Tall, Dark & Furious (A Pyte/Sentinel Novel Book 6)

by R. L. Mathewson

  If he hadn’t handcuffed her hands behind her back, Indie would have been tempted to have a better look around, but since she was currently handcuffed and stuck sitting on the lumpy bed that smelled funny, she was going to have to settle for simply enjoying this moment. When she made the mistake of glancing back to her right and found the angry man glaring at her through silver eyes, Indie gave him what she hoped was a friendly smile only to decide that it would be in her best interest to return her attention back to the rug only to find another one of those weird white stains.

  “Why were you in that house?” he asked while she sat there trying to figure out how much she should tell him only to remember that she didn’t actually know anything.

  “I don’t know,” Indie said as she shifted her attention to the faded blue and red comforter and frowned when she spotted yet another weird white stain, unable to help but wonder how they got there.

  “I see,” he said as she tilted her head with a frown, noting the way that the white stain seemed to be concentrated in a small circle before spreading out in a tail-like manner, almost as though it had been shot out of something.

  “How long were you there?”

  “Twenty-five years, five months, two weeks, and four days,” she said absently.

  “And what exactly are you?” he asked as she gave up trying to figure out the mystery stain and admitted with a shrug, “A mistake.”

  Chapter 10

  Westdrom, Maine

  “Let me out!” the small woman that should have run when she had the chance said as she continued pounding on the pantry door.

  “No,” Trace said even as he yanked the chair away from where he’d had it wedged beneath the doorknob and opened the door, needing to see with his own eyes that she was really unharmed. She opened her mouth to say something else, but he was already shutting the door and shoving the chair back in place to keep her from getting herself in more trouble.

  “We need to leave, Trace,” Samantha said, sounding frustrated as he stood there, taking in the destruction surrounding him and-

  “Thank y-oh, come on!” his wife said with an exasperated sigh when he opened the door only to immediately shut it again after he ran his eyes over her one more time.

  Once he assured himself that he hadn’t hurt her, Trace shoved the chair back against the door, sat down and tried not to think about what could have happened. She should have run or at the very least, found a better hiding spot than a cupboard with the doors ripped off and her only protection the dog currently sitting in front of him with a pitiful look on his face. He released another pathetic whimper that had Trace rolling his eyes and reaching over to scratch the dog between his ears.

  “Trace, we need to leave before it’s too late,” his wife said with a heavy sigh.

  “We’re staying here,” he said as he closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the door as he did his best to block out the incredible aroma coming from behind that door only to open his eyes when he saw the old stone walls of his tomb staring back at him.

  “They’re going to be coming for you, Trace,” she said as she tried to push the door open.

  “Good,” he said because he wanted them to come.

  He wanted his revenge, more than anything else he wanted to look into their eyes when he tore their throats out, but for the bitch that sent him into that hole…

  He had something else in mind for her.

  He was going to make sure that she found out what it felt like to die for eternity. He was going to change her and shove her into a tomb, making sure that she was too fucking weak to do anything more than scream and he was going to enjoy every fucking mo-

  “We have to leave!”

  “We’re staying.”

  “Are you crazy? They’re coming to kill you!” Samantha said, slapping her hands against the door.

  “I know,” he said, wondering how long he was going to have to wait.

  “It’s not going to be like the last time, Trace!”

  “And how would you know that, wife?” he drawled, already knowing that it wouldn’t be like the last time, because he wasn’t the trusting boy that had let himself be led by his cock. This time he-

  “Your father told me, Trace. As long as we stay here, we’re in danger. You won’t be able to stop them!”

  “And did my father tell you who ‘they’ were?” he asked, wondering what his wife would do if she knew that a Pack of werewolves was after him.

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  “And you believed him?” Trace asked, curious since most humans had a hard time accepting the fact that the world they lived in was so much more frightening than they could have ever imagined.

  “I’m trying not to think of it at the moment,” she said, making his lips twitch.

  “And you’re not afraid?”

  “I-I’m terrified,” she said weakly, as he sat there, realizing that the incredible scent that she was giving off was terror.

  “Your father is setting up a plan to get us safely out of here, Trace,” she rushed on to explain while he sat there telling himself that it didn’t matter if she was afraid, but as he sat there thinking of that look on her face when he’d come out of the black haze that had swallowed him whole, he realized that it mattered.

  It was a look that he never wanted to see on her face again, Trace decided as he reluctantly stood up and pulled the chair free.

  *-*-*-*

  “Wait, we can talk about this,” Samantha mumbled weakly as she stood there, watching as the crazed man that she never should have agreed to help threw the torch on her front porch.

  A choked whimper escaped her as she stood there, hugging the large duffle bag that Trace’s father had left for him against her chest as she watched the house that she’d hated coming to when she was a kid and the one that she’d, unfortunately sank her life savings into, went up in flames. She still wasn’t sure how it came to this. One minute, she was locked in the pantry, trying to talk some sense into him and the next, she was rushing to pack a bag, trying not to panic as he calmly walked around the house, dousing everything in the old kerosene he’d found in the back shed. She’d barely had enough time to grab her bag when she found herself herded towards the front door with Charlie at her heels, nipping at her any time that she slowed down.

