by Keri Arthur
Cade's assistant climbed out of the car. Savannah rose, getting out of the ambulance crew's way as they tended to Cade.
"Could you tape off the area?” she asked, before Trista could say anything. “A square up to that blue car should do it."
Trista's eyebrows rose. What that meant, exactly, Savannah wasn't sure.
"He called me here to check out a crime scene. Didn't sound like he was a part of it at the time."
"At the time, he wasn't."
"Our killer shot him?"
Savannah nodded. “With white ash."
Trista's gaze flickered to where the bloodied arrow still lay on the ground, right next to the gleaming pool of Cade's blood. “He or she means business."
"It was a she. And she didn't mean to kill him, just maim.” She pointed to the crossbow and specks of blood still gleaming wetly on the roadside not far up the road. “I tore that from her grasp as she sped off. The blood is hers."
Trista glanced at the weapon. When her cold, golden gaze returned, it was tinged by a hint of surprise. “You attacked a moving car in wolf form?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because the wolf is faster than the human.” A fact Trista undoubtedly knew.
"Then you weren't in the immediate area?"
"No.” Savannah bit back her impatience as her gaze followed the stretcher bearing Cade toward the ambulance. “I was heading back toward town."
"Then how did you know he was in trouble?"
She hesitated. How had she known? She shouldn't have, not with her shields on full. Yet she'd felt his desperation, his fear, had almost fallen in pain the moment the arrow had rent his flesh. Only anger and her own fear had kept her going, had kept her attacking. And the worst of it was she would have killed that woman if she'd had the chance. Would have ripped out her throat as easily as she'd torn through the woman's arm. A wolf defended its mate at any cost, and she'd been more than ready to do just that.
Except Cade wasn't her mate. Not in that sense, anyway.
She shrugged with a casualness she didn't really feel. “Look, I just did. Do you want to go with your boss to the hospital while I seal off this area?"
"You go. I'll start proceedings here.” Trista reached down into the bag she was carrying and pulled out the crime scene tape.
Her matter-of-fact tone and actions released the tension that had been imperceptibly tightening Savannah's muscles. She smiled wryly as she climbed into the back of the ambulance. Okay, so maybe Trista wasn't bedding her boss, despite the rumors. But her reaction to the mere thought that Trista might be one of Cade's lovers, on top of her instinctive attack on the woman in the truck, proved one thing. She wasn't anywhere near ready to get over the man.
So the question was, as Neva had asked, what was she going to do about it?
Fight for him, the wild part of her said. Fight to keep him, and don't let go. Not this time.
But the part of her that had offered him her heart, only to have him abuse it, trembled in fear. Was she really ready to do that to herself again?
I don't know.
Was that the truth, or was she just lying to herself?
She braced herself as the ambulance took off, wincing a little as the siren's howl seemed to echo through her aching head. But it couldn't stop the questions tumbling endlessly through her mind.
Was she lying to herself?
Maybe.
Was she ready to face hurt again?
No, not really.
But if she didn't open herself up to the possibility of hurt, how could she open herself to love? She'd spent the last ten years cocooned in the safety of Ronan's arms, but the time had come for her to step free and take a risk again.
And maybe the simple truth was she had to take that risk with the one man she'd never really been able to forget. While Cade might not feel anything more than simple lust, she owed it to herself to at least find out. No matter how much the end result might hurt.
Because she still loved him. She could lie to her sister. She could even try lying to herself. But her instinctive reactions here tonight showed the truth.
Despite the ten years that had passed between them, despite her anger at his actions—then and now—her heart still lay in his unfeeling hands.
Fate was a bitch; there was no doubt about it.
But the cards had been dealt, and it was far too late in the game to change them. All she could do was figure out a way to win the hand.
And maybe even the man.
* * * *
Awareness returned slowly. Pain hit first—not sharp pain, just a muted, constant ache that thumped in time with the throbbing in his head. But gradually, sounds overtook his focus on the aches and he stirred. Somewhere to his left came the soft ticking of a clock, and from directly ahead, the squeak of a trolley being wheeled along and the murmur of distant voices. Close to his right came the slow inhale and exhale of someone sleeping.
It was a sound Cade would have recognized anywhere. He'd once spent his nights just lying beside Vannah, listening to her sleep. Wondering when the job that had become something of a dream come true would all come crashing down.
Which it had, all too soon.
Because of the lies that had stood between them. Because of who he was and what he had been there to do.
He opened his eyes. She was curled up in the chair next to him, wrapped in a blanket that covered her from neck to toe. She'd taken off the black wig, and her golden hair fell around her face, a silken shower that made his fingers itch with the need to just run through it.
Even though ten years had passed, in sleep she was still that innocent looking woman he'd met so long ago. And she was just as beautiful, even with the scar. Only when she was awake could you see the real change. Once, her green eyes had been filled with life and laughter. Now the only thing to be seen there was wariness and distance. And that made him sad. He might have been at Rosehall to do a job, but he'd tried to shield her as much as he could, even if she thought otherwise.
