The Keeping

by Nicky Charles

  “So control it!”

  “I’ve been trying, but you have me so twisted into knots that it hasn’t been easy.”

  “I do?” She stilled her struggles and studied him.

  He gave a half smile.

  Mel pursed her lips as if considering the information, then shook her head. “No. You’re trying to distract me from the main point which is you invaded my room while I was sleeping and… and… touched me!”

  Ryne zoomed in and planted a kiss on her lips. “You liked it. You had an orgasm. Don’t deny it.”

  “Well, yes. But—”

  He silenced her with a long, slow kiss. When he finally moved back, he whispered against her ear. “When we get out of here, I promise to give you a lot more orgasms.”

  Mel shivered at the wickedly erotic images that his words brought to mind. “But back in Stump River you said—”

  “Shh… ” He laid his finger over her lips. “I said lots of stupid stuff, trying to get you to go away so you wouldn’t get caught up in the Keeping.”

  The statement quickly sobered her mood as she recalled parts of his earlier lecture. She shifted away from him. “Is it really that serious? You have to kill people if they find out your secret?” He nodded. “So… what about me? I know. Are you going to kill me?”

  “Well, we do let a select few know of our existence, if it benefits the whole pack. And we screen those people very carefully.”

  She gulped. “Do I qualify?”

  “In normal circumstances, probably not. But given the fact that you’re transforming into one of us—”

  Mel started to protest that there was absolutely no way she was becoming a werewolf, but then stopped. If he believed she was transforming, then that meant she was safe. Okay, she’d deny it in her head, but outwardly… She pasted a smile on her face. “So I’m immune to the law.”

  “Unless you refuse to accept your transformation and start telling everyone or go rogue, letting others see you changing, things like that.”

  “Nope. Not me. I promise to keep mum.” She put her hand up as if making an oath and then mimed zipping her lip. After all, even if she told people, who would believe her? “So what happens again, if Aldrich and Greyson tell other people?”

  “If it appears the secret has been spread to others, the pack that has been discovered enters into something akin to a suicide pact.”

  Mel shuddered as the import of what was going on finally sunk in. “So basically, I’ve endangered your whole family by interviewing you?”

  Ryne stood up and began to pace again. “I started it by taking that photo of Kane in his wolf form and then not guarding the picture closely enough. When Greyson bought it, he must have examined it closely and discovered certain anomalies between Kane’s wolf form and that of a real wolf.”

  “But Greyson must have suspected that werewolves existed ahead of time. Most people don’t look at an unusual picture of a wolf and say ‘Hey, there’s something different about this one. It must be a werewolf.’ Normal people don’t think that way.”

  “Well apparently Greyson does because that’s the only reason I can think of for him to be searching for me. My pictures are good, but not that good. Not good enough to spend thousands of dollars on finding me just to interview me.”

  Mel stared at the floor, thinking for a moment before speaking. “Aldrich was really insistent that Greyson wanted to know where you took your pictures.” She looked up at Ryne. “He must want to find more werewolves!”

  Ryne nodded grimly. “That’s what I’m thinking, too. And if we can’t stop him, my brother and his whole pack will self-destruct rather than let Greyson find them.”

  Chapter 37

  Kane drummed his fingers on his desk, checked his watch, then stared at the phone, willing it to ring. Why hadn’t Ryne called yet? Surely, if he’d taken care of the leak, it would be over and done with by now. A burning knot of fear settled in his gut. Something was wrong, he knew it. Had Ryne been unable to find the girl? Or had she already told others of her discovery? Possibly she’d arranged for Ryne to be captured? Kane sensed Ryne had an affection for the girl, even if he was unwilling to admit it. But did the girl return those feelings or was she merely playing him for a dupe? Had she lured him into a trap where he was, even now, fighting to escape and warn the others of impending doom?

