by Riley Storm
Silence filled the room.
“That’s what I thought,” she said in a very quiet voice, still devastated even though she’d been correct.
“Alison, I—”
She held up a hand, shaking her head. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. You had six months to tell me anything you wanted to say. Six months in which you didn’t even let me know you were alive!”
Despite his big muscles, Lucien looked positively tiny right then.
“Please leave,” she whispered, holding in her anger.
Alison wasn’t mad at him. Well, not any more than she had been. This new rush of ire wasn’t directed at Lucien, but at herself. For letting her guard down, for thinking that they could ever be anything more than just workplace friends.
Of course, nobody wants you for you. You knew that, figured it out a long time ago. Whatever gave you the idea it had changed? You’re broken goods, and they can smell it on you a mile away.
“What?” Lucien asked, stunned.
“Please go,” she repeated, knowing it was better this way. Better that she tell him to leave, instead of waiting for the inevitable where he left her. Again.
“Why are you doing this, Alison?” he asked, pulling himself up straight.
Because I’m afraid of what might happen if I let you stay.
“I don’t like being used by someone pretending to care for me, Lucien,” she said firmly, voicing the other half of her thoughts.
“Pretending?” he echoed weakly, wilting at the verbal barrage, even as he drifted slowly toward the door in seeming shock.
“Just go, please,” she repeated, staring straight ahead, trying not to register the look on his face. This was going to hurt enough without seeing his pain.
“Pretending?” he repeated, pausing halfway to the door, shaking his head over and over again. “Pretending? I haven’t pretended a day in my life when it comes to you,” he finished with a growl, turning mid-step and closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye.
Alison gasped in surprise at his speed, the only sound she was able to make before his mouth crashed into hers. She met it with an urgency she hadn’t realized she felt. Their lips parted and tongues darted in and out. It was quick, powerful, tender, strong, delicate and telling.
She thought about resisting, bringing her hands up to press on his chest, but then slowly, her fingers curled into his shirt, holding him tighter. It was good. So good. As good as she remembered. Better even, because they were alone, and neither of them had to hide the fires burning within. Her body blazed like an inferno wherever his hands roamed. Flames cackled higher as Lucien bent over her with crushing desire that was barely restrained, like a wild dog frantically trying to get free from its leash.
Then he pulled back, abrupt and stark, straightening. His eyes were wide, the blue so pale it was practically white. Electricity raced through them, its frenzied energy directed solely at her.
“Did that feel like pretending?” he growled, then continued before she could say more. “I haven’t told you everything yet, no. Not because I don’t want to. But because there are complications.”
Alison nodded. “I understand, Lucien.”
“You do?”
“I do,” she said gently, then gestured toward the door, stunning herself with her placid calm. “You should solve those first then.”
Lucien licked his lips, ready to protest, but a minute shake of her head, stopped him.
“Right,” he whispered, all the frenzy and passion of their kiss gone. “Right,” he repeated, and went to the door, pulling on his boots, not once meeting her eyes.
She opened the door and he straightened, looking her way one last time. Somehow, Alison stayed strong, refusing to give in to the conflicting emotions within her that urged her to let him stay, to give him time to explain.
He’s had enough time. Six months is more than enough.
Lucien walked outside, and without another word she closed the door behind him, managing to keep her composure for long enough to see the lock through the sudden haze in her vision.
With it closed, she retreated to the couch, curling up on the end of it, trying to sink as deep as possible into the pillows. If she could have melted into it and pulled the pillows in after her, Alison thought she probably would have. Anything to stop her lips from burning where Lucien had kissed them. Anything to extinguish the fire raging in her body where he’d touched her.
It was impossible to forget the raw, unbridled hunger she’d felt. Impossible because it had awoken a similar feeling inside her.
Could it be that maybe he was telling the truth? That he wasn’t pretending? It certainly didn’t feel like it.
Maybe it was possible. There was nothing to say he wasn’t pretending, but that didn’t mean there also weren’t any ulterior motives to his return either. Something was going on, and she didn’t know what it was. All that Alison could be certain of, was that she wasn’t going to expose herself like a raw nerve while he was still holding back. Just because he could set her body on fire, didn’t mean Alison wasn going to be blinded to everything else. That wasn’t how trust worked. It wasn’t how a relationship worked.
Supposedly. Not that she had any good examples to go by in her life.
12
With nowhere else to go, Lucien decided to return to the Granted Holdings company and liaise with Lorik, Lana, and if he had to, Lowwen. There wasn’t anywhere else for him to go anyway, so he may as well go and wait for them to get back from their scouting mission. Hopefully, it went better than his return to Alison’s had.
The sooner he could resolve those “complications” he’d mentioned to Alison, the better. Holding himself back, keeping his distance was harder than anything he’d ever been asked to do before, and Lucien simply did not know how much longer he could keep it up. There were limits to even his prodigious strength.
As long as you don’t need to go the backup route. If things go badly, you’re fucked, because she’s going to think it was on purpose…
He cut those thoughts off. No point in dwelling on what-if’s. That bridge would be crossed if, and only if, all other options exhausted themselves.
