by Hettie Ivers
“And you went to see her tonight? Because she had a nightmare?”
“Yep.”
I didn’t elaborate. Because Bethy had rolled onto her stomach, crossing her legs at the ankles—putting her pert, beautiful hiney on display.
She frowned and asked, “But where are her parents? Shouldn’t they be the ones to comfort her after she’s had a nightmare?” Her hand flew up to her mouth. “Oh, no, is she an orphan?”
She was completely oblivious to the torment she was putting me through. My dick twitched and leaked precum when I failed to suppress fantasies of climbing on top of her and sliding between her plump cheeks to impale her pussy from behind—maybe with her thighs tied together just above the knees so she’d be crazy tight.
I shook myself internally. Just answer the question.
What was the question?
I swallowed. “No. Not an orphan. She has a mom and a … stepdad … of sorts.”
“You don’t like the stepdad?”
“Nah, I like Sloane’s stepdad just fine.” Not a complete lie. I liked the fact that Alcaeus was good at doing the shit that I didn’t want to do when it came to running a pack. I liked that he made Avery happy, and that he would lay down his life to protect her and Sloane. And I liked the leverage he afforded me with his former pack that my sister now headed.
“His name’s Alcaeus. I’ve known him for years. He’s a great guy.” I forced an agreeable expression. “He works for me, actually. He’s my second in command.” Technically speaking. “Sloane’s mom, Avery, is a good friend of mine. You’ll love her. Avery is also a higher-ranking member of my pack.”
Bethany nodded absently, worrying her lip as she rocked her crossed ankles up and down, highlighting her toned hamstring and glute muscles in the process each time her legs curled back. I was going to come all over myself like a thirteen-year-old boy before this conversation was through.
“I look forward to meeting them. But why don’t Sloane’s parents take care of her when she has nightmares, Raul? Why do they call you?”
“It’s complicated,” I told her truthfully, then paused to consider my next words carefully. Where to start?
Mind off pussy. Mind off pussy.
“So, werelocks have the ability to enter a human’s mind and um … well, read their thoughts. More or less.” Damn, that could’ve been delivered better.
Way better, I realized, when Bethany’s eyes widened in alarm and she sputtered, “Oh, my God. Please tell me you’re not serious. Are you in my head right now? For how long?” She sat up and snatched a sheet, then proceeded to wrap it around her, covering her nakedness from me. “Shit, I remember Mike saying something about hearing Gregg’s thoughts back at my apartment. I should’ve thought to question it sooner, but I just forgot with all the other information the guys were sharing—”
“Bethy, calm down. I am not in your head.” Calm down and please take the sheet back off. “I have never even once been inside your head. I promise.” Not for lack of trying. I held three fingers up. “Scout’s honor.”
Her throat bobbed. “Really? What about Mike? Or Tiago? Or—”
“None of my men have ever been inside your head either.”
“Are you sure? Why not?”
Ah, fuck me. I was headed straight to hell already, so …
“Because I respect your feelings and your right to privacy too much.”
Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “You mean that?”
I nodded. I was the lowest form of human being.
“Thank you.” She crawled over to me, dropping the sheet in the process, and kissed me sweetly on the mouth.
I’d already lost my erection though. Gently, I pressed against her shoulder, holding her back, then nudging her away from me. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I got up from the bed and conjured pants onto myself.
And I began pacing.
“Raul? Is something wrong?”
“No. I just don’t want us to lose focus. We haven’t finished talking about Sloane. Or mind-reading.” I couldn’t even look at her as I continued. “As I was saying, werelocks can read human minds and the minds of most common werewolves. To that end, werelocks can compel humans and werewolves to basically do their bidding as well. And they can sometimes alter memories and sway thoughts.”
Geez, it sounded so insidious and dirty when I explained it out loud to Bethany like that. The gasp that came from the bed reinforced it.
“That’s horrible!”
I nodded. “Mm-hmm.” Get to the important points. Rip it off like a Band-Aid.
