by Moira Rogers
Her heart pounded, but it wasn’t fear that bridged the space between them. He fought to keep his own body from reacting. “I’m fine.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.” The words held a slight tremor, and he could feel the hunger of her wolf and her own rejection of it. “I should check on the others.”
He wanted to stop her. He wanted to chase her again, like he had earlier.
So he stepped back, far enough that he could no longer sense her racing heart or the need that mirrored his own. “We can talk about this threat later.”
“Of course.” Her gaze roamed his face, then slipped lower, quick and furtive, as if she couldn’t quite stop herself. The darkness couldn’t hide the blush that rose in her cheeks as she turned abruptly. “Whatever you think is best. I’ll—I’ll be in the cave.”
He had to turn to keep from following her. His frustration wanted to evidence itself in short, barked orders, but he was alone in the clearing.
Chapter Four
Her skin felt too tight, and inside-out too. Her nerves might as well be on the outside, laid bare to every brush of fabric, every teasing caress of wind. Too much sensation and not nearly enough. Never enough, because it was fabric and air, not rough hands and a hot mouth.
She was in danger. Serious, mortal danger, pursued by a madman who had leveled magic at her, and the twisting in her guts was the unbearable ache of need, not the sharp stab of fear.
On days like this, with her body beyond her control and held hostage to instincts she barely understood, Joan hated being a werewolf.
The cave was abuzz with nervous chatter and movement, the girls repacking their belongings and the men shifting bedrolls and blankets. They’d have to move, of course, though where Seamus intended to lead them next was only of passing interest.
Joan would not be with them.
If that terrifying moment in the clearing had given her anything, it was the peace of absolute trust. Her instincts might have reacted with embarrassing and appalling arousal to the show of brutal strength, but it didn’t detract from the truth of the matter—Seamus would protect her people. He would keep them safe. She believed it with everything inside her, wolf and human alike.
It made leaving easier. Not easy—she couldn’t walk lightly into the hands of the enemy, knowing what likely awaited her in Boston. She’d be a suitable distraction, though, and she was the only one they truly wanted. Once enough time had passed to know her people were free, she’d escape her prison or die trying.
There was an unexpected serenity in that knowledge. Enough to make it easy to move amongst the girls and give comfort where comfort was needed. Few needed it. Edwin’s castoffs all had one thing in common—an appreciation for rakish men. There were certainly plenty of those to be found among Seamus’s associates.
She found Simone shoving clothes into a bag, surprisingly unappreciative of those rakish men. “The tall one is an ass,” she muttered. “I asked him what happened, and he tripped all over himself to reassure me that you were fine, that we’re all fine. He didn’t bother to actually answer my question. Like I need to be protected from the truth.”
The tall one had to be Victor, who’d shown no particular warmth to Joan herself. “I don’t think he has much faith in the sense of women.”
“I have faith in the size of the hole he’ll have in his head if he tries to ‘there there, little lady’ me again.”
Simone was furious, angrier than Joan had ever seen her before, and it offered another whisper of peace. Simone wouldn’t roll over for Seamus’s men just because they were stronger. She’d fight if she had to. The girls would still have a protector.
Of course, that didn’t help Simone in the short term. “Ignore him. The other men seem more amiable. Seamus is almost reasonable, for an alpha.”
That melted some of Simone’s ire. “He likes you.”
Denial would be foolish at this juncture. “I know. Power calls to power. It always does.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, that’s almost certainly it. Except that it isn’t at all, and you know it.”
After everything that had happened, Joan should have grown past blushing. Yet warmth filled her cheeks as she knelt to help Simone store the last of her belongings. “This is neither the time nor place for romance. Keeping us safe is my only concern.”
“The heart will not be contained.” Simone delivered the flowery words in a matter-of-fact tone as she fastened the heavy bag and lifted it.
“Mine will be.” Joan looked up at her closest friend and tried to find words that wouldn’t rouse suspicion. “You need to know, Simone. I’m in more danger than most. They can’t let me get away with the things I’ve done. I need you to promise me that if anything happens—”
Simone cut her off. “You’re not thinking of doing anything foolish, are you, Joanie?”
Answering directly would reveal the lie, but Joan had grown up in the polite society of evasive small talk. “You said yourself that Seamus is interested. Do you honestly think an alpha like him would let me?”
“I think he doesn’t know you like I do.”
Only one distraction left. “I kissed him.”
Simone froze. “You did not.”
“On the beach.” The heat of his fingers still felt branded on the back of her neck, as if that spot held the secrets of everything she needed from him. “It—it was very pleasant. Unexpectedly so, in fact.”
Her friend hesitated. “I’m…not entirely sure what that means. That you want to do it again?”
Admitting the truth didn’t matter now. “Desperately. I know it’s not the place or the time, but when he kissed me, I didn’t care. I always thought I was more sensible than that.”
Simone simply blinked at Joan. “Well.”
It wasn’t quite the reaction Joan had expected. “Well?”
