here then you don’t have to—”
“Then you’re unprotected,” he argued.
She stared at him, flushing from head to toe. With all the sensory changes taking place in her body, it was a relief to know attraction and affection hadn’t changed. Well, it had, but in a good way. It was amplified. And right now, the fact that he worried about her filled her with pure joy. “I’ll be fine.”
He growled, staring back at the truck stop.
“Tell me this is weird for you, too, please,” she said.
“What?” he asked, not turning to look at her.
She wasn’t sure how to put it into words. There was a connection between the two of them now. Her wolf told her part of it was the bite. So it was nothing really, but it was totally something. “Me and you,” she managed.
“Yes,” he agreed.
She giggled.
He looked at her then, smiling—and taking her breath away. She could almost feel his lips against hers, almost remember the way he tasted. Her breath hitched as she stared at his mouth, the ache in her stomach startling her. She shook her head.
He groaned. “You’re thinking about what you said earlier?”
She kept shaking her head. Yes, that was exactly what she was thinking. But she didn’t want to admit it. “No. I’m thinking about something else.”
“You are?” he asked.
She stopped shaking her head. “No.” It was a whisper.
“You can’t lie to me a little?”
“I can’t. Lying is the worst possible thing a person can do.” She managed a nervous laugh. “You want me to lie to you?”
He shook his head. “No.”
His dark eyes drew her to him. She liked being close to him, even if the air was thinner somehow. She tore her gaze from his, fighting for breath. “I won’t lie to you,” she whispered, glancing his way.
He was staring at her.
“Any change? Ripple? Wave-thingy?”
He shook his head. “All clear.”
“Then let’s get food. If we don’t eat soon, I might just attack you.”
Mal grabbed her wrist and led her to the highway. By the time they were inside the diner, his posture was ramrod stiff, his don’t-mess-with-me expression giving the waitress pause to even seat them. When she finally did, he asked for a booth in the back corner.
“Stop glaring at people,” she whispered, hugging the long coat tight. “No wolves, no worries.” She hoped that was the case. They’d been walking all day, her need for a cheeseburger, french fries, and a milk shake was out of control. “Besides, the way you’re acting will only draw more attention.”
He glanced at her then, cocking an eyebrow.
She smiled. Tension rolled off him. Should she be worried, too? Her wolf was quiet—oddly so. “Thanks for feeding me.”
He shook his head, but he rolled his head and blew out a long, slow breath.
They placed their orders and sat in silence. The longer the silence stretched, the faster his tension returned.
“What do you do?” she asked him. “When you’re not saving me?”
He shook his head. “This and that.”
“If you give actual answers, I won’t have to ask you millions of questions.”
“You’ve definitely exceeded two.” He accepted the water the waitress placed on the table with a nod.
Olivia stared at the massive burger with pure delight. She took a bite and groaned at the delicious flavors tickling her taste buds.
He sat back, watching her with an odd look on his face.
“What’s wrong?” She dabbed her mouth with a napkin and swallowed. “If you’re not going to eat, you could talk?”
He ate a french fry.
If he wasn’t in the mood to talk, she’d eat. “I’m starving. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry in my entire life.” She shrugged and took another large bite of her burger.
He grinned. “You’re getting ready for tomorrow night.”
She swallowed, taking a long pull off her chocolate milk shake. “Yum. What’s tomorrow night? Oh, the moon.” She ate a french fry, her enthusiasm dampened. As much as she was enjoying what was happening between the two of them, there was that whole other thing. Being a werewolf. Being a monster. That was her life now. “It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?”
He gave a vague, nod-shake of his head. “Nothing you can’t handle.”
“Are you saying I’m tough?” She ate two fries and picked up her burger. Even his compliments didn’t ease the knot of apprehension in her gut.
“Yes.”
She smiled slightly, her mind spinning again. Upset or not, it wasn’t affecting her appetite. Her plate was empty and she accepted the offer of apple pie and ice cream without batting an eye.
Mal opted for coffee, black, his gaze bouncing around the room. He was agitated. From the images she’d glimpsed in his memories, there was an obvious cause. His pack. Their betrayal. That he might need them now would be hard to accept. She was having a hard time with it, and she didn’t even know them—not personally.
“There’s a pay phone. Are we calling them?” she asked.
He focused on his coffee cup.
“They’re your pack,” she whispered. “I feel it.”
“They think I’m dead.”
She studied the hard set of his jaw, the tightness bracketing his mouth and eyes. They’d hurt him deeply, but he was too proud to say as much. “So does Chase,” she murmured. Her brother. His pack. “Thinks I’m dead, I mean. Maybe we should run away together? Someplace sunny and tropical? Do werewolves do okay in tropical climates? Or would the Others follow us?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “What is it about silence that scares you?”
She opened her mouth then closed it, refusing to take the bait. She could be quiet. But her wolf chose that moment to argue. Her wolf said Mal liked hearing her voice, that it chased away the hurt in his heart.
“I think you should call them,” she said. “Let them know you’re alive.”
Mal stared at her for so long she worried she’d crossed some line. It was hard to accept they’d only known each other for two days—still harder to accept that in another twenty-four hours her world would never be the same.