by C V Leigh
“Thanks, Miss Whiting,” Ben said before jogging away. Derek lifted his hand, pointing the keys towards the car and pressed a button on the fob to unlock it.
She smiled, watching Ben run to catch up with his older brother, before turning to Derek.
“Is everything okay?” Derek asked, sensing she wanted to tell him something.
“Yes, fine. I’ll walk you out.” She shot a quick look at the receptionist and fell into step beside Derek as they made their way to the car. Michael was strapping Ben into the back seat, with the youngest Kincaid boy complaining he was old enough to do it himself now.
Martha pursed her lips and dug her hands into the pockets of her beige trousers. “I saw a man hanging around the school gates the other day. We were outside, and he called Benji over.”
“What?” Derek gaped.
“Benji didn’t hear him. He was busy playing on the climbing frame. I took the children inside immediately and reported the incident to Security, but when they checked the CCTV, they couldn’t find anything.” She looked intently at him. “They told me they were going to report it to the Council. I’m not convinced they did.”
Derek folded his arms across his chest. “And nobody thought to let his parents know?”
“Mrs. Lewisham, the headteacher…” She glanced over her shoulder. “She thinks I’m seeing things again. I… I’m an empath. My gift is intuition, but occasionally I see things that aren’t there.” A sad smile tweaked at the corner of her lips.
“Why didn’t the cameras pick anything up?”
Miss Whiting shrugged. “Black spot? Or maybe they’re on the fritz.” She took a breath. “I shouldn’t be saying this, but the school’s having financial problems. A lot of things are lacking, and they’re terrified the Council will shut them down if they find out.” Grabbing hold of Derek’s hands, she stared deep into his eyes. “Whoever he was, he wasn’t someone I’d want to see again. There was something… dark… about him.” She shivered.
“What did he look like?”
“White man, quite tall, slender, dark hair. Looked like it might be a bit,” she twirled her finger beside her head, “curly. He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Blue, I think? Maybe grey? But he still looked smart and expensive.”
“Thank you. I’ll make sure to tell their parents. If you see him again…” He took his wallet from the pocket of his jacket and sifted through it until he found an old business card, then patted himself down. Martha offered him the pen that had been clipped to her lanyard. He used it to scribble down a number on the back of the card. “This is my personal mobile number. We don’t get great service at the main house, though. This one,” he pointed at the printed number on the front, “will connect you to the offices of Sanguis Luna Law in Edinburgh. Tell them you need to get a message to me.” He gazed straight into her green eyes and smiled warmly. “You have Mr. Kincaid’s home number.”
“Yes,” she said. “If I see anything, I’ll make sure to call you.” She glanced at the two boys in the Audi. “Take care of them.”
“Of course. Thank you.” Derek climbed into the driver’s side of the car and checked over his nephews. Ben was wriggling around on the car seat, complaining he was getting too big for it, even though he was small for his age. Michael had his elbow resting on the door, and his gaze fixed out the window–less than two months until his thirteenth birthday, and already a sullen teenager.
He twisted the key in the ignition and drove away from the school, leaving the tall, red-brick building behind, his mind whirring. His gut tied into intricate knots. It had taken all his willpower not to storm back into the school and demand the CCTV footage, demand to speak to the headteacher. But Alistair’s fury would eclipse his own when he found out, and he’d had the children to consider. Losing his temper in front of them would not have served any purpose, especially when he had to focus on getting them home.
Chapter Seven
Faol Hall, Cairngorms
Megan arched her back, pushing her head into the thick pillows, and stretched out her arms and legs. The sun broke through the partially open curtains, warming her bare skin. She reached out to stroke the empty space beside her. It had been good to fall asleep in Alistair’s arms, her head resting against his chest as she listened to the steady thump of his heart. It had a while since they’d shared a bed. Ever since her problems had started, he’d taken to sleeping in a spare room. To give her space, he’d said. She craved his attention, his touch. Waking up alone left an ache of disappointment in her chest.
