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

by R. L. Mathewson

  “No,” Kara mumbled with a sniffle because she wasn’t sure that she would ever be okay.

  “Damn it,” Izzy mumbled at whatever she saw.

  “Is everything okay?” Kara asked as she put a little more distance between her and that bathroom door.

  “I’m not sure yet,” Izzy said, already lost in whatever was going on.

  For a moment, Kara stood there, debating her next move only to decide that she really could go for another Drew Special, which meant getting off her butt and finding her mate. With a murmured, “See you later,” she got up and headed out the door, only to be forced to duck into the supply closet seconds later when she spotted the large Sentinel that loved to torment her heading towards the office.

  Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Kara stood there, listening and waiting for the coast to be clear only to groan when the door opened and the large asshole that was easily amused leaned against the doorway. “What are you doing?” Chris asked, looking bored as he pulled his phone out of his back pocket and began scrolling through his text messages.

  “Trying to decide between blue or black ink,” Kara said, gesturing towards the neatly stacked boxes of pens on the shelf.

  “I thought you were hiding from your mate,” he said, typing something into his phone.

  “Why would I be hiding from Drew?” she asked as she stood there, frowning in confusion only to curse, grab the large Sentinel by the shirt and drag him inside the supply closet and slam the door shut when the Sentinel said, “He has your iPad.”

  “Did he look mad?” Kara asked, shoving the Sentinel aside so that she could search the shelves for something to lock the door with only to berate herself for not finding a better hiding spot when she realized that there was nothing here to save her.

  “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Drew drawled from behind her, making her wince only to make her whimper when he wrapped his arm around her and dragged her out of the closet.

  “Help. Me,” she mouthed to the large Sentinel, who simply shot her a wink and continued making his way to the office where Kara hoped the spider was waiting to tear him apart.

  “Is there anything that you want to tell me?” Drew asked conversationally as he released her so that he could take her small hand in his and entwine their fingers.

  “I almost died?” Kara said, hoping to use sympathy to save her.

  “That’s what I heard,” he murmured absently as he led her to the back staircase.

  Sniffle. “It was terrifying,” she mumbled, sniffled, and because she really had no shame, she placed her hand over the slight swell of her belly where their babies were growing.

  Drew’s gaze flickered to her belly and-

  “I found the files,” he said, releasing her hand halfway up the stairs and leaned back against the wall.

  “I figured,” Kara said, sighing heavily as she moved to head up the stairs only to have Drew stop her with a touch.

  “I thought you were happy here.”

  “I am,” she assured him, knowing that they were here so that they could keep her safe. She also knew how much the move had cost him, it was just…

  She’d given up the only thing that she’d ever wanted.

  Then again, Drew and the babies were more than she could have ever hoped for and she couldn’t wait to be a mom, but…

  “This isn’t the life that you’d always dreamed of, is it?” Drew asked as he wrapped his arms around her.

  “There are so many bugs,” she said, making him chuckle.

  “That tends to happen near the woods,” he told her with a kiss against the side of her neck as he placed his hands over her belly.

  “I know,” she mumbled sadly, feeling his lips pull into a smile against her skin.

  “The Sentinel, huh?” he said, resting his chin on her shoulder.

  “It was just an idea,” Kara said, shrugging it off, but she was curious what he thought about the club that she’d been dreaming of opening one day.

  “Just an idea, huh?”

  “Yes,” she said as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.

  “We’ll have our club back one day,” he said with a heartfelt sigh, making her frown.

  “You promise?” she asked, placing her arms over his.

  “Yes. We just have to wait for the right time. Right now, they’re having problems keeping the Boston Packs in line.”

  “We knew that was going to happen,” Kara said, granted, she’d actually expected one of the other Packs to take over by now and force the other Packs to come to heel.

  “True, but I don’t think anyone expected the level of chaos happening right now.”

  “The war’s coming, Drew,” she said, which was another reason why they needed to-

  “It’s already here,” Chris said, looking grim as he came down the stairs and handed them an iPad and what they saw on the screen had her wondering how they were going to survive this.

  Chapter 24

  Westdrom, Maine

  He needed the sun to come up and he needed it now, Trace thought, slowly exhaling as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He was exhausted, but every time he allowed his eyes to shut, he found himself back in that tomb, staring at the stones keeping him trapped.

  Terrified that this would end up being another dream and the next time that he opened his eyes that he would find himself trapped back in that tomb, he forced himself to stay awake. When he felt his eyelids begin to slide shut, he gave his head a shake and ground his jaw as he sat there, clenching his hands into fists as he forced himself to focus on the small woman asleep in the bed across the room.

  As he sat there with his back pressed against the wall, Trace thought about how soft her skin was, how it felt to run his fingers through her hair and…felt his head begin to drop only to force his head back up with a firm shake. He forced his eyes open, noting that everything was now red and-

  Watched as the small woman that he felt himself drawn to open her eyes and went still when she saw that the room was now pitch-black. He listened as her breath caught and her heartbeat sped up as the scent of fear slowly permeated the air. She licked her lips nervously as she tightened her grip around the blankets. Swallowing hard, her gaze shifted towards the closed bedchamber door before glancing around the room again.

