Chapter 34
Kane paced the length of his office, running agitated hands through his hair. Ever since receiving Ryne’s call, he’d been on the phone informing other packs to expect an influx of refugees. That had been the easy part, now he had to decide who lived… and who died. His mind skittered away from that unpalatable point; for the moment he’d concentrate on those who would be sent out first. Of course, the pups would be spared, the expectant and nursing mothers too. Young families, strong males… Each group would need a leader, someone they could turn to during the difficult times ahead as they tried to assimilate into a new pack, but who did he choose?
A few had already stepped forward, volunteering to stay behind. Helen had been one of the first; she was the wife of the late Alpha and, as she’d said, her life was empty without her mate. Kane understood and agreed, but the others… John, his beta, said he’d remain, but Kane had refused. The man had a mate and a young son. Besides, John was a good leader; he could easily handle being in charge of a group.
The door slammed open behind him and he turned, ready to growl at the unannounced intruder. Instead, his growl turned to a greeting. Elise stood framed in the doorway, the sunlight streaming behind her, casting her in an angelic glow. That was how he saw her; his angel, his mate. She was the gentle softness, the comfort he turned to, understanding, giving…
“What the hell are you thinking, Kane? I won’t do it!” Her uncharacteristic venom shocked him and he stared at her in surprise.
“Elise, I’m busy. I don’t have time right now… ”
“Then you can damn well make time. We need to discuss this. You can’t just order me to leave!”
It was then that he noticed the piece of paper in her hand. She’d been out when he’d gone to tell her to pack for the dispersal. He tightened his jaw. “You’re pregnant. Of course you’re leaving.”
“And I don’t get any say in this?”
Kane was tired, stressed; he didn’t need an argument. He stared out the window. “I’m Alpha. You’ll do as I say.”
“No. I won’t go.”
A rebuke was ready on his lips when he turned to look at her and noticed the watery shimmer of her eyes. He stepped towards her. “Elise—”
“I won’t go Kane. I won’t leave you.” She had folded her arms tightly around herself, but her chin was lifted in a sign of defiance.
He walked over to her and gathered her close, resting his chin on top of her head. “Elise you have to go. Think of our child.”
“Growing up in a strange pack, without a father?”
“At least he’ll still be alive.”
“But what kind of life will it be? Another Alpha’s son won’t be easily accepted. He’ll be viewed as an interloper, a potential threat. The others will be wary of him.”
Kane rubbed his hand over the slight curve of her waist. “As they should be. My son will be an Alpha one day. He’ll lead his own pack… But only if he’s given the chance to grow up.” He leaned back and touched Elise’s chin, forcing her to look at him. “It’s your duty to ensure our child survives.”
Elise bit her lip. “I don’t want to lose you… ”
“And you might not. This could turn out to be nothing, but we can’t take the chance.”
She ran her hands over his chest and Kane closed his eyes, taking the moment to revel in the exquisite sensations she could create with just the simplest touch. How he’d miss this.
“Kane, can I at least stay until the final call comes? It will be torture, being away from you, not knowing what’s happening.” Her voice trembled as she spoke and she tightened her fingers on his shirt until they were clutching the material.
Kane groaned as he opened his eyes and saw tears beginning to slowly drip down her cheeks. He cupped her face, trailing his lips over the damp surface. “Shh, don’t cry.” How desperately he wanted to tell her that everything would be all right, that there was no need for tears, but it would be a lie. His heart ached just as hers did; the very idea of being separated from her was eating away at the core of his being. He pressed his mouth to hers, offering his comfort and his love, all the while hoping against hope that Ryne was making progress.
*****
It was a stab in the dark, but something had told Ryne to head to Greyson’s estate if he wanted to find Melody and her boss. The city was too big to search, so following his instincts seemed as good a course of action as any. He informed Bryan of his plans and reaffirmed the protocols to follow should he fail to check back in. Daniel was to continue to search for information on Greyson and Aldrich; the packs needed to know everything they could about the men they were up against.