Taking some deep breaths, he crossed the street and headed toward the rear entrance of the Granted Holdings warehouse, trying to dispel his anger before he arrived. This trio didn’t deserve any of his impotent wrath. It wasn’t their fault he was upset with himself.
Leaving Alison’s had been hard. Everything in him had screamed out to stay and fight, to hold his ground until she accepted he wasn’t faking how he felt about her, no matter what it took. But Lucien knew better. His brain did, at least. Alison wouldn’t respond to those sorts of things. She needed truth, answers, words.
And until he could provide those to her without hesitation, he wasn’t welcome in her presence. So he’d left, walking across town toward the docks, needing the time to work off his steam.
But he still found himself wishing he’d stayed.
It wouldn’t have done you any good.
He couldn’t quite accept that. This was the second—in her mind, third, if they included him leaving earlier in the day—time he’d left her. True, this time he’d been told to leave, but still. It was establishing a trend he wasn’t entirely comfortable with.
And yet…and yet if he’d stayed and fought too hard, she would have run. There was something skittish inside Alison. She was the type that would choose flight over fight, in this sort of situation at least. That wasn’t to say she was weak. He knew it must have taken a lot for her to throw him out tonight. There was a strength in her, but currently it was a strength born of fear, if he didn’t miss his guess.
The last thing Lucien wanted to do was push too hard and lose her permanently. That was simply not an option. He’d already lost too much lately, and he was determined not to add her to that list. So if that meant letting himself be thrown out into the night, then so be it. Lucien would bear that pressure. He had shoulders bro
ad enough to accept a little more pressure.
Besides, this would give him time to hopefully organize his new allies and rescue his friends. It had already been longer than he would have liked, and the need to go after them was pushing at him harder with every passing hour. The longer they sat in prison, the worse the odds of getting them out became. Still, Lucien knew he would only have one shot at it, and so if that meant taking a little longer to organize to increase the odds, then so be it. Even if his honor was clamoring for him to go already.
With Logan and the others freed, Lucien could hopefully find the right way to reveal everything to Alison. To tell her the truth about him, so they could begin to resolve the issues that had arisen between them.
Reaching the warehouse, he banged a fist on the roll-up door in the arranged manner, then sat back and waited for someone to open it for him.
“Come on guys, open the fuck up,” he growled, banging out the two-one-two pattern a second time. “It’s Lucien.”
The door remained closed. Pulling back his teeth in a silent snarl, Lucien walked around the front to the entry there. If the little shits thought they could stage a mutiny on him, or if Lowwen had somehow re-exerted control, he was going to show them just how wrong they were. It was time to put aside their petty differences and unite for the good of House Canis. None of this fractured bickering and vying for power.
He wasn’t even at the front door yet when his eyes noticed the big black boot mark on the door next to the handle. Without thinking, Lucien crouched down, opening his senses, extending them outward. It took a conscious effort to use his supernatural abilities when in human form, and so he often didn’t. Now, he did, testing the air, ears wide open, listening for faint breathing or the scuffling of feet on the floor. Anything to warm him of a possible ambush.
Somewhere in the distance, a bird screeched as an owl found a meal. A car coughed and sputtered three streets over, and a light bulb somewhere off to his right flickered with too much current, on the verge of going out.
But he detected no sounds from inside, nor from nearby in the parking lot. If someone was lying in wait for him, they were doing so with preternatural care. Either that, or they’re being aided by magic, he thought, trying not to spit at his distaste.
Magic was something Lucien didn’t particularly care for. It was too impersonal for his tastes. Plus he’d seen what an unleashed mage could do when he set his mind to death and destruction, and it was far worse than anything he could manage in his wolf form. No, magic wasn’t for him.
Taking a chance, he walked up to the door and pushed it open, noting the broken latch. The interior was blanketed in darkness. No emergency lights, not even blinking power for alarms or computers. Absolutely nothing. Whoever had come in had killed the power to the entire building.
His eyes slowly adjusted, drinking in the light that spilled in through the door, using that to amplify his vision until he could see once more. Then, and only then, did he prowl around, searching the offices, ensuring they were all empty before he looked at the door to the warehouse itself.
You may as well go in there. If someone has gone to this length to wait for you, they aren’t going to let you go now.
Instead of moving in slowly, however, Lucien barreled through the door at a charge, dropping into a roll and coming up in a crouch, arms spread wide, ready for any attack.
He was greeted by nothing but silence.
“Lorik?” he called, his voice echoing against the metal walls, disturbing the silence for several long seconds before the sound faded away.
“Lana?” he tried, though his senses were already telling him that they weren’t there. Nobody was.
His eyes scanned the room one more time before he straightened and walked over to the roll-up door. It may be devoid of power, but it still had manual operation, and he hauled on the chain until it rose, letting in more of the ambient light from outdoors, giving Lucien a better view.
“Aw shit,” he muttered as the signs of a struggle grew evident. Machinery was bent and misshapen, tables overturned and debris spilled everywhere. The trio clearly hadn’t gone down without a fight.
