Chapter Ten
The next three days passed in a dreamy haze. Despite his concerns, Cage stayed with her. When her storage container arrived, he insisted on unloading it. All she had to do was give him directions. Most went into the empty dining room, so she could sort them later, except for the three boxes they unpacked right away. All books, and Cage inspected them with interest.
They did go for the drive she’d wanted, then a spontaneous picnic involving fried chicken and Chinese food. The combination sounded terrible, until they’d picked it all up and Cage took over the driving. They ate on a rocky cliff overlooking the river—she had no idea such views existed in the area. It was stunning, with a perfect starry sky above, the city lights in the distance, and the sound of the water faintly underscoring their meal.
Another stop—to score more condoms—before they made it home and ended up entwined in her bed. She hadn’t been sure about the furniture when she moved in, but she was fairly certain she wanted to hang onto the bed, even if she had to put it in storage when she headed overseas again.
On their fourth day together, they visited home improvement stores. She had an idea for what she wanted to do. She worried that poring over samples would bore him, but he’d disappeared for twenty minutes. He returned with fancy lattes and sandwiches, then sat down and reviewed what she’d already looked at before offering his opinion.
She’d never had so much fun picking out paint colors, wood flooring, carpet, and, finally, new windows and doors. The latter pair would be installed last, after she did the work to the interior. Bathroom fixtures actually proved the easiest—the master bath had the most modern and the two smaller bathrooms needed specific types. By the time they left the home store, her bank account was considerably lighter, and they’d arranged to take delivery by the following Monday.
On their way out, she’d been almost giddy with buyer’s remorse. Thankfully, Cage distracted her. He took her out to dinner at a local Mexican restaurant complete with a Mariachi band that he tipped handsomely to serenade her. From the food to the romantic setting, it went a long way toward soothing her nerves.
Their fifth day landed on a Friday, and Bianca spent half the day nursing a headache while Cage helped her go through her boxes. “We can take a break if you want,” she suggested, rubbing the back of her neck. Weird how everything kind of ached today. Then again, maybe she’d been overdoing it. But she hated pain medication and how loopy it left her.
“If you want,” Cage said, glanced at her. A tight line formed between his brows as he studied her. “You’re in pain.”
“I’ve got a headache,” she admitted. “Maybe it’s the dust off the boxes or the fact that we’ve been doing this for hours.” She really had no idea what she’d collected over the years. Most of the time when she returned to the States, she’d brought mementos and other items, then boxed them up and added them to her storage before she flew out again. “I just didn’t realize how much junk I had.”
“It’s not junk,” he scolded, as he rose and carried a quilt over. It was a hand-sewn gift she’d received. Setting it on her lap, Cage slipped behind her and then he set his incredibly warm hands against her bare shoulders. With gentle, firm strokes he began working his thumbs into the knots crowding along her trapezius and deltoids.
A groan escaped her when he found a particularly unpleasant one.
“I’m going to put some pressure here. Just breathe through it,” he warned her, then dug his thumbs in. The constant pressure sent white-hot sensations along her back and up into her skull. “Breathe.” The order reverberated through her. “In through the nose, and out through the mouth.”
Obeying his command proved easier than she expected, and with every breath the pain eased.
“That’s it. Breathing relaxes you, it helps the knot give and then…”
Relief swamped her, and she let out a shaky exhale. “Better.”
“Good.” He rubbed the sore spots gently, stroking away the irritation. Every caress brought more soothing warmth as he worked his way to her neck. Another groan worked loose from her.
“You can do that forever,” she murmured, soaking up the care.
His chuckle washed over her as he continued the massage. Leaning back into his touch, she let her eyes close. “Tell me about the quilt.”