“Within a pack, werelocks will often access other werelocks’ minds from time to time as a means of communication. The Alpha and higher-ranking werelocks within a pack typically have access to all lower-ranking werelocks’ minds. But there are exceptions. For example, no one has access to Sloane’s mind. However, Sloane has the ability to pull me into her mind when she needs me.” I stopped pacing and looked over to gauge Bethy’s reaction.
She looked completely spellbound. And shell-shocked.
“But she only does it when she’s having nightmares. So I’m not sure she’s entirely conscious of what she’s doing. And she’s only ever pulled me inside her mind like that. She’s never done it with anyone else.”
“Not even her mom?”
I shook my head.
“Why you?”
“Dunno. Sloane and I have just always had a really strong connection I guess.” Not a complete lie. There was no way I was going into the whole Maribel reincarnation with Bethany. “And I like her.” I shrugged. “She’s a great kid. Her behavior can be pretty off sometimes, so people have a hard time understanding and accepting her. But she’s amazing. Really funny, too.” I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “You’ll see when you meet her.”
“How old is she again?”
“Nine years and eight months.”
A beatific grin broke out on Bethany’s face. She looked like an angel with her halo of tangled, freshly fucked golden hair sticking out in all directions. Yet the expression on her face unsettled me. She was regarding me like I was some kind of a hero for my relationship with Sloane. I wasn’t.
I felt my own smile fall away.
“That is so incredibly beautiful, Raul,” she gushed.
I scrubbed a hand over my mouth. “Look, you should know, the werewolf world centers around a lot of belief in superstitions and prophecies, which often results in a good deal of paranoia. Pack life means everything to wolves. It’s hard to fathom at first for those of us who were born human, but there’s an immediate, instinctive pull to belong to a pack when you first become a werewolf.”
“You felt like that? When you … became one?”
“Yeah. I did.”
“When—how did—?”
“That’s a conversation for another time.” Hopefully not anytime soon. “In order for you to understand the situation with Sloane, you need to understand that in our society, rogue werewolves are considered an abomination of nature. Separation from pack life makes werewolves unstable, and ultimately, demented and violent. The threat of exposure their existence creates puts all other werewolves in danger.” Here goes. “So in our world, the overarching rule of every pack is that all rogue werewolves must be exterminated.”
She let out a gasp. The expression of horror that marred her face was every bit as bad as I’d suspected her reaction would be.
“To protect the greater good, of course,” I appended.
Her pretty blue eyes shot fiery condemnation at me. “That is the most bigoted, intolerant, tyrannical—”
“You’re absolutely right.” I held my hand up. “I completely agree.”
Not a complete lie. Not a complete truth either. But hers was exactly the reaction I’d been angling for to set up where I was taking this conversation next. And besides, the fastest way to appease any woman was to tell her she was one hundred percent correct, no matter what the argument was. It worked, because Bethany closed her mouth and
allowed me to continue.
“So there’s this centuries-old prophecy about a powerful Rogue-with-a-capital-R werewolf coming into existence who will usher forth the birth of a new breed of werewolf species: An aberrant rogue species completely unbeholden to the pack mentality and way of life to which all werewolves presently adhere. That prophesied werewolf—werelock, rather—is Sloane.”
I didn’t get to finger her ass again or eat her out before we landed. We ended up talking for most of the remainder of the flight, until Bethy’s eyelids were blinking and drooping so much that I knew I had to stop and allow her to rest.
Her face had been a study in wonder and rapt concentration as I’d attempted to educate her on the werewolf world without completely overwhelming her. Or revealing information I didn’t want to share just yet.
She’d tried to bring up Miles once, asking again how much my sister knew about my supernatural life, and again, I’d simply put her off—this time intentionally making her think that my estrangement from my sister was a sore topic for me that I couldn’t bear to discuss.