  “We have to go,” the crazed man said as she stood there, really wishing that she’d asked a few follow-up questions before she’d agreed to do this.

  “I just replaced the hot water tank,” she said hollowly, as she watched flames engulf the second floor, trying not to think of all the extra shifts that she’d worked to pay for it.

  “Wife? We need to leave,” Trace said, gesturing towards the woods with the bag that she’d managed to pack.

  “Sure,” she said numbly with a weak nod and a shrug as she reluctantly turned around and headed for her SUV.

  Sighing, Samantha opened the back door and gestured for the little bastard to get in. With a glare, Charlie trotted past her and jumped in the back. Shutting the door, she turned around and-

  “What are you doing?” the man that had probably just voided her fire insurance asked as she walked around to the back of the car and opened the hatch so that she could throw his bag in the back.

  Trace followed her and did the same with her bag as he took in everything from the extra set of scrubs that she’d thrown back there to the small collection of empty soda bottles, candy bar wrappers, and god only knows what that had been thrown back here over the past year. Gesturing for him to stand back, she closed the hatch, walked around to the passenger side door, opened it, and gestured for him to get in.

  With a frown, Trace looked inside the car and asked, “What is this?”

  “Transportation,” she said, because she was honestly too tired to do anything more than that.

  “Transportation,” he mumbled as he nervously licked his lips and after a slight hesitation, he climbed inside.

  When she closed the door, he ju
mped back, rocking the SUV in the process and making her groan. “Sorry,” she mouthed with a sympathetic wince as she walked back around, climbed in, and started the car, which of course caused him to grab onto the door and-

  Crack!

  “It’s the engine. It makes the car go,” Samantha said even as she decided that it might be a good idea to shut the radio off for now.

  “Okay,” he said, nodding as his hold on her door tightened and-

  Crack!

  “Apologies,” he murmured, shooting her a sheepish look as he forced himself to relax his hold.

  “Okay, we’re about to move so just try to relax, okay? I’m going to go as slow as I can, but we have to go now,” she said, right around the time that her oil tank blew.

  After a brief hesitation, he nodded.

  With that, she put the car in drive, took her foot off the break and-

  “Bloody hell!” he yelled, adding that extra touch that she needed to bring her pounding headache back up to a migraine as she let the car roll forward, deciding that it would probably be for the best if she eased him into this.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, noting that she was barely going ten miles an hour as she glanced over to find him glaring back at her through red eyes as he held on for dear life.

  Noticeably swallowing, he nodded after a slight hesitation.

  Matching his nod with one of her own, she checked the rear-view mirror and realized that it probably wouldn’t be long before someone saw the smoke and called the fire department.

  “Okay, then if you think you’re ready, I’m going to see how you handle going fifteen miles an hour,” Samantha said, pressing on the gas and hoped for the best.

  Chapter 11

  Williams Mansion

  “If you could stop staring that would be great,” Kara, the latest addition to the Williams household, drawled as she grabbed another one of those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that her mate made for her as Kale sat there trying to figure out why he couldn’t sense the twin that she should be carrying.

  “It’s getting creepy,” Izzy said absently from where she lounged on the couch next to him with her back propped up against the stack of pillows he’d placed against the armrest for her, her legs thrown over his, a large bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and a baby monitor by her side, and an iPad in her hands.

  “It really is,” Cloe agreed from the other couch where she was slowly savoring another Hostess cherry pie, knowing that it could be her last.

  She wouldn’t be able to eat anything again until the next time she was pregnant and she damn well better not get pregnant again, Kale thought, fucking exhausted just thinking about the past month he’d spent keeping her safe. Any other Pyte and he wouldn’t have bothered, but he’d made the decision to protect her, and that meant breaking the promise he’d made to his sister, something that he never thought that he would do.

  “I can’t sense a twin,” Drew said as he stared intently at the soft swell of his mate’s belly, trying to figure out why they couldn’t scent the twin who was supposed to be there to mask the unborn Sentinel’s scent and make his birth possible.

  “It has to be there, but I can’t sense him,” Drew said, frowning.

  “That’s because it’s a girl,” Christofer, their resident ion, said absently from where he sat on the floor by his mate’s side, not bothering to look up from the sketchpad on his lap only to add, “and she’s an Alpha,” after a slight hesitation.

  Kale caught the pleased expression on the shifter’s face before he leaned over and kissed his mate while Kale sat there wondering if they had any idea how lucky they were. As an impure descended from Sentinels, she was rare, very rare, add her Alpha status on top of that and it was guaranteed that she would never have to worry about losing a child. They would all be born strong, but more importantly, they’d all be born Alphas, something that had every Pack on earth salivating to get their hands on her, because the mating rules didn’t apply to her. Any shifter could get her pregnant, but they’d all be Alphas, something that they could use to make their Packs stronger.