Still hugging the buttery soft fabric, she sighed. “A lovely grandmother in Madagascar made it for me. She’d lost both of her children and their spouses during a cyclone, but she was certain her grandchildren had survived. I helped her find them and reunited the family. She came by the base camp a few days later and insisted I take this. They had very little after the storm. It washed away homes, livelihoods, everything—and she took the time to make me this. I’m pretty sure some of the pieces are from clothes they owned. She hand-sewed it. I didn’t want to take it when they had so little…”
“But you didn’t want to insult her, either,” he finished for her, understanding punctuating his words.
“Gifts are important in a lot of cultures. Refusing a gift is even worse than spitting on people in some places. I just wish I could have done more for her.” They’d been stretched on resources, providing food to the shelters. With so many homes to rebuild, they’d had to rely on government assistance in addition to humanitarian aid. When an earthquake rocked Turkey, collapsing several buildings, she’d been retasked and hadn’t been able to stay and see what happened to the grandmother and her family.
“You found her grandchildren. I think you did plenty for her.” Although he didn’t tell her she shouldn’t feel bad, she appreciated his attempt at cheering her up. “You know what we need?”
“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me. You’re very good at this.” At taking care of her. Of finding ways to make her smile. They’d had a little under a week together, yet she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. No matter how hard she tried not to fall in too deep with him, she plummeted.
“Am I getting predictable?” He braced the nape of her neck with his hand. The careful caress put her in a vulnerable position, but she leaned into the strength of his grip and tilted her head. Meeting his gaze, she smiled.
“No, I think it means I’m trusting you.” If she hadn’t been looking at him so closely, she might have missed the tightness at the corners of his mouth or the hint of a frown. But his expression gentled, and he pressed his lips to her forehead.
“Thank you,” he murmured, awe deepening his tone.
Relief flooded her at the sincerity in his voice and his eyes. “You’re welcome. Now, tell me what you think we need?”
“A night out,” he murmured. “You’re feeling better physically, right? You haven’t overdone it?”
“Be damn hard to, when you keep doing all the heavy lifting.” That would change the following week, when she began to strip the floors and go to work refurbishing the house. However, she’d fight the battle when she got there. “Other than the headache, I do feel okay.” She’d almost grown used to the soreness in her muscles and bones, and they weren’t any worse.
“Great, I know this sweet little dance bar. It’s always open on the weekend. It’s a slice of Texas fun, and I think we could both use a break. Why don’t you take a bath, put on a skirt and some boots, and we’ll go kick up our heels.”
Was he serious? “I’m not necessarily the best dancer.”
“Then it’s a good thing you have a fantastic partner.” He winked, and his tone became cajoling. “Come on, play with me?”
A weird invitation, but she couldn’t stop the grin tugging at her lips. She loved this side of Cage, with the devil-may-care smile and the gleam in his eyes. “You’re on, but I don’t think I have any cowboy boots.”
“I know a place. We’ll get some on our way…”
Laughter bubbled up inside of her at his excitement. “Then a bath it is.”
He tightened his grip on her nape, gentle but firm, then turned her to meet his kiss. Stealing her breath, he nuzzled her mouth until she opened to him and his tongue tangled with hers. It was more sweet than passionate, yet desire kindled in her belly. A slow burn promising an incendiary finish, before he eased his face away and smiled. “Go take your bath, relax, and when you’re ready, we’ll go dance.”
A buzz of adventure ignited in her center. “I promise, I’ll try not to stomp on your toes.”
Rising, he wrapped an arm around her middle and set her on her feet. The effortless way he lifted her, boxes, everything. The man’s strength was a constant source of wonder. Even more, how delicate and fragile he made her feel. While she’d always taken pride in her personal strength and determination, she had to admit—it took a special man to make her feel vulnerable and to revel in the sensation.
Twisting in his arms, she rose on her toes and looped her arms around his neck. She’d given up wearing the splint. The wrist fracture had to be far less severe than the doctor had believed. Even her ribs felt better—achy, but better.