  As he waited for her to scream, he felt his eyes begin to close again and the stones of his tomb flashed across his vision, forcing him to struggle to open his eyes as a pained groan escaped him. He didn’t want to go back to that tomb. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t spend another moment kneeling on that hard floor, struggling to take in air that wasn’t there, feeling like he was being cooked alive, surrounded by hard, unforgiving surfaces that tore at his skin anytime he moved.

  Fighting exhaustion with everything he had, Trace opened his eyes and found himself watching as his wife slowly pushed the covers aside and after a slight hesitation, she slowly climbed off the bed and stood there, staring at the red glow of his eyes while he sat there, waiting for her to run away and knowing that he didn’t have the energy to stop her.

  Keeping her eyes locked in his direction, Samantha blindly reached back and grabbed a blanket off the bed, making him frown. He watched in confusion as she walked towards him. When she reached him, he found himself moving his legs apart so that she wouldn’t trip only to find himself grunting when she sat down between his legs, accidentally, at least he was telling himself that it was an accident, elbowing him in the stomach before she shifted to get more comfortable. Once she was settled, she pulled the blanket up so that it covered them both, curled up against him, laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes with a soft sigh.

  Before he realized what he was doing, Trace found himself wrapping his arms around her. For several minutes, he was content to simply sit there holding her as he listened to her breathe as the sounds of her heart beating slowly lulled him to sleep and this time when his eyes began to close, he didn’t fight it.

  *-*-*
-*

  She could sleep like this forever, Samantha thought with a sigh as she opened her eyes and-

  Decided that she definitely preferred the comfort of a bed over the ceiling any day of the week. Trying not to panic, and admittedly not doing a very good job of it, she grabbed hold of the large man somehow pressing her against the ceiling, squeezed her eyes shut and whispered his name.

  When nothing happened, and she wasn’t exactly sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing at this moment, she swallowed hard, cleared her throat and said his name a little louder.

  Nothing.

  “Trace?”

  A grumble.

  “Trace?”

  A grumble, a groan and something that she really couldn’t understand, not over her screams at least since he chose that moment to roll over onto his back, which was something that she admittedly hadn’t been prepared for. In seconds, he had his arms wrapped tightly around her and was rolling her over onto her back and-

  She decided that she never wanted to do this again when they hit the floor a few seconds later with a pained grunt. Yeah, definitely not something that she wanted to experience again, Samantha decided as she sat up to make sure that he was okay only to find herself staring down into a pair of angry red eyes.

  When he continued to glare, she shifted only to rethink that decision when she felt that very large part of him that she would probably be better off not thinking about pushing against her bottom and how good it felt. Not really sure what she was supposed to say at this point, she blurted out, “I’m Samantha,” which resulted in those terrifying red eyes narrowing on her and giving her two choices, ramble on like an idiot or pass out and hope for the best.

  For some reason, she went with rambling like an idiot.

  “My name is Samantha, but nobody calls me that for some reason. I prefer Samantha, but at this point it’s a losing battle because as soon as I tell someone my name they automatically start calling me Sam for some reason,” she said, sighing heavily with a sad shake of her head and a, “I really wish they’d stop doing that.”

  When he only continued to glare, she cleared her throat, moved to shift to get more comfortable, thought better of it, and mumbled, “My brother calls me Sammie, but I think that’s because he’s secretly hoping that I kill him in his sleep.”

  This time a tiny muscle in his clenched jaw noticeably throbbed, so she decided to point out, “We’ve never been formally introduced,” with what she hoped was a warm smile only to end up mumbling, “You’re just gonna keep calling me wife, aren’t you?”

  “Good talk,” she found herself murmuring absently when he continued to glare as she debated the best way to climb off him without making this awkward only to find herself scrambling off him when he moved to get up. By the time that he stormed out of the room, she was already in the bathroom shutting the door behind her, locking it and leaning back against it, telling herself that it would make a difference, really hoping that his father was able to get here before she said something to get herself killed.

  *-*-*-*

  It wasn’t helping, Trace realized, even as he forced himself to finish off the bag of cold blood that was turning his already full stomach and forced himself to grab another one as he stood there fighting the urge to go back upstairs and-

  Shoved another bag to his mouth as punishment until even that wasn’t enough. Tearing the empty bag from his fangs, he threw it in the sink with the others and found himself groaning when he heard the shower turn on upstairs. He tried thinking about something else, tried telling himself that he didn’t care that his wife was upstairs taking her clothes off, or how good it felt to run his hands over her soft skin, the way she licked her lips when he ran his fingers through her hair only to find himself rubbing his palm over his trapped cock as he thought about her heart-shaped ass, the large breasts that he’d forced himself to ignore, and the soft thatch of dark hair between her legs.