  His expression became stony as he firmed his resolve. He was Alpha. It was his job to ensure the safety of his pack; waiting would only heighten the danger. Picking up the phone, he punched in the needed numbers and waited impatiently for his Beta to answer.

  “John? Ryne missed his check-in. We’re not waiting any longer. Contact the group leaders and have them gather those assigned to them … No … No exceptions. I want everyone on the dispersal lists packed and out of here within the hour … Yeah … We’ll hold on as long as possible back here. I won’t make the final decision lightly … I’ll break the news to Elise and make sure she’s in front of the house waiting for the van … Yeah, good luck to you, too.”

  He hung up the phone and walked wearily to the door. His hand rested on the knob as he paused, contemplating what he’d say to his mate. She didn’t want to leave, but there was no way he was endangering her life and that of his unborn child by letting her stay, despite her pleas. But how do you begin to convince someone you love to leave you behind to face almost certain death? And how did you bid that person farewell, when you knew it would be forever?

  For a moment he gave his emotions free rein. Surprisingly enough, it was anger that came to the fore. Anger at Melody Greene for her snooping; for searching out Ryne and asking questions. Anger at Ryne for not dealing with her swiftly and ruthlessly. He was angry that he’d never see his unborn child. And that he’d never hold Elise again or feel the incredible oneness that occurred when he slid his body into hers and they gently rocked together…

  His breathing hitched as he imagined the loss of that deep connection. It was like a knife, cutting into his very soul. He wondered how his death would affect her. Would she know the moment he died? Feel an aching emptiness in her heart? If only there was a way to spare her that pain, he would take it; but as his life force seeped away, would he be strong enough to maintain a shield between their minds? He hoped so…

  With a heavy heart, he exited the office and went in search of Elise.

  *****

  Greyson eased himself into his favourite chair and sighed. He seldom allowed himself the luxury of feeling tired, but his concern over Cassandra was slowly wearing away at him. The girl was beginning to ask questions and he wasn’t sure how he would answer them. For so long he’d shielded her from the truth; once she learned of it, would she accept it? Perhaps he should have told her years ago, but the danger had been too real; she’d been too young to be trusted not to tell someone.

  Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a key and unlocked the drawer in the table to his right. He eased it open and lifted out an envelope and a picture from within. The envelope was his Last Will and Testament and left everything to Cassandra. He’d written it himself using sufficient legal mumbo jumbo to make it legal and unbreakable. Only a few people knew this copy existed. Another sealed version was at Aldrich’s office, but even the lawyer didn’t know it’s true contents. Greyson had never told the lawyer about the girl, and if he had his way, her existence was going to be kept a secret as long as possible. His life and business associates would not be allowed to taint her as long as he was alive. He put the will back in the drawer and focused on the picture. His gnarled fingers trembled slightly as he traced the features of the woman in the photograph.

  “Ah Luisa, you’d be proud of the girl. She looks just like you and has your fighting spirit, too.” He cleared his throat as emotion overcame him. “I wish you were here to see her, to guide her. You left her in my care and I’ve done my best, but now… I’m not sure what to do anymore.”

  He stared intently at the picture as memories unfolded…

  *****r />
  Spain. Eighteen years ago…

  He usually didn’t walk home, preferring the luxury of his limousine, but he’d wanted time by himself to dwell on his most recent success. Taking over the small Spanish import-export business gave him another toe-hold in the country. It was part of his master plan to get his hands on the parent company—a large conglomerate with connections in several European nations. If done carefully enough, with little fanfare, no one would realize that he had a controlling interest in the voting stock until it was too late to stop him.

  The streets were mostly deserted which wasn’t surprising given the late hour. His driver was tailing him, a respectful two blocks away, ready to pick him up when he tired of his solitary stroll. Noise drifted out of small establishments as people laughed and sang, enjoying friendship and frivolity. He firmed his jaw. What a waste of time. So what if it’s New Year’s Eve? Transactions needed to be done, fortunes built; commerce waited for no one. A small voice insisted that commerce also made a cold friend, but Greyson pushed the thought aside. If he needed companionship, he could find it. The flash of diamonds and a bottle of champagne would have women hanging off of him, should he so desire.