Part of him wished they could just start over again—wished the history between them could be just swept away so that all that was left was intense attraction. It would have been fun to explore just where that attraction might have led. But he was who he was, and she was who she was, and the way they now interacted with each other was never going to change. He was too hotheaded, too possessive in nature, and she was too free spirited. It wouldn't have worked back then. It probably wouldn't work now.
He forced his gaze from her and looked around. White walls, white-sheeted beds, and white coated men and women walking past the door of his room. He was obviously in a hospital.
So why was he here? Memory hit even as the question went through his mind. He realized what had happened. What she'd done.
Anger surged through him, and his gaze jumped back to her. As if sensing his fury, her cool green eyes opened and she stared back at him. The defiance so evident in her gaze only fueled the fires of his anger to greater heights.
"You had no right to do what you did.” Though he tried to keep his voice carefully neutral, anger crept through. Raiding his mind was one thing—he could hardly rail against the intrusion when he did it for a living himself—but raiding his psyche, his very soul, was another matter entirely.
"I did it to save your life.” Her voice was as cool as her eyes, yet he sensed an anger in her that was equal to his own.
As if she had anything to be angry about this time.
"You accuse me of mind rape, yet all I did was read your mind. What you and your sister did last night was a far worse kind of intrusion."
"You didn't just read my mind, Cade; you broke through several shields to do it."
"And you didn't?"
"We didn't break through. We parted."
"There's a difference?"
"There most certainly is."
He snorted. “You sure you're not trying to justify your own actions?"
"No. And I can show you the damn
difference if you want."
"I hardly think you could take my mind now that I'm awake and fully aware."
"Cade, you know jack when it comes to telepathy. The golden pack has had centuries of training behind them. We've forgotten more than your goddamn teachers at the academy will ever learn."
The academy had some of the best telepaths in the States as trainers. Granted, none were from the golden packs, but that didn't mean they were any less capable. “You have no idea what you're talking about, woman."
Her eyebrows rose. “Meaning you're willing to partake in a little demonstration?"
"Anytime, babe."
She snorted softly. “If you weren't still recovering, I'd give you a goddamn lesson right here."
"Oh, don't worry. I'm feeling fit enough not only to repel an intruder, but give her a lesson in real psychic strength."
Her gaze narrowed, her beautiful eyes becoming little more than green slits of anger. “You are such an arrogant sod. Maybe I should have let you bleed to death."
"So why didn't you?” he snapped back. “At least then you'd be free of the moon promises."
She flung the blanket away and stood up. He caught a brief flash of long golden legs before the black leather coat she was wearing fell into place around them.
"You know, you're right. I'm a fool for not even thinking of that."
"I'm surprised it wasn't your first consideration."
She stopped near the window and crossed her arms. The rising light of day warmed her skin and made her hair shine like a beacon. “My first consideration was actually marking the bitch who'd shot you."
"And did you?” Hopefully, something good had come out of this mess.
"Of course.” The brief look she threw his way was almost caustic. “I tore her arm and retrieved the crossbow. Trista is running a check on the prints she pulled off it."
"Has anyone presented to the emergency room with wolf bites?"
"No. Ronan's contacted the local doc and asked him to advise us if anyone comes to him."
"Good. We have a line on either of the trucks or drivers yet?"
"Not from my people. Your people are hardly likely to inform me if they have, are they?"
"We are a team on this—"
"No, you and your people are the team. My staff and I are just the convenient footmen. And it's working against us, Cade. We need to pool resources and work together to catch these people."
"The IIS has more than enough experience—"
"This isn't your normal murder scenario. This is about you and me and making us pay for the supposed sin of bringing Rosehall down. These people know us—"
"Of course they know us,” he broke in, arguing the point even though he knew she was right. “Nelle James is behind the attacks. She was your best friend, the one you confided in—including the reason I was there."
"It wasn't Nelle James in that truck."
"You sure of that? Or are you still trying to protect her?"
Heat warmed her cheeks. Anger, he sensed, not embarrassment. “Unless Nelle has had a face lift that has taken more than twenty years off her appearance, then yes, I'm sure."
He frowned. “What do you mean?"
"Nelle was twenty years older than me, which means she'd be close to fifty right now. The woman in the truck had to be in her twenties. She was also blonde underneath the wig she was wearing."
His eyebrows rose. “We have two blondes?"
"Apparently so.” She crossed her arms. “I gave a description to Trista when she was in here earlier. I presume she'll inform you if she finds a match. In the meantime, I have a burger joint to check out."
He flung off the blankets. “I'll come with you."
"I don't think so."
"You are not wandering out there alone."
"I won't be alone. Ronan will be with me."
"No, he won't.” He forced himself into an upright position. Even such a small amount of movement had him puffing like he'd run a marathon and as dizzy as hell.
"You lost a lot of blood last night. You need rest, not exertion."