  Normally, the first few pregnancies for a shifter were always difficult, but the babies that were unfortunate enough to be born human during those pregnancies didn’t stand a chance.

  His mother had twenty miscarriages and lost five children their first year before she’d had him. She’d managed to have ten healthy children before he’d made the biggest mistake of his life, Kale thought as his gaze landed on the reminder of everything that he’d lost. He watched as Marc walked into the room with little Jessica doing her best to keep up with the boy. He felt the rage that was never far from the surface rise as the boy who was only a few years away from becoming unstoppable met his gaze head-on.

  “Did you just growl?” Cloe asked, frowning as Kale allowed his eyes to shift silver and his fangs to slide down as he-

  The bag of peanut butter cups hit him in the head, drawing his attention from the boy trying not to show fear to find Izzy glaring at him. “Behave,” she warned with a murderous glare that had him rolling his eyes as he helped himself to the bag of peanut butter cups that he was keeping.

  “Wait. Those are mine,” Izzy said, struggling to sit up so that she could steal his chocolate.

  “Mine now,” Kale said, popping a peanut butter cup in his mouth as he shifted his attention to the large Pyte walking into the room, absently noting the strain on the Pyte’s face as he unwrapped another peanut butter cup.

  If he didn’t know better, Kale would have thought the strain of watching his mate and unborn child dying was taking its toll on the Pyte, but he did know better. He also knew that the Pyte was about to ask for a favor that he was more than happy to accept.

  For a price.

  *-*-*-*

  Carta, Washington

  “Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you,” Ethan said to the small woman that he’d spent the last twenty-five years looking for.

  “Hmm?” she murmured distractedly as she continued glancing around the hotel room he’d rented for the night, taking in every detail as he sat there, trying to figure out why the bitch would risk everything to hide this woman from him.

  “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you,” Ethan repeated, looking for any resemblance to the bitch only to frown when he didn’t find any.

  While the bitch that would pay for what she did to his son was painfully beautiful, this woman…

  Was not.

  She didn’t have Mary’s golden curls, her pale blue eyes, or her perfect figure. What she did have was a pair of curious bright blue eyes, an adorable face, long wavy caramel hair that he hadn’t been able to resist running his fingers through when he’d found her curled up fast asleep in her small bed, and an otherwise unremarkable figure that he shouldn’t have noticed.

  “I can’t,” she said absently as she frowned down at the comforter with a curious tilt of her head.

  “You’re not going to beg for your life?” Ethan asked, trying to decide if he should just cut his losses and kill her now or bring her with him.

  Then again, if this turned out to be another trap…

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t see the point,” she said with a small shrug as she shifted her attention to the nightstand with that curious frown that she’d been wearing since he woke her up with a gun pressed beneath her jaw and a quiet warning.

  “And why’s that?” Ethan asked, rubbing his hands roughly down his face as he sat there, struggling to stay in control when all he wanted to do was go see his son with his own two eyes, but that wasn’t an option right now. Not until the sun went down. So, until then, he was going to stay here and get answers.

  “It only makes things worse,” she said with another careless shrug that had him once again wondering what he was dealing with.

  Then again, he’d been wondering that for the past twenty-five years since he found out that the bitch had gone to the ends of the earth to hid
e a female infant from him. At first, he’d thought that she’d hidden her child to keep her safe, but that would have meant that she’d cared, which they both knew she didn’t. As far as he knew, she’d only had one child, a male, who she’d killed when he’d started to show alpha tendencies when he was barely two years old.

  Instead of cherishing that child and protecting it until it reached its immortality for the good of her Pack, Mary slit his throat and tossed his small body aside. The conniving bitch killed off her Pack’s Alpha a long time ago and would do whatever it took to maintain control of her Pack, which made him wonder about the small woman that she’d tried to hide from him.

  That had him wondering what she was and why the bitch had risked half her Pack to protect her. Whatever she was, she was his now, he decided as he glanced at the heavy curtains that he’d pulled shut earlier to block out the light and made sure that they were still closed before shifting his attention back to the woman who was frowning down at the comforter.

  “What do you think those white stains are?” she asked, making him frown as she drew his attention to one of the many reasons why he preferred seedy motels like this one.

  They covered his scent.

  At least, they normally did, but right now, all he could smell was the intoxicating scent coming off the small woman that he was going to focus on as he struggled not to lose his damn mind.

  Trace was alive.

  Right now, that had to be enough.

  “Where are we going?” she asked when he pulled her to her feet and headed towards the bathroom when he realized what she was looking at.

  “Are you going to tell me what I need to know?” he asked, shoving the bathroom door open and headed for the rust-stained bathtub.

  “Probably not,” she mumbled with a sigh, as her small shoulders dropped in defeat and he found himself staring at the artery in her neck, imagining just how good it would feel to slide his fangs through that lightly tanned skin and-