She got out of bed and walked to the closed bedroom door. Leaning against it, she listened for any signs of movement. As she took a deep breath, she caught the scent of Jacob’s natural musk. Of course—Alistair had asked his brother to guard her.
Shaking her head, she padded across the carpet; the floorboards beneath creaked. From the chest of the drawers, she retrieved a pair of knickers and bra that didn’t match and a long T-shirt. She put them on, then went to the wardrobe. She glanced over her shoulder, nervous they’d hear her opening the doors. She had no doubt Jacob would assume she was trying to leave, against Alistair’s instructions. She didn’t need or want him bursting in, his head filled with unwarranted accusations, ready to fling them at her. He’d been cautious around her since the day he arrived at Faol Hall. After her first bad change a few weeks earlier, Alistair had called him home, pulling him away from his job, his home, in Edinburgh. She was sure he held it against her. It had gotten worse since she’d attacked him. Not that she could blame him.
Guilt weighed heavily in her gut. She hadn’t meant to injure him. And although she knew Alistair was right–he’d received worse, and would heal quickly–shame and remorse still ebbed and flowed through her. She’d tried to apologise, but he was having none of it. As thick headed as he was broad shouldered, he was capable of holding a grudge—forever if he could.
Carefully, Megan stood on her tiptoes and searched behind the stack of jumpers she kept on the top shelf. She paused and listened once again for movement, but Jacob was still acting the sentinel and made no attempt to open the door.
Her fingers brushed against a wooden box, hidden by the pile of wool. She pulled it down and ran her hands over the intricate detailing carved into the top. She sat, cross-legged, on the carpet and took off the lid, revealing her secrets.
Megan dug through the photos and letters, dating back to her life before the Kincaids had taken her in. Her heart sank, as though the pictures were made of lead, dragging her down. She picked one up and trailed her fingertips down the glossy sheet. Nathan stared up at her, his smile not quite reaching his hooded brown eyes, his dark brown hair slicked back and hanging to above his collar in light curls. She ran her thumb over his clean-shaven jaw and, not for the first time, wondered where he was and what he was doing.
Her heartbeat grew louder until it pounded within the bony confines of her chest. Her pulse throbbed through her veins, ready to explode. She’d always been drawn to him. She loved Alistair and her life with the Kincaid clan, but there was a part of her that would always belong to Nathan Trevell. Perhaps it was because he was the one who had given her the power to transform. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that the strength of her feelings for him overpowered her, and for some reason, it was getting worse.
She put the photograph back in the box and shut the lid. Her breath caught in her throat when footsteps neared the door. Quickly, she jumped up and hid the box back behind the jumpers. When Alistair opened the door, she was in front of the wardrobe, picking over each garment. She took out a pair of jeans and tugged them on before turning to smile at him.
“Good morning,” he said. Her eyes widened when she saw the tray in his hands–containing a plate filled with sausages, black pudding, bacon, and eggs, along with a tall glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice, and a pot of tea. He placed it on the bed. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“Ravenous.” The downside to shifting was the desperate hunger whi
ch followed. Usually, after a run, the pack would feast on cooked meats. Alistair seemed to delight in feeding everyone. But he’d fallen away from his normal habits recently, something she blamed herself for. She was now confined to her room, her meals brought to her. She missed sitting around the table, missed the smiles and laughter that went along with eating as a family.
Megan closed the wardrobe doors and walked over to the bed. She leaned down and picked up a piece of bacon. As she nibbled on it, grease dripped down her chin. Alistair used the pad of his thumb to wipe it away before sucking it clean. Her heart lifted a little.
“How are you feeling today?” he asked, concern in his eyes.
“Much better,” she said around a mouthful of sausage. “Thank you.” Megan swallowed it down and licked her fingers. “Please don’t leave me.” She entwined her fingers with his. “I meant it when I said I’m better with you around. I don’t feel so…” She searched for the right word. “Lost. I don’t know what’s happening and it scares me.” Her voice wavered.