  As he pushed his trousers down and freed his aching cock, he thought about all those things that his father hoped that he didn’t see when they’d lived in whore houses. He thought about the way the whores had moaned when they’d been fucked, the way they’d lifted their skirts and bent over so that they could be fucked up against the wall, over a table, on the floor, and all the things they did to make a man hard and he imagined that it was Samantha doing all those things for him.

  As he wrapped his hand around his hard cock, he wondered what it would feel like to have his wife wrap her small hand around him. He wondered what it would feel like to watch her wrap her lips around his cock and suck him. He wondered if she’d moan, if she’d continue to stroke him as she took him in her mouth.

  He wondered what it would be like to touch her breasts, if they’d be as soft as the rest of her. He wondered how it would feel to take her breast in his mouth as he slid his hand between her legs. A loud moan was torn from his lips as pleasure rode through his cock.

  Groaning, he cupped the tip in his palm and his other hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he found himself rolling his hips. He wanted to go upstairs and join his wife in the shower. He wanted to press her up against the wall as he grabbed hold of her hips so that he could pull her back and slide his cock inside her as she moaned his name and-

  “Samantha.”

  Chapter 25

  Miriam, Nebraska

  “She’s fine.”

  “Would you stop fucking saying that?” Ethan snapped as Indie laid there, feeling like she was being burned alive.

  “I mean, at least she has some color back in her cheeks,” Jacob said as he gestured weakly at her while she couldn’t help but wonder why they weren’t putting her out of her misery.

  “That’s because she has a fever, asshole!” Ethan snapped, rubbing his hands roughly down his face before he dropped them away with another curse.

  “What was on that blade?” Jacob asked as he reached over and-

  “Stop fucking touching her!” Ethan growled, shoving the shifter’s large hand away before he could start poking at her incision, something that she was immensely thankful for.

  “It doesn’t look infected,” Jacob said, frowning down at the incision that she deeply regretted starting at this moment.

  Ethan mumbled something that had them both frowning.

  “What was that?” Jacob asked, glancing from her wound to Ethan and-

  “Holy oil,” Ethan said, with an unreadable look as Indie laid there, absently nodding even though she had absolutely no idea what that was supposed to mean for her.

  Frowning, Jacob looked from her to Ethan and back again. “But that shouldn’t…” he mumbled absently only to shake his head in confusion as they stared down at her, something that she really wished they’d stop doing.

  “Kill…me…” Indie mumbled as she closed her eyes and waited for them to do just that.

  There was a heavy sigh and then…

  “Indie,” Ethan said softly, “I need to know what you are so that we can figure out how to fix this.”

  Her hold tightened around the surprisingly comfortable comforter that she’d passed out on earlier as she said, “I don’t know.”

  “Indie, I need to know,” Ethan said as she felt him brush her hair back behind her ear.

  Opening her eyes, she mumbled, “I don’t know. They never told me.”

  For a moment, he simply knelt there, watching her while he ran his fingertips down her jaw.

  “Oh, thank fucking god,” Jacob said, shoving a Reese’s peanut butter cup in his mouth and headed for the hotel suite’s door when a knock sounded. A moment later, he was walking back over to the bed with a large man with short dark hair and the kindest green eyes that she’d ever seen.

  “I hear you’re not feeling good, Indie,” the man said with a warm smile as he reached over and-

  Immediately pulled his hand back when Ethan’s eyes turned silver. “Where’s Caine?” Ethan asked as he stood up, coming between her and the large man that she was kind of hopin
g was here to kill her.

  Everything hurt.

  “He needed to get back to Danni,” he said as Indie closed her eyes, unable to help but notice how incredibly sexy his voice was.

  “What’s your name, human?” Ethan asked as Indie curled into herself, biting her lip to stop herself from sobbing when the trembling started again.

  “Noah. I’m a doctor,” the newcomer said as Indie opened her eyes again so that she could pull another blanket over her only to realize that she could barely move.

  Nodding, Ethan asked, “Do you know what I’ll do to you if she dies?”

  Grinding his jaw, Noah met his glare as he said, “I have a pretty good idea.”

  “Then fix her,” Ethan said, stepping aside just as everything went black.

  *-*-*-*

  “No,” the small woman that was terrifying him mumbled weakly as Ethan pulled back the blankets they’d piled on top of her and-

  “She’s burning up!” Ethan snapped with an accusing glare aimed at the human who’d better fucking fix this.

  “Look, I don’t know what she is, but from everything that I’m seeing, I would say that we’re dealing with the flu,” Noah said, frowning down at Indie as Ethan stood there, wondering what the hell was taking the shifter so long.

  “She’s not fucking human,” Ethan said, glancing back down at Indie as she tried to curl into herself as the trembling that he’d thought had stopped started all over again.

  “Then, what is she?”

  “I don’t fucking know,” Ethan said as he turned her over and gently pulled her shirt down so that he could check her freshly stitched incision, making sure that it still looked good.

  “It’s not infected,” the man that had calmly dug the tracker out of Indie’s back while Ethan thought that he was going to lose his fucking mind as he’d been forced to hold her down as she’d cried, begging him to stop, said.

  “It’s not healing,” Ethan said, wondering why it was taking so long to close.