by Amy Pennza
He gripped her arms, his expression stern. “You’re certain?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I’ve been around enough latents to know what moon madness looks like.”
“That’s not what I meant. You’re sure about the sweatshirt and the red hair?”
She nodded. “It was the same man I saw today.”
His face was grim. “Not a man. A boy.”
She blinked, her brain like mush. Wind gusted, brushing her bare skin with icy fingers. “What do you mean?”
“His name is Sam. He’s fourteen.”
Her throat went dry. “But . . . he could still Turn—”
“No, he can’t.” Ben’s gaze was steady. “It’s too late, Haley. You know that as well as I do.”
The wind gusted harder, and she lost the battle against chattering her teeth. He pulled her against him, chafing her arms with his palms. The position smashed her breasts against his chest and brought their hips together. He smelled of cinnamon, she thought absently. Cinnamon and blood.
A groan came from the clearing.
She slipped from Ben’s arms and hurried to Joel’s side. His eyes were open, and they widened as he met her gaze.
“You . . . Breaking . . .”
Ben knelt at her side and put his hand on Joel’s chest. “We’re taking you to Bard.”
Joel acted as if he hadn’t heard. He held Haley’s stare. His lips moved but no sound emerged.
For some reason, goosebumps formed all over her body. The wind whipped around the clearing, sending leaves swirling in an arc.
“Joel?” Ben leaned over the other man. “I’m going to carry you to my car.”
Joel’s throat worked, then he gasped. “Danger.” His eyes lightened to wolf blue. “It’s . . . breaking.”
“What’s breaking?” Haley leaned closer, her knee pressing into the cold ground.
His eyelids fluttered, then closed. His mouth went slack.
Her heart jumped. Was he . . . ?
Ben put a hand on the undamaged side of Joel’s neck. “He’s gone.”
“It’s my fault.” She put a hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have Turned. It took too long. It—”
“No.” He touched her arm. “He wasn’t going to make it. He lost too much blood before we found him.”
She swallowed. The wind tore at the clearing, tossing her hair.
Ben stood. “We don’t have much time.” He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off, revealing a smooth, muscled chest. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up, then pushed the shirt into her hands. “Put this on.”
She took it, but her body was numb. She looked at Joel. He was the first person from Elder Lake she met. Just days ago, he’d flown her from Seattle.
“Haley.” Ben’s voice jerked her attention away from Joel. He gestured to the shirt. “Come on. We’ve got to tell Bard.”
Moving on autopilot, she shoved her arms into the sleeves. Cinnamon and blood enveloped her. “What did he mean by breaking?”
“I don’t know. People say weird stuff when they’re dying.”
She bristled. “Don’t you care that he’s dead?”
He cupped her face in bloodstained hands. “Of course I do.” Anger flashed in his eyes, but she didn’t think it was meant for her. “Joel taught me how to fish. Everyone loved him. But there’s a moon-mad latent out there strong enough to overpower most wolves. I need to tell my Alpha.”
Bard’s face flashed in her mind. Moon madness was just slang for a latent who lost their grip on reality. The moon had nothing to do with werewolves other than making it easier to hunt at night. However, Hollywood got one thing right. When latents went insane, they were capable of almost unimaginable violence.
And Bard was limited to human form.
Ben released her, then bent and gathered Joel’s body in his arms. When he straightened, Joel’s head lolled to the side, his wounded neck gaping open.
Worry washed over Haley. “Do you think Bard can handle a latent?”
“I wouldn’t ask Bard that question if I were you.” He looked at her feet. “Will you be okay with no shoes? I can give you my socks.”
“I’m fine.”
He looked doubtful, but he tilted his head toward the path back to the road. “Stay close to me.” He strode from the clearing, moving as if Joel’s weight didn’t bother him. Which it probably didn’t. His Gift saw to that.
She followed, anxiety clanging like a bell in her head. Bard was an Alpha, but he was no match for a crazed latent.