Satisfied that he’d done all he could, Ryne hailed a taxi and gave the address for Greyson’s estate.
As he sat in the back, Ryne stared unseeingly out the window. The driver wove in and out of traffic, the vehicle swaying slightly from side to side or jerking forward when brakes were suddenly applied; shouts of annoyance and coarsely worded threats were tossed between drivers. Ryne let it all wash over him, lost in thought.
His wolf desperately needed to find Melody; to know that she was safe. The thought of her alone, going through the change with no warning, no one to comfort or explain, ate away at his gut. Would her body and her mind accept what was happening to her or would she fight against the inevitable? What if she refused to accept it? Or if the effects of the full moon forced her body to transform before it was ready? Nadia said not everyone survived. The thought sent icy fear washing over him.
Yet, did it matter? The cold logical part of his brain forced him to examine the idea. If she knew of the secret—if she’d already spread the word—then she was as good as dead anyway. Wasn’t it better to die from the rejected transformation than from his hand? Could he actually look her in the eye and deliver a fatal blow?
He was Alpha. He knew his duty and yet… Images of Melody danced before him. Her big, brown eyes and long lashes, the way she’d lift her chin and narrow her eyes before delivering some acerbic comment. Her quirky humour, her knack for getting into trouble. The wonder in her eyes as he pointed out the intricacies of nature. The way she looked under him, lost in the throes of passion…
Ryne tightened his lips. The throes of passion; there hadn’t been enough of that. Twice he’d taken her; both times had been hurried, unexpected. How he longed to have the chance for a slow drawn out mating. A chance to explore every inch of her body, to taste her, to have her crying out in need for the relief only he could give. He’d bury himself between her thighs and sink his teeth into her…
That thought brought him up short. A blood bond was out of the question. Mating as well. He didn’t mate; he had sex. Mating implied something permanent and he couldn’t see a city dwelling, coffee swilling reporter type settling down in Stump River. Not that he planned on asking her to, of course.
Ryne shifted in his seat. Hell! Who was he trying to convince here? He was lying to himself. He knew it. The fear that had gripped him since finding Lucy was more than just fear of the Keeping. It was fear for Melody, for her well-being. He grimaced. Admitting the truth to himself was probably a mistake; it would only make things harder in the end.
Sighing heavily, he noted his surroundings. They’d left the city core behind some time ago. Houses were spread farther apart and situated on expansive lawns. He checked a road sign as they drove past; almost there. A wooded area was coming up to the right. It seemed as good a place as any. He signalled for the driver to pull over.
“This isn’t the address you wanted.” The driver commented and glanced back at him through the rear-view mirror. “Greyson estate is five miles up the road. I’ve driven past it before, but never gone through the gates. Apparently it’s real showy. You know that guy?”
Ryne grunted in a non-committal way and handed over some money, choosing to ignore the man’s question.
“Right. None of my business. I’m just paid to drive.” The man tucked the money away and shrugged
. Once Ryne was out of the vehicle, he drove off without a backward glance.
Ryne watched until the cab was out of sight, thinking that in Stump River he’d have been questioned to death about his motives. Big cities did have their advantages after all, he thought wryly as he stepped into the woods. Double checking that no one was about, he changed into his wolf form.
His padded feet made minimal noise as he ran through the small grouping of trees that constituted a ‘woods’ in city terms. By Stump River standards it was barely worth mentioning, but nonetheless, Ryne was thankful for the cover it provided. Daniel’s research showed the Greyson estate was walled on three sides; the fourth was comprised of this long narrow strip of trees. Ryne was assuming there would be some type of alarm or motion sensor along the perimeter, but his animal form should be able to slip through undetected.
The trees were beginning to thin when his nose picked up a familiar scent. His wolf wanted to sing out with joy, but Ryne forced himself to be silent. To the best of his knowledge the sound of a wolf howling wasn’t common in Chicago and he didn’t want to alert anyone who might be about. He inhaled deeply, revelling in the way Melody’s scent wrapped itself around him. It made his heart beat faster, his blood rush through his veins, bringing his body to life.
