Tim's bloody brow wrinkled. Concern was written all over him. He pulled back his hand like she'd bitten him. “I have one in my office. I'll take care of it.” He eyed her carefully. “Why don't you call it a night? The guys will finish the class for you.”
Makenna nodded numbly. “Thanks.”
Without looking anyone in the eye, she mumbled another thanks to the guys and slid through the crowd, unstrapping her pads along the way. After shoving them in her bag, she zipped it halfway and scooped it up. She darted out the door before anyone decided to try and stop her.
The darkness pulled at her as she ran to her truck. Bony fingers clutching at her heart and mind, wanting her to fall into the abyss. She'd crawled out of that hole several times before, but it always seemed to pull her back in.
When her aunt and uncle died.
When she'd almost killed that kid in junior high.
Now with what had happened tonight, with what she'd done to a man she cared about and respected, she could feel the earth giving way beneath her feet.
She jerked open the truck door and threw her bag toward the passenger side. The buckle on the strap clanked against the window. She jumped in and slammed the door as she jammed the keys in the ignition and fired the engine. Squealing tires, she peeled out of the lot and down the quiet street.
She hadn't turned the stereo down earlier, so blazing guitar and pounding drums pulsed around her. Passing the turn for her street, she drove on. Where should she go?
She couldn't go home yet. Too many reminders of Rhys bounced around the walls.
She couldn't go to Ray's. She was way too wound up.
It was a weeknight, so Mr. Labeaux's shop was already closed and he was probably kicked back in his recliner watching Jeopardy.
The bar would be crazed right now, even on a Monday. It was Mardi Gras, after all. The last place she needed to be was surrounded by a bunch of drunks who'd just piss her off and wake the damn beast up again.
With a ragged sigh chased by tears, she realized she had nowhere to go. No friends, no family. No one who cared. But that was for the best, wasn't it? Tonight proved that. She couldn't let anyone close. The only one who'd escaped unscathed so far was Rhys. For once, someone else had done the damage to her.
As the lights of the city faded behind her, the wind from the open window exchanged the scents of concrete, frying food, and the river, for the muskier, rich aroma of the bayou. In the growing darkness, Makenna let the tears free. A solitary conclusion formed from her agonized thoughts.
That pain slicing through her, the rip in her soul Rhys had caused?
She more than deserved it.
She was a freak of nature.
More than human yet less than nothing.
She didn't belong among decent people. The control she'd thought she had over the thing inside of her had been an illusion. Maybe she should just jump into the swamp and let the gators end her cursed, pathetic existence before the beast took over completely.
Strangely, that beast was quiet, whimpering in the corner and pining for a man who'd nearly destroyed them.
Dumb fucking animal.
Heading to the only place she knew she could find some semblance of comfort, she turned off the main road and took a dirt lane she knew led deep into the swamp. The beast's ears perked up again. A short howl rolled from its mouth. Strangely, Makenna interpreted it as approval.
Now shit was really getting weird. But what else did she expect? She'd been losing her damn mind for years. She was bound to finally fall over the edge.
The beast now standing and wagging its tail, she kept driving until the lane turned to a trail. No more gravel. No more smooth grooves from tires. Only barely-there indentations from wheels made a while ago, tall grass, and holes that grew increasingly muddier.
She pulled to a stop and killed the engine. The beast had her completely under its spell now, the smells and sounds of the murky depths calling to her. Joy and anticipation radiated from the creature, infecting her. She had no clue why or how, like most things in her life, but she knew this was where she belonged. She slid out, shutting the door quietly behind her, not wanting to disturb the peace washing over her soul.
Peace. A balm to the jagged edges of her psyche. A feeling she didn’t experience often, if ever.
She wandered to a fallen tree and sat down, pulling her knees to her chest.
And so she sat, her harried thoughts settling, the pieces of her heart inching their way back toward where they belonged. Closing her eyes, she laid her head on her knees and let it all soak in. Let everything else fade away.
