by Michele Ryan
“Yes, and she is expandable. Once he has what he requires, he will kill her,” Clara confessed.
“That is her problem, not ours. It was her choice to dance with the devil and she can deal with the fall out, whatever it maybe. If he kills her, it will save me the trouble in the foreseeable future,” Ezra avowed.
Clara reached for him, laying her hand on his forearm. “It will hurt Grant.”
“No,” Ezra assured her. “I do not believe it will. Having his mother removed from his life will give him a security nothing I do can ever do will accomplish. He’ll be safe, knowing she can never come for him and be a dark cloud over him anymore. He will, for the first time in his young existence, be free.”
Jonah stood, wrapping his arm around his Beloved waist. “So, what do you propose.”
“Find Marbella and use her as she intended to use us,” Ezra declared.
“How?” Omer inquired.
“Give her what she wants most,” Clara said with a shrug.
“Grant?” Omer asked.
“No. Me,” Clara declared. She winced at the low growl building in Ezra chest. “It’s true. We all have come to this understanding.”
“Absolutely not,” Ezra snarled. “My mate will not be used for bait.”
Clara sighed. Ezra’s protests were not a surprise. The Alpha in him would never allow her to sacrifice herself, while the mate in him would never allow her to place herself into any situation in which she could possibly get harmed.
“Be reasonable, Ezra. She knows she has no chance of getting Grant and she has already gotten to me once. She thinks I am the weak link. We need to take advantage of her misconceptions.”
“Marbella would not go for it. She’s been watching us, watching the mansion. The moment you stepped outside, without protection she would suspect a trap. We need to give her something she wouldn’t expect.”
“I have a suggestion,” Dell said from the doorway. All eyes were on the older woman and Clara suspected she was not going to like what the other woman was going to say. “Ezra should go back, his tail tucked between his legs, claiming he was wrong. Assure Marbella that Clara is not his mate and how he now knows, without a doubt, Marbella is the one.”
The nausea Clara had been working to keep at bay, finally reared its ugly head. Turning, Clara ran out of the room. She hurried down the hall toward the slop bucket she knew rested on the counter top in the kitchen. Ezra followed hot on her heels, holding her when she finally emptied her stomach of its contents.
Chapter Eleven
With child... Ezra couldn’t believe it. Though he was happy, it worried him. Between the Baron and Marbella, he couldn’t be there to protect Clara. The thought of her getting hurt, knotted his gut with fear. Still he couldn’t slag off on his job. They had to finish this. A baby renewed the sense of urgency surrounding them.
Inspector Hoyt Sharpter informed him, once everyone had departed from the meeting in the library, that Marbella had been spotted on more than one occasion using broken magicks and her wolf form to terrorize Londoners. Hence another reason for their meeting. Scotland Yard, and their Paranormal Division wouldn’t allow her psychotic reign of fear to continue. If he didn’t deal with it accordingly, they would dispatch of her properly—sooner since Ezra had confirmed their suspicions.
Tonight, the trap had to be set.
Ezra dreaded the thought of going back to Hyde Park where Marbella kept the other wolves, secluded and confined. The slick edge of anxiety ran down his spine while images of everything that could go wrong raced through his head. The idea of losing what he held dear, cramped his stomach. A cold sweat broke out on his brow. Unfortunately, he had to be the one who did this. The conviction of the inspector’s words held weight, but Ezra worried, the good men of Scotland Yard would die, adding to Marbella’s out of control death count. He couldn’t have another deceased soul on his conscience.
Thirteen years ago, after Marbella bit him and he’d subsequently killed Jemmy’s mother, he realized what Marbella was. By then, she carried Grant. By then she had his pecker in a bind. She used the moon against him and made fighting her harder by the day. When Omer called upon him to take his place within the ranks of the Dreadfuls, some of her manipulations wore off. Still he returned every full moon to copulate with the females of the pack, which only served to reinsert him into a horrific situation he quickly realized he couldn’t control. The thought, since breaking the cycle, of returning, had his hackles rising, however he understood deep down, he had no other choice.