“I do have one condition.” This close, she could appreciate the stubble decorating his cheeks. Even his hair had grown out over the last several days. He must be one of those lucky bastards who grew their hair fast. The longer hair, with the five o’clock shadow, and his deeply bronzed skin gave him this scruffy, roguish look. Sexy. As. Hell.
“Name it.” He raised his eyebrows. The gold sprinkled in his eyes reminded her what a treasure he was every time she stared into them. She loved how they caught the light and sometimes turned deep amber.
“I want red cowboy boots.” They sounded sassy, wild, and with a hint of daring. Seeing his smile grow more speculative made the suggestion even more worth it.
“You got it. Now go.” He gave her a light nudge, then the barest of taps to her ass. It was both playful and caring without heat or sting. “Or I’ll throw my good intentions out, and these boxes don’t look all that comfortable for what I have in mind.”
His laughter chased her up the stairs, and it wasn’t until she arrived in her bathroom she realized she’d jogged all the way up without becoming breathless, though she still wore a stupid grin on her face and she was giddy. Testing her fingers against her ribs, she failed to elicit the pained response she expected. Sucking in a deep breath, she felt her chest expand without the tightness, then she exhaled and again, no pain.
Her cracked ribs healed in a week?
Was that even possible?
“I don’t hear the water running.” Cage’s voice floated up to her and she stuck her tongue out at him, even though he couldn’t see her. Getting the water switched on, she looked forward to testing the jets. Maybe remaining in the field was the reason it had taken her ribs a long time to heal when she cracked them before. Or maybe they hadn’t been hurt as bad as she thought.
Weird.
On the other hand, if she was feeling better it meant she got to do more with her renovation and dancing wouldn’t be so bad tonight. Really, he’s going to discover I have two left feet. I hope he finds slapstick physical comedy funny.
Sinking into the hot water chased away the aches, the pains, and the silliness. When she hit the button for the jets, she let out a deeper sigh of contentment.
“I’ll be back in an hour or two.” Cage’s voice floated up to her again, and she smiled.
“I’ll be here!” she called back. Right there, in the tub. She was never getting out of it again.
The sound of the alarm being armed chirped on the wall panel in her bedroom, then the front door closed. Of course, Cage engaged the security system when he left. The sense of security he layered her in snugged tight, and she let her head rest against the back of the tub as she soaked up the heat.
The man seemed perfect.
So where were his flaws?
…
Descending the stone steps, Cage scanned the street. Assessing potential threats was a habit. Fact was, every time he left her, he was wildly aware that she was alone, potentially vulnerable. It nagged at him. He didn’t relax his vigilance—not even on their quiet suburban street.
The spring temperatures waxed and waned between the mid-fifties and the upper-seventies. It made the season his favorite in his home state, though Austin varied wider than Big Bend Country where his pack made its home. The idea to take Bianca dancing had percolated in the back of his mind for the last couple of days, but her weariness and stiff muscles made the decision for him.
Getting out of the house and playing would do them both good. His wolf’s restlessness played a part in his choice. The run with Silver had helped. He needed to take another one, but that meant leaving her. Again. Merely hanging out with Bianca settled him, but his wolf’s agitation remained a low-level hum in his system. When he’d tried to make time, though, even the wolf resisted leaving her.
They were only in agreement on this expedition because he would be just across the street in the house he’d purchased to keep an eye on her, and then had barely spent more than a couple of nights sleeping there. He much preferred Bianca’s place, and he’d made sure all of his food purchases remained in her fridge, too.
Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he paused at the mailbox to clean out the junk fliers and a couple of bills. He’d arranged auto debit for the utilities and mortgage, but he’d still go through them to be certain. Once inside, he wrinkled his nose at the musty smell. He’d left the A/C on for air circulation, but lower temps meant it probably hadn’t kicked in. Pacing to the thermostat, he turned the temp down and waited a beat till he heard the condenser kick in outside.
In the kitchen, he dropped the mail on the counter then grabbed a beer from the fridge. His phone had been quiet, but the captain had given him a week. Time to check in. Pulling out his cell, he hit speed dial.