Was he?
As they moved through the trees, she kept her gaze on Ben’s back. His muscles bunched and flexed, and his tan skin shone like gold under the moonlight, but she didn’t really see it. Joel’s words replayed over and over in her head. Breaking. What was breaking? Maybe Ben was right, and he’d been delirious with pain and blood loss. Maybe she should dismiss it and move on.
Except that wasn’t the only thing Joel said. There was another word—one not so easily dismissed.
Danger.
15
Bard lay on his back on the narrow cot in his office, his gaze on the ceiling.
He should check on Haley. Make sure she was okay.
Although, the upstairs had been quiet all night. She was probably sleeping.
At least one of them was.
He flung off the blanket and stood, pausing a second to get his balance. Sleeping with his prosthesis was a pain in the ass but something had made him leave it on before turning in for the night. Maybe his subconscious had known he wasn’t going to sleep anyway.
The office was dark, but there was enough moonlight to let him move through the house without worrying about a fall. It lit up the foyer and spilled through the living room windows, revealing an outside covered in thick snow. Wind battered the house, the sound a high-pitched whistle that sailed down the chimney and into every crack and cranny.
Swearing under his breath, he limped to the nearest window and peered out. A layer of white stretched from the house to the treeline, the snow almost as high as his mailbox. He wasn’t going to the airport in the morning. He’d be lucky to make it down his driveway.
Which meant another day—probably two—with Haley Michaels in his house.
He waited for irritation to wash over him.
It didn’t. Instead, a curious feeling drifted through his mind—something at once both foreign and familiar. His wolf seemed to recognize it first. The beast roused, radiating a deep sense of . . . anticipation?
Bard rubbed a hand over his mouth. As much as his brain wanted to be irritated at the idea of being trapped in the house with Haley, his body relished it. As if drawn by a magnet, he turned, his gaze easily finding her discarded clothing on the floor. Her shirt and bra were exactly where she left them.
An image of her slammed into his mind—her head thrown back, long neck exposed as she thrust her breasts forward.
He wasn’t one for hyperbole, but her tits were magnificent. High and firm, they were large for her frame and crowned with pink nipples the same shade as her cheeks when she blushed. They stabbed the air, as tight and ripe as strawberries.
Just a taste. That’s what he told himself. But once she was in his mouth he realized his mistake. How foolish he was, a starving man thinking he’d be content with a nibble. A pauper who stumbled on a treasure.
And that’s what Haley was. Her body was a feast, from her soft, gentle curls and sky-blue eyes to her nipped in waist and legs that seemed to go on forever. With all that bounty perched on his lap, he’d been helpless to resist her.
The magnet tugged harder, and he limped to the sofa. Ignoring the twinges in his leg, he bent and scooped her clothes from the floor. Wildflowers teased his nose, the scent so strong he could almost feel petals on his face. Even so, no flower was as soft as her skin. Mind whirling with images of her straddling him in the moonlight, her back arched and her breasts quivering, he lifted the bra to his face and inhaled. The heady scent of wildflowers and honey filled hi
s lungs.
Honey. That was how she smelled when she was wet. And she’d been wet for him, her pussy throwing off so much heat he felt the burn through her clothes.
What he would give to taste her there, too.
Someone pounded on the front door hard enough to shake the house. “Bard? Are you in there?”
Expletives flew from Bard’s lips as he went to the door. Whoever was outside was going to learn how to use a doorbell, stat. He wrenched the door open, a growl in his throat as a gust of wind sent snowflakes flying into the foyer.
Benjamin Rupert stood on the porch, his chest bare and a layer of frost in his hair.
Haley stood just behind him wearing nothing but a shirt.
Rupert’s shirt.
Their scents mingled—cinnamon and wildflowers.
Bard’s wolf roared to attention, the force of its ire so great his fangs threatened to punch through his gums. He grabbed Rupert by the scruff of the neck and yanked him into the foyer.