  Shoving his hands in his pocket, he hunched his shoulder against the cool wind and walked on. A scuffling sound from an alley caught his attention and he turned to stare into the murky depths. Nothing moved and he turned to go when a soft cry sounded. He wasn’t usually one to get involved, so he had no idea what inspired him to walk down the alleyway.

  His steps echoed off the pavement; the stench of garbage causing him to curl his lip. He searched the shadows and then he saw it. A face, pale and battered, blood smeared across the cheek, one eye swollen shut, the other filled with fear. It was a young girl and she shrank back as he approached.

  Greyson stared around, looking for signs of her attackers, suspicious that this could be a set up. What better way to distract a wealthy victim, than to present him with a helpless female and then attack when he was otherwise occupied. However, there were no signs of movement, no sounds except the girl’s laboured breathing.

  He crouched beside her, murmuring reassurances in Spanish while assessing the damage. Her arm hung limply at her side and her leg was twisted grotesquely, both obviously broken. Greyson considered himself a hard man, the suffering of others didn’t bother him, but when he observed the girl protectively clutch her good arm around the swelling at her waist, even he was moved. What kind of bastard would beat up a pregnant woman?

  “Who did this to you?” His voice was harsher than he intended and she cringed. With effort, he forced himself to speak in a gentler tone. “Who hurt you? I’ll call the police and ensure the villains are dealt with.”

  Panic flared in her eyes. “No! No police! Please, tell no one. Just help me up.” She struggled to move and he firmly held her in place.

  “Don’t be ridiculous girl. Your leg’s broken. You can’t move.”

  She raised her chin. “Yes, I can. I got myself this far—”

  “Then you’re a fool. You’ve probably damaged your leg irreparably and will limp when it heals.”

  “I might be a fool, but I’m also a survivor. I will live for the sake of this little one.” She rubbed her stomach and glared at him defiantly.

  Greyson suppressed the flicker of pride that arose within in him. Damn, but she was a fighter. He liked that. “Fine. You want to live for the child. Well then, give it a chance. Let me help you.” Holding out his hand, he kept his gaze steady as he stared into her liquid brown eyes. The girl hesitated and then placed her hand in his. As his fingers closed around her fine bones, he knew he was lost. Somehow, in a matter of minutes, the girl had done what others had spent years trying to do. She’d slipped past his protective shield and made him remember that he did have a heart.

  Things happened quickly after that. He called for his car to be brought around and they drove to his house. She refused a hospital and barely agreed to have a private physician look at her. Amazingly enough, the doctor stated she was bruised, but otherwise fine. Greyson declared the man a fool, whipping back the covers—much to the girl’s embarrassment—and demanding that he look at her broken leg. The doctor raised his eyebrows and Greyson managed to muffle a cry of surprise when he realized that the broken leg was no longer broken.

  For probably the first and only time in his life, he’d gaped like a fish, only the silent plea in the girl’s eyes keeping him from commenting on the startling phenomenon. The leg had been broken, he knew it. And her arm was fine, too! As he stared at her face, he noted that even the cuts and bruises seemed less severe, some barely noticeably. Once the physician had left, he demanded an explanation. Shouts, tears, even threats ensued before she finally crumpled under the force of his personality and explained.

  At first he refused to believe her story, but the more she spoke, the more it made sense. Her name was Luisa and she was a Lycan or shape-shifter. She’d been promised to her pack’s Beta, but fell in love with another. When it was discovered that she was with child, her lover had been killed and she was severely beaten for her transgression. That night she ran away, knowing her child would be taken from her and that her own future would be nothing, but misery.