No more questions. No elusive answers.
Her tears and pain and confusion faded to the background.
There was only peace.
The only thing missing was the man her heart, her soul, and the beast screamed for with everything they had.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hunger
“Rhys, you coming, brother?”
Trystan's hand on Rhys' shoulder drew his attention from looking out across the dark water. He glanced out of the corner of his eye one more time. Something was out there.
“Yes.” After one last look, he turned with Trystan to head to where the pack had gathered in the center of the camp.
Trystan cocked an eyebrow. “You all right? You've been off the past couple days.” His gaze hardened. “Has something happened? News you haven't shared?”
Rhys stopped, still out of hearing range of the group. He eyed Trystan, keeping his features bland. “You mean like the information you haven’t shared with me?” Trystan had the grace to look away. “Why would you ask that anyway?”
Trystan crossed his arms and settled his stance. “You're different. I can't put my finger on it, but something has changed. Ever since you told us you found Makenna.” He fairly growled her name. Suspicion Rhys had never seen from him whispered in his tone.
He sighed. Lying to his best friend, to his people, had never been something he'd done. He'd always been upfront, even brutal, with the truth. They had no secrets. Especially he and Trystan.
Until lately, that is.
Rhys knew Trystan wouldn’t be pleased with how things had gone down. If he found out Rhys had mated Makenna, he’d lose his shit. There was even the remote chance Trystan was still angry enough he’d harm Makenna. Then Rhys would have to kill him.
He had no choice but to remain silent. It was for the best. He was protecting not only his friend, but Makenna.
“Of course I'm all right. I've found my mate.” He glanced at his people as they milled about, waiting on him and Trystan to join them for the pack run. He turned back to Trystan, who had a strange look on his face. Like he wanted to say something but was holding back. “And no new information has come to me since we last talked. You know what I know.” He almost choked on the lie. At Trystan's wary glance, he knew he had to change tactics to get him off the scent. “You'll be different too when you realize who your mate is.”
Trystan stiffened. “What do you mean, when I realize who she is?”
Rhys shrugged and started walking again. “Brother, the key to your entire world, the other half of your soul, is right in front of your face and you have no idea.”
He wondered for the millionth time how the male didn't see what was plain as day to everyone else. Hell, Trystan getting Ciarra to go out with him had been a task. All the female’s avoided anything serious with Trystan because even they knew he was basically already claimed.
Trystan shook his head, a snarl building in his throat. “Fuck, are you gonna try to shove me and Amanda together again?” He snorted as he kicked a clump of mud. “She's my friend. A close friend, yes, and we have a good time together, but that's all.”
It was Rhys' turn to snort. The whole clan knew every time a female broke his heart to prevent angering his intended mate, Trystan ran to Amanda. The two tried to keep their trysts secret, but it was pointless. Rhys wondered why Amanda put up with it. She was in love wit
h Trystan, knew he was her mate and had for years. Yet she'd never told him. She wanted him to feel it for himself first. Rhys could understand that, but he couldn't imagine how Amanda dealt with the jealousy, the possessiveness. How she could stomach Trystan being with other women, knowing he was hers.
Hell, if Makenna even looked at another male he'd fly into a rage the likes of which had never been seen.
Rhys slapped Trystan on the back. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Rhys believed Trystan knew. He had to feel the pull. But he was absolutely, insanely terrified of binding his soul to another. One day, he'd tell Rhys why. Until then, Rhys would let the two of them play cat and mouse.
Mating situations were not something others should get involved in.
Trystan looked indignant, but Rhys knew it was an act. It was confirmed as he spied Trystan's eyes immediately going to Amanda as they neared the circle. Both of them smiled. Amanda with a soul-deep longing and sadness, Trystan with confusion, fear, and desire.