In order for this to work, Marbella would have to believe he’d left Clara. It hurt his soul to even think it, but he had to put on a convincing show for her. Had to do and say all the right things. He shivered in revolt. How did he say those precious words to Marbella? How did he steal something he whispered to his mate nightly and give it to a woman he loathed?
“You’re thinking too hard,” Jonah said, stepping into the parlor. “I can hear your mind spinning from my room.”
Ezra frowned. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you or Annabelle.”
“Don’t fret.” Jonah grabbed a bottle off the bar and poured Ezra a drink. “She’ll be able to read you.”
His friend didn’t have to say who. “I am trying to wrap my mind around the thought of...” Shit, he couldn’t say it.
“It won’t be easy,” Jonah agreed. “You’ll have to convince her of everything you say.”
“I understand. She’ll smell the lie before I even utter it.” This wouldn’t work. Ezra knew it to his bones. “I can’t even force myself to form the words. It physically hurts.”
Jonah folded his hands behind his back. “Have you ever thought about doing it with anger?”
Anger? Ezra swallowed the amber liquor and winced as it left behind a searing trail down his throat. “No.”
“Think about it for a second,” his friend said. “She is expecting you to crawl back and denounce everything. What if you flipped it. What if you went to her angry and with the idea of having thrown everything away.”
Jonah’s words made sense. If he could use the rage to cover his lie, he might be able to get close enough to her to use the silver bullet infused with Clara’s magick. “Perhaps.” Ezra scrubbed his chin. “It could work. I have to go alone, which means whatever happens out there, I’ll need all of you to protect my son and my mate.”
“Don’t concern yourself with us,” Jonah stated. “No one will get in here. I promise.”
Ezra clenched his fists, staving off the urge to return to his room and claim his mate one last time. However, he couldn’t. The time was growing late and if he planned on finishing this, he had to leave now. After saying his goodbyes to Jonah, Ezra stuffed the small, single shot pistol loaded with a silver bullet, into his pocket and stepped out into the warm, summer evening air. The scent of night jasmine and lavender did nothing to soothe the beast within.
The only thing that would calm him properly; the death of the she-beast who claimed the park as her home. In order to stay sharp, he focused on the task at hand, pushing aside all his worries. He couldn’t be in two places at once, so he did what came naturally to him. He buried his emotions. He became the ruthless monster he knew himself to be under the fancy suits and the Pinkerton badge he still held dear.
As he approached the park, a heaviness in the air settled over him. The hint of female musk and blood coated him in a thick sludge of disgust. The moon wasn’t full, yet the females acted as though it were. Why? How? Ezra curled his lip sickened by the thought of what Marbella might be doing. The poor person who serviced her had no idea what they’d gotten themselves into, or what would happen once the bitch in heat got what she desired.
He approached silently, his gaze traveled from the tree-lines to the bramble bushes and foliage below. He wouldn’t put it past Marbella to have guards now. A fire burned in the middle of the clearing. The flames leapt and danced along the current of the soft breeze. The muffled sounds of sexual pleasure drifted
towards him along with the sour stench of body odor. The shadowed figures lying close to the fire undulated. The rasped, wheezing moans of a man past his prime trying to keep his willie stiff, repulsed Ezra. The pack of ravenous women surrounded Marbella and this man, urging their capitulation.
Harder and faster the pair moved against the backdrop of the fire. Their sounds grew more urgent and pained. As the man reared back, bellowing through his release, Marbella sliced his throat and ripped out the flesh. Her cry of victory, tore at Ezra soul. The horrific sound, so brittle yet also joyous hurt his ears and caused his wolf to whine in repugnance. He turned away from the scene unable to stand another look.
Ezra had to finish this. She couldn’t take another life. Marbella only sought one thing. A way to get pregnant. A way to have more children to follow in her footsteps. To perpetuate this grisly life, she carved out of the park. He reached down deep, grabbing at the ends of his strength to do what would have to come next. He had to kill her. Ezra stood from where he hid then made his way over to the camp where the women were dancing, delighting in their foolish ways. They were not pack anymore. Hell, he reckoned he’d left this pack when he met Jonah. The Dreadfuls had become his pack. He gratefully gave the Alpha title to Jonah, allowing him to take charge.