  “I shouldn’t be telling you this. But,” she explained. “They would kill me anyway, in the end. You don’t betray the ruling family as I did, and live long afterwards.” She moved to get out of bed. “Thank you for giving me a place to rest. Unfortunately, my presence endangers you and your household. I’d better leave before they track me here.”

  Greyson scoffed. “You’ll stay in bed until I decide you’re well enough to get up. And I have half a dozen armed bodyguards, so your werewolf friends don’t worry me.”

  “You should be worried. Two of Pablo’s enforcers could take out all your bodyguards in seconds. The threat they represent is not to be dismissed.”

  He could tell her fear was real. Well, his business was done anyway. “Fine. Then we’ll leave as soon as my private jet is ready.”

  “Leave? For where?”

  “America, of course.”

  “There’s no ‘of course’ about it! I barely know you. I’m not travelling halfway around the world with a man I just met.” She folded her arms and glared at him.

  “And what’s the alternative? By you own admission, it isn’t safe for you here. How far will you have to run before you’re out of the reach of this Pablo you so fear?”

  Luisa was silent for a moment before reluctantly acquiescing. A few hours later, they were in the Greyson Inc. jet, heading to the States and leaving the danger behind, or so he’d thought.

  The next year had been the happiest he’d ever known. Luisa was his constant companion, and the child she eventually bore was like his own. Baby Cassandra—named after his mother—was his delight and life couldn’t have been better. If at times, Luisa seemed a bit distant, he put it down to being tired. A newborn was a great deal of work, after all.

  Cassandra was four months old when Luisa came to him with her plan. She wanted to go back to Spain to see her family. Werewolves, she explained, were social creatures. While she loved him, she also missed her family and wanted them to know about the baby. He doubted the safety of this course of action and they argued bitterly before he finally gave in, though not without taking every possible precaution.

  They would stay in Portugal near the border and she would cross over, quickly visit her parents and then return. It would be a quick, secretive meeting. Greyson wanted to go with her, but she insisted he stay behind to watch Cassie. He argued for her to take bodyguards, but she would only agree to one person, following at a distance, so as to not draw attention to herself…

  *****

  “I never should have let you go,” he whispered to the smiling woman in the photo. “I knew something would happen. How those murderous bastards ever got wind of your presence, I’ll never know.” Greyson swallowed hard and pushed aside the memory of finding her broken body dumped in
a ditch alongside that of the lone bodyguard. They’d both been mauled to death.

  He’d wanted revenge, but fear for Cassandra had him fleeing the area instead. If they ever found the baby…

  A light tap on the door had him hurriedly putting the picture away and straightening in his chair. “Come!”

  Franklin, his butler, entered the room. The man was one of the few persons Greyson trusted implicitly. They’d been together for years. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir. Cook is wondering how many for dinner.”

  “Just myself, Franklin. She can send a light meal up to Cassandra’s room, but she might not be awake enough to eat it.”

  “Very well, sir. And how is Miss Cassandra this month?” Franklin had been with him even before Luisa and Cassandra entered his life. He knew the whole sordid tale.

  “The medication is working. No sign of a change yet.”

  A smile spread across the butler’s usually passive face. “I’m glad to hear it, sir. I’m not sure what we’d do if she ever did transform.” The man hesitated and then spoke again. “Have you had any news about finding a pack here in the States?”

  “I’m on the trail of one. It looks promising.”

  Franklin fidgeted nervously for a moment. “Begging your pardon, sir. But how do you know an American pack would be willing to accept her?”

  Greyson tried to hide his concern by clearing his throat. “I don’t. That’s why I’ve sent someone else in ahead of time. To test the waters, so to speak and see if they’re receptive or not.”

  The butler nodded. “That would be Ms. Greene.”

  “Correct. Their reception of her will let me know if it’s safe to have Cassie approach or not.”

  “But what of Ms. Greene?”

  “If she safely makes contact, all the better for her. If she doesn’t, well… collateral damage does occur. It’s regrettable, but the woman isn’t my primary concern. Cassandra is.”