Slowing his pace, he tried to pinpoint the exact direction from which the scent was coming. It was a windy day. He hated the wind, the way it made the scents swirl around. His nostrils flared as he tested the air once again sorting, dismissing… There! It was coming from a structure about half a mile away. It appeared to be an abandoned shed, almost invisible due to being covered in vines and surrounded by overgrown shrubbery. Ryne was certain she was in there, but… he analyzed the air again. She wasn’t alone. There was someone else… The stench of the male was unforgettable. A low growl rumbled up from his chest.
He could exact his revenge now; revenge for Lucy, for Melody. His wolf moved into hunting mode, stealthily approaching the small building, carefully gliding from shadow to shadow. His muscles were tensed and ready for action. Every sense was alert, searching for signs of movement, listening for clues as to what might be happening inside.
At first, the voices were indistinct. One was lower pitched; obviously the hated unknown male. The other was softer, hesitant, confused… Melody! At least she was awake; that knowledge provided him with some small degree of comfort.
Ryne returned to his human form and pressed his body against the wall, carefully peeking inside through a dirty window. He could see the back of an elegantly dressed man and, just beyond him, Melody was sitting on a bench. Her eyes were narrowed and she was frowning. Ryne focused on the conversation, trying to determine what was going on.
“Come now, Ms. Greene. Your scruples are going to get you into trouble. Life isn’t simply black or white. It’s a myriad of shades of grey. Situations such as this are so ambiguous. I totally understand how you might feel some form of misplaced loyalty to Mr. Taylor, but think about it. He reneged on your agreement, forcing you into this untenable circumstance. There is no longer any obligation on your part to uphold a verbal agreement. We can easily avoid any further… unpleasantness, if you’d just be reasonable.” The man—whether it was Aldrich, Greyson or some other player Ryne had yet to encounter—was negligently leaning against a table.
Ryne noted the whiteness of Melody’s knuckles as she held onto the edge of the bench on which she sat. He surmised she was still feeling ill, still fighting the effects of the approaching full moon and the genetic changes taking place inside her. He wished he was beside her, offering comfort, explaining the strange feelings and thoughts that were no doubt going through her at this moment. He watched as she shook her head before speaking.
“You know, this doesn’t make any sense to me. Ryne Taylor is just a photographer. No one goes to these lengths to get a report on a guy who takes pictures.”
“As I’ve told you before, it isn’t your place to be asking questions.” The man lifted his chin and stared down his nose at her, as if daring her to make another query.
“Sorry. Asking questions is part of my job. There’s something strange about this. All along I thought it was just eccentricity, but now, you’ve basically kidnapped me—”
“Kidnapped? That could be considered slanderous, Ms. Greene. You have no proof that you’ve been kidnapped. For the past several hours, you’ve been delirious with fever. This is merely a safe place to stay until your condition can be properly assessed. Who knows? You might be contagious with some strange disease you picked up in the wilds of Stump River. You don’t want to risk infecting an unsuspecting public now, do you?”
Melody looked around. “A safe place? In a garden shed? Come on, Mr. Aldrich. Do you really expect me to believe that?”
From his position outside, Ryne nodded, noting the name Melody had used. So this was the mysterious Aldrich that she had called every day. Well, she definitely didn’t appear to be in league with him at this point.
Back inside the building, Aldrich shrugged. “It was convenient.”
Ryne weighed his options. He could easily slip into the shed in his wolf form and attack the man, who he now knew was Aldrich. The problem was, he still wasn’t sure what he was dealing with. From what she’d said, Melody didn’t know what she’d stumbled into, unless she was lying; at this distance, he couldn’t tell for sure. Aldrich appeared to know the real story; he just needed the report to confirm his facts. And then there was the mysterious and wealthy Mr. Greyson. Ryne knew in his gut, that the supposed art collector had it all figured out. The question was, how to get to him?