In truth, it was a sore subject that I preferred to avoid. But with Bethany, revealing that her childhood friend Miles was, in fact, a werelock herself, and currently Alpha of one of the oldest, largest, most powerful werewolf packs on the planet—which also happened to be my Salvatella pack’s longtime enemy and rival—was a slippery road leading to any number of dangerous cliffsides.
25
Bethany
I’d fallen asleep snuggled in bed with Raul aboard his plane. But I awoke in a strange new bed in a very nice but simply decorated room. Light was streaming in through the open shutters decorating the windows, and I could see glimpses of trees and greenery through the wide wooden slats.
I sat up and looked around me. Raul was nowhere in sight, and I felt a pang of disappointment at his absence—disappointment that swiftly morphed into annoyance as a beautiful woman with long ebony hair strolled through the open doorway of the bedroom.
Who the hell kidnapped someone—professing to have been in agony with want for them for the past decade and vowing to never stay away from them again—only to repeatedly duck out on them and leave them with strangers? It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he’d kidnapped me, and already Raul had left me twice!
Damn. Was it normal to feel insulted when your werewolf abductor shirked on his obligation to be connected “for all eternity” to you?
“Morning,” the woman greeted me, an inscrutably bright, Cheshire-like grin overtaking her exquisite, makeup-free face. “I’m Avery. Also known as Sloane’s mom. How do you take your coffee?”
My jaw fell open a little. I quickly closed it when I realized I probably had morning breath and that she’d be able to smell it from across the room with her canine senses.
This was Avery: Sloane the Rogue’s mom that Raul spoke of with such great esteem and affection. The way he’d described her to me last night made it clear he viewed her as a close friend and that he also held her in extremely high regard as a mother for her unwavering dedication to Sloane. But he’d neglected to mention she was also drop-dead gorgeous. And intimidating as hell.
She had wide-set eyes and high cheekbones, and her skin was a beautiful shade of russet brown with olive undertones. She appeared to be a perfectly gorgeous mix of multiple races, most immediately recognizable of which was African. She was wearing no-nonsense black shorts and a simple tank top that showcased her lean, athletic build. She looked like she’d probably been up for five hours already and had just returned from an important, dangerous Lara Croft-esque mission. Everything about her screamed Alpha female. Even if she hadn’t been a werewolf, I was positive she could’ve kicked my ass in seconds flat. Instantly, I regretted skipping out on so many sessions at the gym in recent months.
Her eyes on me were friendly, but their depths guarded like Fort Knox. And one of her finely shaped brows had just arched.
Oh. She’d asked me a question. About coffee.
“Ah-mm … cream and sugar?”
“Are you asking or telling me?” She leaned her hip against the bedpost, her brown doe eyes unblinking. “Because that sounded like a question. You want a reputation for being firm and decisive if anyone’s going to take you seriously around here. And as the tired saying goes, you only get one shot at making a first impression.” She cupped her hand to the side of her mouth and whisper-shouted, “Particularly when ninety-three percent of the guys here are sexist pigs.”
I rubbed my eyes, wondering for a moment if I was still asleep. “I’m sorry, I’m just waking up and I don’t—”
“Don’t apologize. That’s even worse. You’re digging a hole now. You’re liable to tumble down the well of rationalization next if you aren’t careful.”
What on earth? “I really don’t understa—”
“You’re our Alpha’s mate. You need to be taken seriously around here.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Believe me, woman to woman, I wish I could give you more time with this whole adjustment, but there’s simply no time. You feel me, Bethy? I can call you Bethy, can’t I.” She pointed her finger at me. “See what I did there? I just told you. I didn’t ask. Feel the difference? Good. Because I’m calling you Bethy.”
Holy baby Jesus, she was intense. I nodded. “I take cream and sugar. Please.” I could still say please, couldn’t I?
“You got it. There’s a bathroom down the hallway. Raul left a little overnight bag with some of your stuff he thought you’d need at the foot of the bed. See you downstairs.”