Thinking of his own mating, knowing how each feeling, each craving, was magnified, his smile faded. The pain of not having her by his side, in his arms, in his bed, was near unbearable. But he'd endure.
He had no choice.
Rhys nodded to the guards who would remain at the camp while the rest of the clan went on the run. They had wards, and they were solid. Bowen was good at what he did. But Rhys couldn't leave their home without warriors to defend it. They could never become complacent.
He looked around at his pack. It'd been a while since he'd allowed them all to go on a run at the same time. They needed this, especially with the moon gaining strength. With that thought, Kenna came to mind again. He ruthlessly pushed thoughts of her to the background. He had to focus on his pack right now.
They needed him more than ever.
Rhys lifted his voice to cut through the chatter around him, drawing all attention. “May Cernunnos bless our hunt this night, and may the moon shine down favor upon us!”
“To the hunt!”
Voices and fists lifted, the clan cheered. Shouts and laughter could be heard as they shifted to their wolf forms and took off into the bayou, their animals exuberant and happy at being freed for something other than war. Trystan and Rhys took their animal forms as well.
Trystan's wolf nodded to Rhys', then rounded up the stragglers, urging them into the wild that surrounded them. Rhys followed.
The feel of the water and land under his feet as he ran, the warm breeze ruffling his fur, the bright moonlight feeding him strength, all of it soothed his aching soul as nothing but Makenna could. As her face flitted across his mind, he halted, lifting to the moon and giving a mournful wail. The rest of the back stilled around him. Their looks of pity and understanding, though meant to show support, nettled him.
They didn't truly understand. They thought he mourned not having his mate, not knowing the pain in his cry was due to the fact they were already bonded yet he was still alone.
A few nudged into his side or licked his fur, showing their love and loyalty, wishing to soothe their Alpha’s pain.
Nothing could soothe him, save his Kenna.
Needing relief from prying eyes and not wanting to taint the others' joy in the hunt, Rhys bumped into Trystan and jerked his head toward the pack. Trystan's eyes flashed human, then he nodded once.
He'd watch over the pack while his Alpha found what solace he could.
Rhys took off in the opposite direction, his pace slower, weighed down by the agony in his heart, the hunger in his soul. He chased after a muskrat, then a beaver, eventually letting both go their way. The contentment he normally found in the hunt eluded him. Giving up the pursuit, he roamed the bog, taking in the sounds of the bayou at night. Eventually, he found a dry spot near a fallen log, bathed in the moon's glow, and plopped down.
As he absorbed the light, he pondered his situation. His people depended on him, and they deserved a leader who was whole, strong, and focused. For the past few days, that hadn't been him.
Had it only been four days since he'd met his destiny? It seemed much more. Four days, and the mate he'd only intended to claim in order to take his throne, the one who was supposed to be the final blow to their enemy, his queen in name and nothing more, had wormed her way into his heart. He'd assumed he'd be attracted to her physically. That he would want her more than any other.
Rhys had never imagined the lust that would facilitate their mating would grow into something beyond his control. A twisting, burning, gouging craving that ate him alive from the inside out.
He wanted her for her, not simply because it was fated. Not because it was decreed by a prophet or the ancients before them who had devised a way to always find one another. This was love, separate from any outside force. It was about a female who had become everything to him.
A female he'd give his life for, give up his throne and everything he possessed to have by his side.
That thought scared him more than losing to Kylian. More than his people falling to the evil bent on destroying them. It wasn't sane. It wasn't what he'd planned. Yet there it was.
It'd taken all he had to leave her under the watch of two of his warriors while he returned home to see to his pack. If Rhys was being honest, his motives weren't kingly. Being near her and not being able to touch her was too much. He'd put distance between them to ease his own pain.
Only it'd made things so much worse.
Rhys shifted back to his human form, thankful once again their magic allowed them to shift and leave their clothing and weapons intact. He pulled his phone from his jeans pocket and pulled up her number. Staring at her picture he’d snapped while she slept, he traced the strong, yet delicate lines of her face.