A sound from inside drew his attention. Melody was groaning and clutching her stomach. His wolf leapt inside him, and before he realized what he was doing, he was rounding the corner and pushing open the door of the shed. The sound of his arrival drew the attention of the other two.
“Ryne!” Melody looked up, pain etched on her face.
“Mr. Taylor? How kind of you to stop by.” Damn, but Aldrich was fast. Ryne chastised himself as he saw the gun now pointed at his chest. In the brief second that he’d used to look at Melody, the other man had drawn the weapon. Shit! His wolf’s attachment to Melody was going to be his downfall, he just knew it.
Adopting his most annoyingly arrogant manner, Ryne leaned against the door frame and sneered. “Yeah. This looked like such a nice little place; I just had to see inside.” He kept a bland expression on his face as he tried to ignore the gun. All too well, he remembered the burning pain of the last bullet wound he’d sustained. At this close a range, the shot could be lethal and if he was even just seriously injured, he’d still be unable to help Melody. Best to not irritate Aldrich too much.
“That was an ineffectual attempt at humour, Mr. Taylor.”
“Yeah? Well, what did you expect? I’m a photographer, not a comedian.” He shrugged and looked casually around the room, slowly shifting closer to Melody under the guise of checking out the atmosphere of the shed. “You know this place could use some fixing up. A few of my pictures on the wall could go a long way towards improving the overall impression of this room.”
“Ah, yes. A photographer. Hmm… I wonder how an ordinary ‘photographer’ managed to follow me here; I was very careful.” Aldrich narrowed his eyes, seeming to consider this new turn of events.
Ryne watched nervously as the man ran his finger back and forth over the trigger of the gun, giving an imperceptible sigh of relief when the movement eventually stopped and the lawyer shrugged.
“At this point, how you found this place is irrelevant. Though I will figure it out eventually—can’t have any loose ends now, can we?” What might have been a smile flickered over the man’s face. “Your wolf picture has been a source of fascination for my client, Mr. Greyson. Would you care to speculate why?”
“Not really.” Ryne watched as Aldrich’s finger flexed on the trigger again. The man was not quite as calm as he would have others believe.
“Mr. Taylor—”
A sudden scream from Melody cut him off. Both men turned to stare as she crumpled to the ground, her face twisted as if she were in agony. The air around her shimmered like waves of heat rising from hot pavement. Her form wavered in and out of focus and for a brief moment a wolf appeared in her place before shifting out of focus and returning to that of a young woman.
“Melody!” Heedless of the gun wielding man, Ryne rushed across the room and gathered her shivering body in his arms. Beads of sweat trickled down her face as she panted, barely conscious, while spasms wracked her body. Instinctively, she curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her middle. He could only imagine the pain she was experiencing as her ill-prepared body tried to readjust to its changing form.
“What… ?” Aldrich stared for a moment before seeming to gather his senses about him. “Well, well, well… Now, this does make things interesting doesn’t it? Hmm… ” He rubbed his chin. “Might I speculate, Mr. Taylor, that the issue at hand is not so much photographing wolves as it is… werewolves?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Ryne smoothed his hand over Melody’s trembling form. “There’s no such thing as werewolves.”
“Mr. Taylor, I am neither blind, stupid, nor subject to hallucinations. As a matter of fact, something of this sort was actually one of my theories when considering Mr. Greyson’s avid interest in wolves, but I passed it off as too fantastical for serious consideration. I now see that I need to revise my thinking.”
Ryne kept his face bland, ensuring he did nothing to confirm the man’s suspicions. He slowly eased Melody to the floor. If Aldrich was busy speculating, then maybe he could…
“Ah, ah, ah! I know how your mind is working, Mr. Taylor. Lunging for this gun would be a serious mistake, especially since we have so much to discuss.” The man leaned back against the old potting table. “Now, let me see if I can figure this out. You took a picture of a werewolf and Mr. Greyson somehow realized this. Did you know your subject wasn’t what it appeared to be?”
The Keeping Page 36