Haley gasped and stumbled back, the shirt fluttering around her bare legs.
“Get inside,” Bard told her.
She drew herself up. “Don’t touch me!”
The growl in his throat let loose as he reached for her.
“Joel’s dead,” Rupert said behind him.
Bard swung around, shock draining his anger. “What?”
Rupert kept his gaze on the ground. His face was pale as a sheet, the skin on his chest red and raw looking, his shoulders damp from the snow. He sucked in a breath. “Sam lost it. He attacked Joel in the woods.”
“You’re sure?”
“Haley saw it.”
Bard looked at her. She opened her mouth as wind whipped around her, sending snow into the air like glitter. Uncaring if she balked, he grabbed her above the elbow and pulled her inside.
“Hey!” She jerked her arm from his grip and went to Rupert’s side. Unlike Rupert, she met his stare, her cheeks flushed and her eyes blazing. Her gaze dipped to his hand, and a frown puckered her forehead.
He realized he still held her bra. Fuck. He stuffed it in his pocket and addressed Rupert. “Explain. Now.”
“I wanted to check on Haley after the avalanche.” Rupert looked up, then dropped his gaze again. “No one answered the phone, so I drove out.” He hesitated. “My apologies, Alpha, if I overstepped my bounds.”
Bard waved it off.
“I saw an unfamiliar wolf on the road.” He glanced at Haley. “She fell down an embankment. I followed her into the forest and that’s where we found Joel.”
Bard looked at Haley. “Well?” He kept his voice gruff so she wouldn’t notice the relief he felt knowing she hadn’t run off with Rupert.
She pushed damp hair away from her face with wind-reddened hands. “After I fell, I heard a . . . groan. Like someone was hurt. When I found Joel there was a man”—she shook her head—“a boy crouched over him.”
“It was Sam,” Rupert said.
Bard bit back a curse. “You’re certain?”
“She saw him in town. The description matches.” Rupert lifted his gaze, sorrow etched on his face. “He’s been showing signs.”
“I know.” Weight descended on Bard’s shoulders, as if the air itself grew heavier.
But there was no time for that. Later, he could mourn. Right now, he had a job to do.
He looked at Rupert. “Stay with her. She doesn’t leave this house.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
Haley glanced between them. “What? What are you talking about?”
Rupert patted the air with his hands in a “calm down” gesture.
A smile spread in Bard’s mind. Bad move, son.
Haley’s eyes shot fire at him, then she faced Bard, her hands on her hips. “What do you mean ‘stay with her?’ Where are you going?”
“I’m taking care of the problem, Miss Michaels.”
“But . . .” Her eyes darted to the window, where the snowstorm raged. “You can’t.”
Rupert made a strangled sound.
Her cheeks reddened. “I mean, of course you can. But . . .” She cleared her throat. “It’s just . . . You’re—”
“Alpha,” Bard said. Then he did something he rarely did.
He unleashed the full force of his power.
Rupert went to his knees right away. Haley took longer, but only by a second or two. Her eyes widened, then she sank to the floor and bent her head.
Bard’s power—the essence of what made him Alpha—swelled, filling the room with something almost palpable. The air felt thicker and heavier, like ozone before a lightning storm. Most of the time, his power huddled around him like a cloak. This was both necessary and practical. For one thing, it was inconvenient to have wolves unable to stand in his presence.
But hiding his true nature also stopped enemies from knowing his range. Hiding his power meant no one could study it. Find his weaknesses.
Sometimes it paid to be underestimated.
In this case, however, he didn’t have time to convince Haley Michaels he was capable of hunting a latent gone moon-mad. Even now, Sam might have reached the edge of town. If he ventured outside Elder Lake, he might find humans. If that happened, every territory in the country would get involved. The race couldn’t afford the publicity that came with grisly “animal” attacks.
The pressure in the room grew, until the front door creaked. Behind him, there was a sound of shattering glass. A moment later, cool air brushed his skin.