“Marbella,” he shouted, bringing their revelry to a halt.
Her gaze snapped to his and a wicked gleam filled her eyes. A crooked blood-stained smile filled her features. “Lover.” She approached him slowly. “You weren’t coming back.”
His gut knotted. “I wasn’t.” He reached for her. “I-I made a mistake.”
She laughed.
“I tasted something fresh. Got carried away, but now my dick’s gone limp and I can’t get it up.” Lies. All of it. He spent himself within Clara several times the night before, to make sure his cock wouldn’t rise for any occasion. Stupid as the thought was due to his wolf stamina, he hoped it would work for at least a short while as it were.
“Of course you can’t,” Marbella stated. “I could have told you that.” Her tinkering laughter grated on his nerves. She reached down to cup him through his trousers.
Ezra sucked in a breath. He found little pleasure in her touch, but played the part, recalling an image of his sweet Creole Queen splayed across his bed. His length twitched and started to fill. “We should go somewhere private.”
“We don’t have secrets,” she whispered. “I find them watching to be...scintillatingly naughty.” She unhooked his pants and shoved her hand down them, reaching for his quickly hardening shaft. “I believe society calls it being an exhibitionist.”
Ezra gritted his teeth. He ignored his body’s response, called up images of his fearful son and the way he shrank away from having to speak of his treatment. Marbella growled. She squeezed him tight, almost painfully so. The strokes she applied to his flesh weren’t made for enjoyment. They were torturous.
“I don’t.” He winced, suspecting he’d be bruised by the time she finished. Narrowing his eyes, he wrapped a hand around her throat. “Do you mean to break it off?”
Marbella pouted. “But you won’t stay hard.”
“I explained already.” Ezra ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “I must have you alone. Away from here.”
“Fine.” She released her hold of him. “To where we made Grant. I have a feeling tonight might just do the trick.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed adjusting his trousers. He trailed behind her, his right hand in his pocket, gripping the stalk of the single-shot pistol.
They pushed through the foliage just out of sight of the fire still burning. She turned to him again, that wicked smile of hers cemented in place. He should do it now. One second turned to the next. His heart hammered causing adrenaline to spike and pour through his veins. The moment was upon him. If she suspected anything, she didn’t give it away and it worried him.
Marbella turned to him and laughed. “I’ve won. You will bring Grant home tomorrow after we have consummated our mating.”
“I will,” he answered.
“You will break your contract with that horrid spirit, Mr. Cause.”
“For you, I will,” he said, taking a step closer to her.
“We will never speak of that negro slave from this day forward.” Marbella closed the distance between them and reached for him.
Ezra pulled the weapon and placed it under her chin. “You had to call Clara names, didn’t you?” He growled, cocking the weapon. “Pushed your luck with a list of demands.”
Fear flashed within her soulless eyes. “Ezra?”
“You’re rabid, Marbella,” he whispered. “You’ve consumed a magick you have no idea how to wield. You had your bitches molest our son. Took away his pride.”
“He isn’t a child anymore.” She swallowed hard. “They caught him staring while they bathed in the river. Might as well show him now, instead of going to his mated bed a virgin.”
“He had a choice,” Ezra snarled.
“He wasn’t harmed.” Her voice warbled as she took a step back.
“And the others? The ones you have left strewn about the city? What of their choice to live?”
She tried to shrug but failed. “I got hungry.”
“And that was your mistake.” Ezra didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger.
Marbella stood before him, shocked by what transpired, before crumbling to the ground. Blood poured from the wound in the middle of her forehead while thick black lines followed the trail of her veins. Her skin turned an unearthly shade of gray. The others came running their howls of outrage rang out in the tepid night.