She shrugged. “You like him too. What are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing. I’m going to finish packing our things, and we’re going to get in the cars and drive. One of the men has an acquaintance who might be able to hide us for a time using magic. I’ll worry about kissing and feelings when we’re safe.”
“That’s a plan, I guess.” But Simone had already been distracted by Victor’s entrance. “Hey! I want to talk to you.”
Joan started to turn, but caught enough bare skin out of the corner of her eye to whip back around. “Simone, anything you have to say can wait until he’s dressed.”
A thoroughly amused, thoroughly male chuckle echoed in the confining space. The impossible man was laughing at her, as if modesty and courtesy were childish trivialities. Annoyance stiffened her spine, and she pivoted again and let him feel the full thrust of her power along with her temper. “You may dislike me as you please, but you will show the ladies respect. And that includes wearing clothing.”
“It doesn’t bother me in the least.” Simone shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest.
Victor’s gaze traveled from Joan to Simone, where it lingered with something approaching amused affection. His dark hair fell over his forehead as he nodded and took a step back, a clear sign of retreat. Then he turned on his heel and strode away, and even Joan had to admit that naked expanse of his well-muscled back was distracting, if you favored large men carved from stone.
Simone watched him, and she seemed to have forgotten altogether that she meant to talk to him. “Did Seamus mention where we’re going?”
“I haven’t had a chance to ask.” Nor would Joan find out, because not knowing would be important later. What she didn’t know she wouldn’t be able to reveal, after all, and she wasn’t foolish enough to believe the Boston alpha couldn’t break her if he set his mind to it.
A chill claimed her at that thought, and a clawing claustrophobia with it. “Do you have the bags? I should check that everything’s arranged.”
“Sure. I’ll look in on Elise too.”
Elise would have a child soon, and Joan might never get to see her. She’d
never find out if the tentative flirtation between the two youngest wolves might blossom into love, or if Simone’s frustration with Victor might cover an interest the woman fought to hide.
Worst of all, there would be no goodbyes. But she could say the one thing that mattered, so she threw her arms around Simone and held her friend tight. “I wouldn’t have managed this without you. Not any of it.”
“We’re not there yet,” she answered grimly. “These men are so sure of themselves, but…I don’t know. We have a long way to go.”
They both did.
He’d known she was going to leave and that he’d have to follow.
Seamus stripped off the last of his clothes and called the change. It came easily, testament to the harsh emotions roiling inside him. He snarled and left the stopped caravan behind.
Victor would take care of everything. Seamus had spoken with him briefly, keeping his questions and instructions just vague enough to limit the man’s suspicion. They hadn’t been back on the road for long, and when the rest of them discovered he and Joan had gone, there would be no doubt what had happened.
He wanted to be furious that she would risk herself this way, but understanding tempered his anger. What wouldn’t he do to protect his men or those that belonged to him?
To protect her?
She was heading in the right direction, so he followed at a distance until she stopped in a glade by a small creek to rest and drink. He shifted back and spoke as he approached, his voice hoarse from strain. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t spank your ass.”
The small, exhausted-looking wolf lifted her head and snarled at him.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He sank down beside her. “Gray hair. You’re going to give me gray hair, and I’m far too young for it.”
She circled around him slowly, her paws rustling against the leaves. She stopped somewhere behind him, and power rose tired and sluggish. Her voice sounded every bit as rough as his own when she spoke, edged with sorrow and pain and magic. “You know I’ll run again. Edwin can’t let me make a fool of him like this. If we find one wizard, he’ll find three. It will never end.”
“So we find a way to fix it that doesn’t involve you taking a powder, especially by yourself.”
He felt the first brush of her skin against his bare back as she huddled closer, shivering in the cold night air. “Please, Seamus. Let me go. It may not be pretty, but they probably won’t kill me, and they’ll bore of me eventually. I can survive anything they do if I know you’re keeping my people safe.”
“Not just here to save you, Joan.” He leaned back, just enough to press his skin more fully to hers. “I’m saving myself too. You might survive what happens to you, but I wouldn’t.”
A small hand slid over his shoulder, and her forehead pressed against his neck. “You hardly know me. You can’t care so much.”
But he did, and so did she. Seamus covered her hand with his and laughed a little. “Are you going to argue with me now?”
“Are you going to force me to?”
“Depends, some. You still want to run off by yourself?”
“I never wanted to.” Her lips grazed the spot between his shoulder blades as she talked, each word a teasing kiss. “I know what the alphas in Boston are forgetting. Being dominant isn’t about getting what you want.”
“No, it isn’t.” It was about a hundred little things like comfort and family, as well as the bigger things—like protection. All the things he couldn’t think of with her lips on his skin. “Joan.”
Her lips pressed against him more firmly, no accidental kiss this time. “Tell me there’s another way, and I’ll take it. But I’m not going back to my people. Not until I know Edwin’s done looking.”
She was probably trying to scramble his brain so he’d agree with her, but he didn’t care. “I didn’t say anything about going back, did I?”