Alistair sighed. “Everyone is home,” he said after a brief moment.
“Everyone?” Hope flooded her chest.
“Almost,” he said with a nod. “Tess and Zane arrived last night with Nicholas. I’ve had a phone call from Drake to say he’s collected the children from school. Their flight was cancelled. Mechanical issues. There’s another one tomorrow morning.” He picked up the tray and put it on the bedside table.
Megan narrowed her eyes and studied him. “Whatever you’re not telling me, I can handle it. I won’t lose control. I promise. Not as long as you’re with me.”
He smoothed his long fingers over hers and tenderly stroked the back of her hand. “You have nothing to worry about,” he said, placing a tentative kiss on her forehead.
She blinked, then wrinkled her nose. “Alistair, please don’t lie to me.”
For a moment neither of them said anything. They simply stared into each other’s eyes.
Alistair took a deep breath, preparing himself. “When Drake got to the school, Ben’s teacher raised some concerns—”
Megan’s eyes widened. “Is he okay? What’s happened?”
“Ben’s fine. Michael’s fine. She thought she saw someone hanging around the school fences, watching Ben.” Alistair sat down at the end of the bed and patted the mattress.
“What? Who?”
“She’s not sure. She gave Drake a description, and he’s informed the Council. We’ve raised some serious concerns about the security there, so it’s being fully investigated.” He rubbed his jaw. “Honestly, if I’d known there was a problem, I’d have taken them out long before now. All the money being ploughed into that bloody school, it doesn’t bear thinking about.”
“What about this man?” she pressed. “Who do you think it could be?” She sat down beside him.
“Nathan Trevell.”
Megan flopped back on the bed and stared up at the canopy. “Nathan?”
“We think he might have returned to the UK, but we can’t be sure.”
Her mind darted around frantically. “You think?”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t know for sure.” She sat up and stared at him.
“No.”
It made sense. Everything made sense. She’d been unable to control herself around him. She was a different person, a different wolf–taken over by violence and a savage need.
“The Council received an anonymous tip,” Alistair continued. “An image from Border Control CCTV showed someone arriving at Heathrow with a remarkable resemblance to him—though he travelled under an alias. Coupled with the information Drake obtained from the school,” he exhaled, “it’s not unreasonable to assume it was him.”
“So… the Council has had an anonymous tip, and he’s been seen hanging around the school, and nobody thought to warn us?”
“Nicholas and Zane had a meeting with the Council before they drove over. They had no idea Nathan had been seen near the school. Nobody seems to have been able to track him.” The muscle beneath his eye ticked, and he ground his back teeth together. His eyes flecked with yellow as anger and irritation swelled inside him.
“How long do they think he’s been back?”
“A few weeks. Maybe longer.” His anger was palpable, seeping through his tone.
“You mean when I—”
“Yes.”
She swallowed. “Does he know where I am?” Her heart raced, and her stomach lurched into her throat. A mix of excitement and fear, dread and anticipation. It rushed through her veins, pumped wildly around her body.
“There is no reason for him to know where you are. He wasn’t informed you joined our clan after the trials. As far as he’s concerned…” He paused his whole body stiffening. “We don’t even know with any certainty that it was him—at the airport or the school. And if it was, we don’t know that he’s back for you.”
“Of course he is. He killed my family. He wants me.” She looked up at him with wide eyes. “He won’t stop until…” Bile rose into her mouth. “If he hurts any of you…” She clasped her hands together, stopping them from shaking. Her stomach burned.
“Megan.” The warning in Alistair’s voice was apparent. “Own it.” He gripped her arms and gave her a shake. She stared into his bright blue eyes, her mouth open as she grabbed for each breath. He kept hold of her. “You are safe. We are safe. The children are safe. Drake won’t let anything happen to them.”
“Nobody’s safe.” Her voice was a mere whisper, floating on air. “He won’t stop until I’m his again.”