Jax answered on the first ring. Before he even said hello, the masculine laughter in the background told Cage he was in the barracks. They were still at the Edge, at least for another couple of weeks. Duty station shifts kept the team on the move and protected them from too close observation by humans serving around them.
“It’s about time, Sergeant. What’s the word?” Familiar, friendly, and calming, Jax personified the kind of leader Cage aspired to be. The manner in which he handled challenges inspired Cage for the future. Cage’s father, Reuben, had a zero-tolerance policy for defiance, whereas Jax encouraged intelligent objections.
“Still in Austin,” he answered slowly, measuring his words. “I still haven’t seen the actual bite mark.” At least not since he’d arrived, so not a lie. Odd, she’d managed to never change the bandage while he was present. They didn’t shower together and, while he would have enjoyed soaking in the bath with her and the opportunity it would have afforded him, he’d left rather than see the evidence.
“You don’t have to see it to know if the effect is happening,” Jax reminded him, and the boisterous noise in the background cut off abruptly with the closing of a door. “It’s just me, now, Cage. What’s going on?”
“She’s healing far faster than one would expect considering the nature of her injuries. Her senses are sharper, more attuned.” He was still uncertain, and very much torn. He didn’t want to rob her of her choice, but if she did turn—no, he wouldn’t complete the selfish thought. It would be helpful if Jax had already turned Kat. The mated pair were working toward that eventuality, but they hadn’t taken the final step.
“Fuck,” Jax sighed. “We need a definitive. You have to notify your alpha, and I have to notify mine.” As captain, he had to take responsibility for all their actions. “What does she think is happening?”
“Nothing,” he said, certain of that. “Bianca has no idea. I didn’t think one bite was enough to turn.”
“It’s kind of like when the condom rips. It doesn’t take much. Especially in wolf form.” His captain sounded wearier, if possible. Another sigh. “I need you back here, Cage, and we need this wrapped up. If she’s turning, you have to inform your father, or I will.”
Not the news he wanted to receive. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve got a lead on Chief Al Fakir.” Only the third most-wanted chieftain in the Eastern Afghan provinces. “Kat’s working on confirmation. As soon as we have it, we’ll be wheels up immediately.”
“Fuck.” Not a mission he could or had any desire to miss. Al Fakir would be a nice feather in their caps.
“Exactly, so figure it out. You might have twenty-four to forty-eight hours, max. Then I need you here, so we can move.” The captain wasn’t giving him any time, but he’d already given him a week. It wasn’t like Cage could ask for more.
“I’ll be there when you need me, Captain.”
They disconnected, then Cage stared at the phone. Jax had given him a time limit. He had to make the hours count. As the son of his pack’s alpha, he had to work twice as hard to earn half as much. No matter how many challenges he faced, his father encouraged him to keep a positive attitude—no one liked a whiner. The last person he could call for help was his father.
So he chose his abuela. Dialing her number, he paced to the living room where he could look across the street at Bianca’s house. It seemed too far away—she was too far away—but he had to figure out what to do next.
“Nieto, it has been too long since you visited,” she greeted him when she answered the phone.
“Si, Abuela. Lo siento.” The family spoke both English and Spanish fluently. “My work has kept me busy.”
“Your papa is a bad man, letting you volunteer for this assignment.” She’d never approved of his stepping forward to accept the charge of representing the pack in Bravo Team WOLF. He was the son of the alpha, and she’d argued against his choice—he should be protected. It was the only time Cage had ever spoken out in opposition to his father’s mamacita.
“Be kind to Papa,” Cage argued, proud of his civil tone. “This was what I wanted, Abuela, and I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. What I’ve learned.” All the things I haven’t screwed up yet.
“Bien.” She sighed. “I miss my nieto. I miss when you would come eat at my table.” The manner in which she let her age weigh down her tone played the heavy-handed card of emotional blackmail.