The last time he'd seen Makenna that face had been twisted with betrayal, hurt, and fear. Because of him. Because he doubted she was being truthful. The more he thought about it, the more he understood why. It would be so much easier on him, on her, if she already knew and was hiding it from him. Then he wouldn't have to go through the agony of destroying her entire vision of the world, the identity she'd known her whole life.
The last thing he'd wanted was to cause her pain, but by not coming out with it when she'd given him the opening, he'd done more damage than he could imagine. Now she'd doubt everything he said. It would take longer for her to come to terms with who she was, what she was destined to do. Not to mention, he may have pushed her away for good.
Yet he still couldn't release that sliver of doubt. Because of who she was, because of who her family was, he couldn't bring himself to completely trust her. Not yet. A twinge of guilt speared his conscience, and he shoved it away. He squared his shoulders.
He was the fucking king. He had a clan to protect. He couldn't afford to trust without proof.
That included his own mate.
Despite the competing forces within him, the clashing needs, he knew what he had to do. Determined to find out the truth of what she knew, he made the call. There was no time left. He'd have her at his side, and they would win this war once and for all. They'd save their people.
Even if he had to drag her kicking and screaming the entire way.
A small voice whispered to watch himself. That once her power was realized, she could destroy him. He ignored it. He was the. Fucking. King. No female would change that.
Not even Makenna.
After two rings, she picked up. “Hey, it's Makenna.” His pulse picked up speed at her voice, then crashed as it continued. “If it's important, leave a message. If not, leave me alone.”
He clicked off. What he had to say couldn't be done over a message. He'd wanted to arrange a meeting, but obviously she was avoiding him.
Rhys sighed and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He'd keep trying. After the run, he'd go to her. Talk to her. Make her understand. Then he'd bring her home.
Shifting back to his wolf form, he started back for camp. He cleared a fallen tree, then skidded to a halt, sliding in the mud und
er his paws.
A scent. Sweet and spicy. Mixed with the smells of the swamp, he still detected it with unerring accuracy. He'd know that scent anywhere.
Makenna.
That wasn't possible. Why would she be here? Unless...
Growling, Rhys took off at a hard run, following the aroma on the wind.
His soul and his wolf knew nothing but the desire to be near his mate. His human side knew better. There was only one answer. Only one reason she'd be here.
She knew damn well who she was, and she'd played him.
As her scent grew stronger, so did those of his pack mates. The hair on his neck stood on end, and he stopped to sniff the air. No enemy scents, nothing unfamiliar. She was alone. Yet he couldn't let her near his pack. Not until he knew for sure.
Despite his doubt, the closer he got to his mate, the more settled he felt. His strength returned. He shook out his body, enjoying the sensation. He couldn't let that sway him, though.
Mate or not, she was a liar.
Taking off again, he rounded a thicket and ground to a halt. Crouching low, he crawled around a group of trees. The pack was off to his left, barely visible in a small clearing. The wind had changed direction, and they couldn't scent Rhys or Makenna.
He needed to keep it that way.
Topping a small hill, he stopped. There she was. But she wasn't armed. Her magic glowed around her, but not in preparation for battle. Her wolf was attempting to shift, though she didn't appear to be in pain. Instead, she seemed entranced. Her dark beauty drew him, his soul calming in her presence. Eyes wide, head tilted to the side, she stared at the moon.
Wait, not the moon.
The pack. She was watching the pack as they lounged after their hunt, eating and tussling.
Rhys crawled closer, but protecting the pack was suddenly not the most important thing to him. Hunger. Raw, untamed, and uncontrollable. It consumed him and his wolf.
Hunger for his mate. The yearning to touch her, be near her.
Now only about twenty feet from her, he had enough presence of mind to keep himself concealed. She hadn't reacted to his presence yet.
Sleeper (Rise of the Fianna Book 1) Page 16