“You can’t imagine how stoked I am to finally meet you.” Avery’s face was animated as she sat across from me at her breakfast table, enjoying a huge plate of eggs and bacon and waffles. She’d told me that her mate had built this house himself. The two of them lived here with Sloane, while Raul resided at the main Salvatella mansion a short distance away.
“Thank you,” I said once I’d finished chewing the bite of bagel in my mouth. “It’s so nice to meet you, too. Raul told me what good friends you two are. How long have you known each other?”
“Seven months.”
“Oh.”
“When I first met Raul, I couldn’t figure him out, you know?”
I nodded, not really sure what she meant, though.
“I couldn’t for the life of me get a clear sexual orientation read on him,” she continued, prompting me to nearly choke on the next bite I’d taken. “There were moments when I was certain he was gay, but then it didn’t quite fit. Now it makes perfect sense that all this time he was simply mated and resisting his mating bond to you.” She brought a forkful of eggs and waffle to her mouth.
I tried to tamp down the absurd happiness that bloomed in my chest at Avery thinking Raul was gay. I cleared my throat. “Yeah … Raul said something similar to me about that. If you don’t mind me asking, what does that mean—he resisted his mating bond to me?”
When she’d finished chewing, she said, “It means he was dumb enough to try and do the impossible—go against the mating bond pull and say F you to the hand of fate, spirit ancestor bullshit, and all that jazz. Ballsy move. But ultimately, stupid.” She took a sip of coffee. “I’m still in shock he made it ten years. That’s gotta be some kind of mating bond avoidance record. That shit’s painful.”
“How painful?”
“Well, put it this way, I only lasted a few days.” Her face screwed up, and she looked at the ceiling. “No, wait a minute … not even that long, now that I think of it.”
Why had Raul resisted his mating bond to me? He’d claimed on the plane that he’d done it for my own good. For my safety. But what did that really mean? What was so bad about me being with him that he had willingly stood by and allowed me to get engaged to Gregg?
As if reading the direction of my thoughts, Avery offered, “Gabe, the last Alpha, would’ve killed you.” She brandished her fork at me. “Straight up. Probably would’ve tortured and dismembered you a few times first, too. Just for k
icks. Maybe done some kind of ritualistic sacrifice and then made a satchel and some moccasins out of your skin. The guy was a psycho creep.”
She leaned forward and whispered, “Between you and me, I think insanity runs deep through the Salvatella bloodlines.” She patted me on the wrist with her free hand. “I’ll make up a cheat sheet for you of all the ones I’ve got my eye on as nuckin’ futs around here.”
Wow. Process the satchel comment later, Bethany. “So you knew the last Alpha? Gabe?”
“Unfortunately. Only briefly. Even that was far too long for me. He tried to kill me. Twice. Raul saved me the first time. The second time didn’t go as well.” Her color darkened with what looked like embarrassment. “I totally ate it and croaked the second time.”
“Um … I’m sorry, but—”
“Ah-ah-ah.” She clucked her tongue at me. “Lose the ‘sorry,’ Madam Alpha.”
“Got it, but did you just say Gabe was successful in killing you the second time he tried?”
“Yeah. It was partially my fault, though. I should’ve seen it coming. Gabie baited me. Wasn’t one of my better moments.”
Did I want to ask? I settled on nodding and eating my bagel. I’d ask Raul later. “Raul told me you weren’t born a werewolf—erm—werelock. You are a werelock, right? I can’t really tell the difference yet. Is that racist?” I wanted to facepalm. “I mean in the werewolf world sense?”
Her brown eyes glittered with amusement. “Extremely. Yes, I’m a werelock. And no, wasn’t born one. I was bitten by a rogue and changed ten years ago.”
I nodded and reached for my coffee. Raul had told me as much. He’d told me Avery had also been raped and impregnated by the same rogue werewolf who’d bitten her—Sloane’s biological father.
“So, look, I’m going to level with you, Bethy. Your getting claimed by Raul as his mate right now is really bad timing for us as a pack.”