“I very much doubt you miss the broken windows or shredded clothes.” He’d practiced for years to shift so swiftly he could tear through his clothing and never be restricted by it. The work had paid off—his wardrobe had suffered as a result.
“True,” she said, then laughed. “All right, I shall stop haranguing you. Now, digame, Carlos. What is so wrong that you called me and not your papa.”
“You still don’t miss much, do you?” His grandmother’s keen insights had been the bedrock of his upbringing. The mate of an alpha, she’d raised another one, and Cage hoped he would be the third alpha to benefit from her wisdom.
“No,” she agreed with him. “I don’t, so stop hesitating, mijo. Digame. Pronto.”
“The turn—how long does it take to know if it has taken?” Yes, he prevaricated some, trying to couch his question in vague supposition.
“It varies by the individual, and it is not normally undertaken outside the pack. What has happened, Nieto?”
“Maybe nothing.” He hoped. His affection for Bianca aside, she had no idea about the wolves, about what could be happening to her. If he had bitten her, if she really was changing, she would be well within her rights to hate him.
“Or something,” she countered, and he could hear fabric rustling as though she rose from her chair. He could picture her sitting in her thick armchair, a pile of knitting in her lap, and a hot cup of coffee on the table next to her. If she stood, she’d begun to walk through the house to the veranda. They’d had many difficult conversations out there, the hot air kept at bay by the breeze off the river.
“There may have been an incident.” He had to choose his words carefully. Abuela would shield him, but she couldn’t lie for him. Hypotheticals protected them all. “A woman may have been assaulted, and she may have been accidentally bitten in a wolf’s attempt to remove the person attacking her.”
His grandmother said nothing for a long moment, but the hint of the breeze kissed her phone and whooshed against the phone’s speaker. “And how long has it been since this woman may have been bitten?”
“Possibly a week, give or take a day.” Eight days.
“I’m going to assume for the purpose of discussion, that the wolf in question was on four legs and not two.” His grandmother didn’t miss much.
“Sí,” he said, keeping his noncommittal.
“Nieto, there is no strict timetable for the change to sweep over someone who has been turned, only that it typically takes a full cycle.”
“Lunar?” So he had—possibly another twenty-one days?
“Typically, but as with all things, some are faster, some are slower. It can depend on any number of factors.”
Cage didn’t curse. Even miles away, his grandmother’s disapproval would slap him. “So you are telling me there is no way, hypothetically to determine if a bite has taken?”
“Sí, mijo. There is no one absolute.” If that crushing news were not enough, she continued. “Not every turn goes as even the most dedicated mate or alpha might desire. Some simply fail.”
Fail? “As in they just don’t turn? They are fine?” He couldn’t ask for a better outcome. Bianca’s life would be her own. He wouldn’t have violated the law. Everyone could return to their normally scheduled plans. His wolf clawed at him; the beast didn’t like the idea of leaving her. They would still be able to see her, but he could focus on taking on the challenge of leading Bravo Team WOLF eventually and she could keep saving the world.
“No, mijo.” The finality in his abuela’s tone extinguished the flare of his sudden hope. “I mean that when a turn truly fails, the subject also fails.”
What?
“For those who cannot turn, there is only death. The transformation weakens the body.”
“Can anything be done?”
“If it were an issue, another bite can help—the strength of a mate can help—or the power of an alpha.” His grandmother kept her tone opaque. “Is this an issue we should explore further?”
And she was done assisting him without more information. Message received. “No, I don’t think so.” He prayed not. “If I do require your aid, I will call you.”
“Do that…and come see me, before I am so old and frail, I forget who you are.”
Still staring at Bianca’s house, Cage didn’t even try to manufacture a laugh. “I will, I promise. Adios.”
“Te amo,” she murmured. “Hasta la vista.”
Then the call disconnected.
He had to know if Bianca was undergoing the change. If the risk was real.
He couldn’t lose her.