“Thank you.” Her fingers tightened around his hand, clinging to him. “I—I don’t have a plan that doesn’t involve getting caught. I was going to wait at the cave until they used their magic to find me. I think Edwin will come with them this time. He’d want to see me taken care of personally.”
It was as good as anything else. “We left some supplies there. Come on. We’ll dress and talk.”
The warmth of her body against his vanished, but he didn’t feel the corresponding swell of magic. After a few tense, silent moments she sighed. “I think I’m too tired to change again so quickly.”
He picked her up and carried her.
There were no women’s clothes at the cave, but Seamus managed to find a set of boys’ trousers and a small shirt. “Put these on while I start a fire.”
She accepted them in silence and slipped away toward the back of the cave. The fire pit was still warm, and it took him only minutes and a few fresh logs to stir it back to life. Outside, dawn was just beginning to break, but it would take hours for the sun’s warmth to penetrate the shadows of the cave.
Joan returned, wearing the odd-fitting clothing and dragging two heavy blankets. “They were folded in the back. I shook them out to make sure nothing had taken up residence.”
“Good idea. We’ll lay them out by the fire.”
Soon enough she’d created a little nest, with one blanket folded to provide padding from the cold stone floor. She wrapped one side of the other around her shoulders, then peered up at him with a look that dared him to comment on what she said next. “I saw some bottles too. I believe I finally understand the allure of applying liquor to a case of nerves.”
A dangerous thing for a teetotaler like her to be thinking. “You want to tie one on, I’m not going to stop you. But maybe we could talk first.”
Something like disappointment flickered across her face, then vanished. “Yes, I suppose that’s the responsible thing to do.”
Sympathy and guilt tugged at him. “I was also hoping to kiss you again, but I make it a point never to kiss drunk women.”
Her eyes widened, and he seemed to have startled her into a smile. “How disappointingly upstanding. And here I thought you were a total scoundrel.”
“Not quite, sweetheart.”
“It would be better if you were. I could resist a scoundrel.”
“No need to resist me.” He offered her his easiest smile. “Just say the word.”
For a heartbeat he thought she would, the longing in her eyes was that sharp. Instead color filled her cheeks and she looked away, suddenly shy. “We need to talk.”
“What would you like to talk about?”
“Our plan. We’ll have an advantage in that Edwin is unlikely to be willing to kill me outright. He needs to punish me in front of the others. To regain control.”
She was saying that Lancaster meant to break her. Seamus clenched his hands into fists as rage splintered through him, and he forced himself to take a deep breath and focus. “That leaves me, and he’ll likely want to dispose of me as soon as possible. Unless…”
“Unless?”
“Unless he figures it would hurt both of us more if he had me watch him…punish you.”
The words made her clutch more tightly at the blanket. “I think that’s a distinct possibility. Though if he concludes that I’ve developed any affection for you, it’s just as likely that he’ll try to take you apart piece by piece and force me to watch.”
“Either way, it buys us some time.”
“Time to fight?”
She relished the idea, and it sparked something primitive inside him. “That’s right. Time to fight.”
Joan turned her attention to the fire, her expression turning thoughtful. “I can fight…but that’s dangerous. What if the worst happens? Will your people help mine find a safe place to settle?”
He’d left strict instructions that Victor wasn’t to wait for his return before taking Joan’s people to safety. “Guy’s grandfather owns an island. We’ve been buying it up, bit by bit. Hell, we might own it all by this point. There’s nothing there,
but it’s small enough to ward and build a colony of sorts.”
Her eyes drifted shut. “Thank you, Seamus. I can’t—after all this time, I can’t tell you how much it means to know… To know—”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Hey.” Seamus rose and circled the fire to sink down beside her. “Hey, it’s all right. They’re going to be okay.”
“I know.” Her voice trembled, but the tone was one of relief, not distress. She leaned into him, curled close and wrapped an arm around his neck. “Adam tried, but he could never understand. He protected them because he wanted to, because he’s a good man under all his vices. He never understood that I didn’t have the same choice.”
“I know.”
“You understand.”
“That protecting them isn’t a choice? That it tears you up inside when you feel like you can’t get it done?” Her skin was soft under his fingers. “I understand, sweetheart.”
“Yes, you do.” She stroked the back of his neck before sliding her hand up to drift through his hair. “Tell me something about yourself. All I know is that you’re a werewolf, and friends with Gavin, and that your associates are all such handsome scoundrels that I imagine I’ll find every last one of my girls in love when I get back to them.”
“Hopefully, the boys know better.” They didn’t, but telling her they were likely to flirt with her charges would make her feel worse.
“Mmm. But you didn’t answer my question.”
He couldn’t sneak anything past her, which meant he’d have to answer. “What do you want to know?”
She didn’t answer at first. Her fingers continued their meandering path up and down his neck as she curled closer, dragging the thick blanket with her. Finally she blew out a breath and tilted her head back. “Do you want to kiss me as desperately as I want to kiss you?”
His body tightened, but he managed to check his groan. “I kept you away from the rum, didn’t I?”
“I suppose you did.” She brushed her lips along the line of his jaw. “How did you become a werewolf?”