“I’m not going to let that happen. You’re part of our family now. You’re my family, and I love you. I will never let him hurt you.”
She curled into him, shuddering. She could still smell a trace of Nathan on her skin, still feel his touch. She remembered him sinking his teeth into her arm, and how she’d been shocked it didn’t hurt. Megan rubbed the spot that should have been scarred from his bite, but her pale flesh was unmarked. She’d walked away from the fire without a single burn. She’d walked away from him unscathed. Yet his pull was as strong as it had ever been.
He was back, she knew it. She felt it. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to push him away, or bring him into the fold.
Chapter Eight
Jacob was one of those people whose looks were deceptive. From the outside, he appeared to be little more than hired muscle, thickset and thick headed. But, as well as being the tallest and strongest of the Kincaid clan, he’d also been blessed with an IQ that led to him gaining a Ph.D. in law by the time he was twenty-three. He’d been made a partner of Sanguis Luna Law while Zane was still at university and now worked closely with the British Paranormal Council on all legal matters.
Tess studied him as she drank her coffee. He looked tired, drained almost. The dark waves he always wore in a tight bun at the back of his head had been left loose to trail down to his shoulders, still damp from his morning shower.
“What?” he snapped.
She stared into her mug. “N-nothing.” He’d been in a constant bad mood since the moment she and Zane had arrived. Probably due to him being put on guard-dog duty. She’d thought his brooding attractive when they’d first met, but now it was just annoying.
“Spit it out, Tess.” It was no secret he’d disagreed with Zane’s decision to turn her. Five years later, and he was still irked by her presence in the pack.
“I was just wondering when the last time you went for a run was? It’s not good, you know, being cooped up all the time.”
“Are you seriously trying to lecture me on being a lycanthrope?”
Tess swallowed and shook her head. “No. Sorry.” She should have known better than to say anything at all. Like all female lycanthropes, she’d been made, whereas he had been born. A genetic mutation meant no female lycanthrope child ever survived birth. All four Kincaid brothers were natural wolves, brought up in the family home of Faol Hall, trained from birth to understand what they
were. She hadn’t even known lycanthropes existed until she was twenty-two.
“Morning, all,” Zane sang, swanning into the kitchen. He went straight for the percolator and poured himself a black coffee before slumping into the chair between them. He looked from one to the other. “Did I miss something?”
Planting his hands on the table, Jacob then pushed away and stood up. “Just your girlfriend letting a bit of power go to her pretty little head.”
“That’s not fair!” Tess protested.
“Isn’t it?” Jacob walked over and dropped his mug into the sink. “Ever since Alistair nominated you to have a seat on the Council, you’ve been acting as his second in command. You’re a fucking secretary, nothing more.”
“What seat?” Zane gaped at Tess. Colour crept up her throat and into her cheeks.
Jacob raised an eyebrow. “Keeping more secrets, are we? You’re a liability, Tess. You should have been cut loose a long time ago.”
“Hey!” Zane jumped up and faced his brother. “You don’t get to speak to her like that.”
“I’ll speak to her however the hell I like. She can’t even do her fucking job properly,” Jacob said, snorting a laugh.
Zane shoved his brother. “Apologise.”
“Or what?” Jacob laughed. “Come on then, pup.” He spread his arms wide, inviting Zane to throw the first punch.
“Stop it!” Tess stepped between them. “Just stop it.” She held up her hands, fingers digging into their chests.
“Getting your girlfriend to finish your fights now?” Jacob’s lips twitched into a smile. “You’re suited to each other.”
“Don’t be such a jerk.” She turned to Zane. “Back off.”
“Do as you’re told, pup.”
Zane clenched his fist, reached over Tess and smashed his knuckles into Jacob’s jaw. Tess ducked out of the way, screaming as the brothers tumbled to the floor in a tussle. Growls and snarls emanated from the mass of masculinity as each one tried to best the other. Blood splattered across the tiled floor.