The ground rumbled. Steam rose from the cracks in the grass. Ezra balanced himself as the breaks became large fissures splitting the soil in two. A flash of light appeared in front of him, bathing the whole area in its brilliance. Ezra stumbled back, shielding his eyes from the illumination. From the opening, a set of hands attached to thick arms encased in a black jacket appeared. Designs painted in white filled the man’s chest and stomach while a white skull adorned his face in the same paint. He wore a black, leather top hat with rooster feathers and beads attached to it.
A fat cigar hung from the corner of his mouth and around his neck, the thickest snake Ezra had ever seen became a macabre necklace of sorts. A bolt of fear slid down his spine. The Baron. A shimmer of movement in front of Ezra drew his gaze from the man who appeared out of the ground. Marbella’s deceased form wavered then became two distinct parts. One stayed as the shell of who she’d been and the other her spirit.
Her translucent eyes flashed open as did her mouth. Her arms flew forward seeking purchase along the broken and tattered grass. Terror was etched on her face as unseen hands pulled her back toward the man who appeared only moments before.
“I dun told you,” the Baron said. “A life for a life. You signed dat line. You belong to me.”
Ezra swallowed hard. He couldn’t believe what he saw, however he’d seen a multitude of things over the years. Nothing compared to this though. Marbella continued to drift towards the Baron, as he stood waiting. He didn’t pay a lick of attention to Ezra, his gaze seemingly fixated on the woman trying her darnedest to stay put.
“But de udder one. Ma cher. My betrothed. Where she be?” The Baron’s gaze met Ezra. Death swirled in his eyes.
“You’re not getting Clara,” Ezra said. “She is my mate.”
The Baron laughed. He stretched out his hand, reaching for Marbella. When his fingers curled around her shoulder, she screamed and writhed against the ground. Her form shimmered, fractured then disappeared along with the opening. “There, now we talk.” The Baron wiped his hands together, as if he cleaned some unseen dirt from them.
“I said,” Ezra began. “She is my mate. You will not get Clara.”
The Baron took another step forward. “I believe you be mistaken. I have a deal. Marbella promised me a life. Ma cher’s life.”
“She misspoke,” Ezra growled. Clara’s life is not one to be given away.
It will not happen.”
The Baron laughed. “Oh, it will. Tell ma cher I will be seeing her soon. Tell her the Baron Samedi has missed her and next time, I won’t be denied.”
In another brilliant flash of light, he disappeared once more. The wolves that had charged him, were nowhere to be found. Even when he came back to the small clearing where the fire burned, nothing. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Ezra had to get back to the manor. He had to protect his mate. He ran from the park in the direction of his home.
Then, he heard it. The soft squalls of a baby. He tracked it. Ezra inched through the brush, stopping every so often to listen for the soft cries of a hungry infant. Again, it whimpered. Ezra took another step then stopped when he spotted a mound of dirt. What in the hell? The cry came once more, from the pile. Ezra didn’t hesitate. He fell the ground in front of the small grave and began to dig.
He didn’t have to do much, the small runt smelled of fresh birth, wolf-pup and... no. He couldn’t believe what he smelled. He unearthed the small, naked bundle and pressed him to his chest. The boy’s breathing was weak. He couldn’t be full term, he’d been too small. Ezra removed his shirt and draped it over the child. His...grandchild.
The night replayed in his mind over and over as he hurried through the city. Of course, he questioned everything that happened. Perhaps he got it wrong. Had he really seen what he did. Had the boy in his arms smelled like his son? Yes, he had. He slammed through the door, sending everyone running. His chest heaved from exertion as he tried to calm his breath and explain what he saw. The minute Clara descended the stairs, nothing else mattered to him.
Ezra raced to her side and gathered her into his arms. He breathed in her scent to remind him she was still alive and there with him. He’d never admit it to anyone but her, but the Baron scared the shit out of him and he didn’t like the idea of man getting anywhere near his mate or his family.
“What happened?” Jonah prodded. “What are you carrying?”
“I met the Baron tonight and he isn’t happy.” Ezra kissed the top of Clara’s head then gently uncurled the bundle in his arms. “I have no way to understand how this occurred, but we must keep it quiet.”