Walking over to one particularly trashed area, he noted bloodstains. Crouching down, he tapped his finger against it. They were damp, but not fresh. Several hours had passed since this had gone down. Quite possibly, just as he was leaving Alison’s, someone had hit this place.
No, not someone.
“Lyken,” he growled, standing up, knowing that it was his old friend behind this. It had to be. How had he found them though? The trio had been here for months without detection.
Unless the raid that had snared Logan was a catalyst? The King might have decided it was time to round up all the others who had gone rogue. Things were dissolving quickly amongst High House Canis, and it hurt Lucien to the core to know he was a part of it. But what else was he supposed to do? Standing around doing nothing wasn’t an option. He’d done enough of that already.
It was then that he became aware of the presence of another. Lucien spun to see a shape framed in the doorway to the offices. It took a second for him to place the face.
“Lowwen,” he said. “What happened here? How did you escape?”
“Escape?” the former “alpha” of the little pack sneered. “Escape? You can’t be serious. I didn’t escape this. I did it.” He stepped forward, letting Lucien see the look of complete and utter disdain on his face. “I had a little revelation about things, you see.”
Lucien felt his stomach congeal at that knowing tone. The sound of one conspirator to another. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you. You enlightened me to the reality of things today. Showed me my error. So I went and talked to the Captain, and made a deal. I agreed to return to the fold, and all I had to do was give up the rest of you. It was easy. So easy. And I feel good about it,” he crowed, spreading his arms wide. “I feel…home.”
“You betrayed them,” Lucien whispered in cold fury. “You led Lyken here, and gave them up, because I beat you up? Are you insane? You petty bitch!” he roared. “You child. One little thrashing and you run home with your tail between your legs crying for Daddy. Disgraceful. I can’t believe you would do this.”
“I did what any loyal son of Canis would do,” Lowwen proclaimed proudly.
“But why?” Lucien asked, his thoughts elsewhere, on a certain raven-haired beauty with soft cheeks and a complete ignorance of the danger she was now in. “Why, Lowwen?”
“Because I’m tired of living in the shadows,” Lowwen spat unexpectedly. “I’m tired of running from anything that might be my old family. I thought this was the right thing to do, but I was wrong. So wrong.”
“I don’t believe that. What did he promise you?” Lucien asked, his voice dripping with scorn.
Lowwen grinned, his mood shifting with an abruptness that warned of far deeper problems in his psyche than Lucien would probably ever understand.
“He says he’ll put me next in line for a Title Holder position,” Lowwen chortled, lifting his chest with pride and self-worth as he announced the information like he’d already been appointed.
Lucien laughed in his face. “You can’t be serious right now. You believed him? He’s just going to have you killed off the second it’s convenient, you idiot. He’s using you.”
“And you didn’t want to use us?” Lowwen shot back. “You wanted us to fight our own kind. We were happy here, doing our own thing. Then you had to come and get involved. I don’t know what lies you told Lorik and Lana, but they believed you. So I did what was right, and best for them, before they could get themselves killed.”
Lucien was shaking his head. “You’re a coward, Lowwen. That’s what this is about. You got your ass handed to you, and you feel humiliated. But you can’t admit that, so you had to do something else now that you realized you’re too weak to lead your own pack. Instead, you went crawling back to the Manor, mewling for forgiveness. You were never mea
nt to be an alpha. Now, where are the others?”
Lowwen was shaking with frenzied anger, spittle flying from his mouth. “You don’t speak to me like that!” he shouted. “I am your better.”
“You’re trash,” Lucien said, lunging for Lowwen.
Lowwen danced backward, wagging a finger in the air, a nasty smile appearing on his face. “Ah ah ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Lucien paused. “Give me one good reason not to,” he snarled, chest rising and falling heavily, his anger barely restrained. “And it had better be a good one.”
“Your lady friend.”
The blood in his veins ran cold. Lucien stared in horror. “What have you done?” he gasped. Alison!
“Kill me, and your lady love gets it.” Lowwen sneered derisively, clearly feeling back in control of the situation.
Lucien slumped over. How? How had they found out about Alison?
It was obvious, he realized. Lowwen must have followed his trail. Lucien hadn’t exactly hidden when he’d walked back across town earlier. If Lowwen had recovered his wits fast enough, he could easily have tracked him. From there, all he had to do was call Lyken and—
Lucien’s head snapped up, the thought too horrific to give voice to. “So what you’re saying, is that if I kill you, they’ll hurt her?”
“Yes. If I don’t call them in the next twenty minutes, then she suffers.”
Lucien stared at the man five feet away, trying to determine if he was seriously that stupid or not. While he looked, Lowwen’s smile became a grin.
He was really telling the truth.
“Twenty minutes eh,” Lucien said, calculating how fast he could get back across town.
Not fast enough on two legs, he decided, even at a flat-out run.
But on four…
By this point, Lowwen had realized something was amiss. “Hey, remember—”
“Oh I remember,” Lucien snarled. “If I kill you, she suffers. But what if I just maim you horribly?” he asked with a wicked smile, and closed the distance in a flash.