"I need to find out who this killer is.” Needed to be with her as much as possible, while the moon was on his side.
She walked across to the bed, her steps a tattoo of sound that seemed to echo through his head. “Stop the macho act and just be sensible.” She pressed a hand against his shoulder and pushed him back. The ease with which she did it spoke of his weakness. “If you rest, you can be out of here tonight."
He caught her hand and raised it to her lips, kissing her fingers. Desire stirred the air—his and hers. “I intend to be. We have a night to make up for."
She raised an eyebrow, a teasing light in her eyes. “You've been shot, we have no idea who the killers are, and you're worried about sex?” She shook her head. “You're incredible."
He grinned wolfishly and tugged her towards him. She resisted for a fleeting second, and then she allowed herself to be pulled onto the bed. Her body pressed heat into his side, and even the muted aches gave way to the quick burn of need for her.
"Oh, I intend to be incredible,” he said softly, the rich scent of summer flowers filling his nostrils as his lips brushed hers.
She raised her free hand and ran her fingers down his cheek, her touch as tender as her expression. “You always were."
"Then why did you keep going to Jontee?” Even as the words left his mouth he realized his stupidity. Yet it was a question he needed the answer to.
She pulled away, her tender expression fading as quickly as it had appeared. “Because I made a promise."
"You made a promise to me, too."
"Yes, but my promise to Jontee predated the one to you."
He shifted position, trying to get comfortable, trying to control the instinctive anger running through him. If he let that anger loose, he'd never get an answer to the one question that had haunted him through the years.
"If what we shared was so good, why did you even need to fulfill your promise to Jontee?"
"Because I don't believe in breaking promises."
"Even at the risk of losing something that could have been special?"
She studied him for a moment, her expression giving little away. Yet he could feel the tension in her, the indecision. “Was it special?” she said eventually. “For you, I mean."
"It was good,” he said. “Good enough that I didn't want to share it, or you, with anyone else. Yet you made me.” His gaze caught and held hers, demanding that she answer and put to rest the one question he'd silently asked every night for the last ten years. “I just need to know why."
She crossed her arms. “I was at Rosehall for six months before I became one of Jontee's true believers. Part of the ceremony was a promise to share his bed for a year."
"Was it a magical bond?"
"No. But Jontee was very powerful. Very ... hypnotic. You wanted to please him, wanted to do as he asked."
"So why make a moon promise with me?"
She didn't answer for several minutes, just stared at him, as if debating within. Then she blinked and looked away. “You have to understand,” she said softly. “I wanted to be with just you, but I was also very afraid."
"Of what? Me?” He couldn't help the incredulity in his voice. “While you and I might never agree as to whether my reading your mind that night had been a form of rape, you surely had to know I'd never actually hurt you. Not physically. And not even mentally—not intentionally, anyway."
And he would have killed any man who did.
Her gaze returned to him. “I wasn't so much afraid of you, but what I was feeling. What I was doing. I was eighteen, for Gods sake, and just beginning to explore my sexuality. What I found with you—the sheer power of what was going on between us—scared me. So I guess I hedged my bets and kept seeing you both."
"And yet you claimed to love me. That's a strange sort of love, Savannah."
Something flickered in her eyes, something he couldn't identify. “I thought
you didn't hear me say that."
"I heard it. I just didn't believe it."
Her eyes widened a little. “Why not?"
"Because how can you say you love one man when you continue to fuck another?"
It was a harsh thing to say, yet he didn't regret it, even when he saw the flash of hurt in her lovely eyes. Because it was the truth. Love wasn't just words, it was actions, and her actions simply hadn't matched what she'd said. If he ever said he loved a woman, it would be because he was utterly and totally sure. It would be forever.
"That's unfair,” she said softly, the hurt he'd seen in her eyes lightly touching her voice. “You're six years older than me. You'd already had your chance to explore when you came to Rosehall. You cannot expect the same sort of maturity from someone who has only just begun to experiment."
"Love doesn't change its boundaries according to age, Vannah. It just is."
"So I was just supposed to give my heart, my soul and my body to a man who was only there to catch a killer, even though he never once admitted to any feeling other than desire?” She shook her head. “I may have been young, and I may have been emotionally immature, but I wasn't a total fool."
"So why did you say you loved me when you weren't even sure?"
"Maybe I was just caught up in the moment.” She glanced at her watch and screwed up her nose. “As much as I'd love to continue this discussion, I have to go meet Ronan and interview the diner's owner.” She hesitated, then added, “Steve's on guard duty outside your door. He'll keep all but your team and the assigned nurse and doctor out."
"And me in?"
"Most definitely,” she said, “and we will continue this conversation, Cade, because I really believe it's important for us both."
She walked out before he could reply. He blew out a breath, and wondered why he felt more drained after that conversation than he ever had after chasing criminals.
"Geez, I wouldn't mind a bit of that action,” Anton said, walking through the doorway but looking over his shoulder. Cade had no doubt as to who he was looking at.