Ah. The window.
Rupert’s shoulders heaved, and he let out a ragged breath. Haley’s head remained bowed, her curls hanging in long spirals down the front of Rupert’s shirt.
“I’m Alpha,” Bard repeated. “And I expect to be obeyed.”
Neither of them moved.
He turned his attention to Rupert. “Ben.”
Rupert’s voice was strained. “Yes, Alpha.”
“She doesn’t leave this house.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
Haley’s lips parted but she didn’t lift her head. She wasn’t going to be happy with him.
Just one more thing to add to the list. They had a lot to talk about.
Later. He’d talk to her later. Apologize. He was older and more experienced, and he’d taken advantage of her lack of both those things.
Right now, though, he had a job to do.
With his power swirling around him, he turned his gaze back to Rupert’s dark head. “Your car left tracks in the snow?”
“Yes, sir. I couldn’t get up the driveway, though.”
No matter. The magic that fueled the Alpha was strong enough to overcome Mother Nature. For a time, at least.
Bard looked at Haley, parting words crowding his mind.
She kept her head bent, her hands curled into fists on either side of her knees.
He swallowed all the things he might have said and swept from the room. Rupert would keep her safe until Bard could take care of the latent. And in the morning, Bard would see to it she was on a plane headed for New York.
Where she would be safe from him.
16
It took a few minutes for the air pressure in the room to return to normal. When it did, Haley jumped up, rushed to the front door, and wrenched it open.
Bard was long gone, his footprints rapidly filling with snow.
“Close the door, it’s freezing.”
She turned back to the foyer, where Ben was getting to his feet. His face had a decidedly grayish tinge, and his chest sported a red patch that might have been windburn.
“I know it’s freezing,” she told him. “Which is just one reason Bard shouldn’t be out there alone.”
“Well good luck stopping him.” Ben bent his head and examined his chest. He rubbed at his abraded skin and winced.
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
He looked up, frowning. “What do you want me to say? He ordered us to stay here.”
How could he be so nonchalant? Her voice rose but she didn�
��t care. “He could barely walk after pulling me from the avalanche.” She swept an arm toward the snow-covered porch. “How is he supposed to hunt a latent in this?”
“He’s the Alpha.” Ben’s tone held a note of incredulity, as if he thought her question was stupid but was too polite to say so.
She forced calm into her voice. “He has a disability.”
For a second, he looked confused, his brow furrowed like he was trying to do complicated math in his head. Then his expression cleared and he gave a little laugh. “Huh. Yeah, I guess he does.”
It was her turn to feel confused. What kind of attitude was that? He acted like Bard’s injury was an afterthought. Were her instincts correct about why Bard went without a Beta or Hunters? Did his pack view him as expendable? Someone to clean up messes so they didn’t have to risk their own necks? Anger fired in her gut and she mustered as much sarcasm as she could. “You guess?”
Wind gusted, sweeping snow into the foyer.
Ben shivered. “Look, Haley, I’d love to stand here and argue with you, but can you please shut the door?”
“No!” Her shout echoed off the walls, and he jumped. “He needs our help! We have to go after him.”
Now Ben’s expression darkened. “Absolutely not. He gave me an order to keep you here.”
“He could be killed!”
“Not possible.”
What? A scream of frustration built in her chest. “He’s a werewolf, Ben. Not an immortal.”
“He’s an Alpha. One whose power blew out a window, in case you haven’t noticed.”
She had, actually. It was pretty hard to miss the pane exploding outward. But that didn’t change the fact that Bard had a prosthesis. Or that he spent most of his time hiding how much pain it caused him.
The wind blew harder. She turned and closed the door.
“Thanks,” Ben said.
She turned back and started unbuttoning her shirt.
His jaw dropped. “Wait. What are you doing?”
“If you want to stay inside and cower, fine. But I’m going to help Bard.” She kept working at the buttons, her fingers moving fast.
“You can’t do that.”
