Charlie tried to follow his gaze, to see what he was concentrating on – were there other people there? Who had flown the chopper? Who had shot out the tires? But Gabriel had her too tight. When she tried to turn her head, one of his hands came up to encircle her neck. It was a warning that required no words.
She went still in his grasp and tried to think. She knew one thing for certain. She knew that Malcolm Cole was nearby. Even if Gabriel had not credited the motorcycle to Cole as he’d hauled her into the adjoining garage and forced her into his car, she would have known.
The blood in her body confirmed it. It was humming to life with something like hope. She could sense him as surely as some peoples’ bodies could tell them that it was going to rain. The promising sensation managed to dull most of the unpleasant fear that had invaded her body and mind. Even the pain that Gabriel now caused because he was touching her was muted compared to the certainty she felt that her mate would not allow her to come to any more harm.
My mate? she thought, bewildered. Where had that come from?
She didn’t have the time to consider her own thoughts for much longer however, because Gabriel was suddenly swearing again and the warlock was spinning around in place as a giant black wolf bounded toward them at a speed so unbelievably, impossibly fast that it seemed to actually blur the edges of his fur around him.
Charlie was thrust to the ground and hit the grass just as another one of those strange flashes went off around her. She rolled over to find herself staring at two massive wolves – one black, one white – locked in mortal, terrifying combat.
The sounds they were making were inexplicable.
Charlie had heard cats fight before. She’d seen them rip into each other in the alley behind their apartment in Pittsburgh. She’d always gone out into the alley to try to break them up because the sound was so awful. It was like children being tortured to death. This was worse. These weren’t cats. They weren’t even dogs. They were full-grown, larger-than-life wolves, all fang and claw and deep, reverberating growl that seemed, at once, louder than a Harley’s engine and meaner than the Hell’s Angel atop it.
Charlie found herself backing away from the scene, her eyes as wide as saucers in her face.
“How does it feel to know you’ve been marked as bait for one of those animals?”
Charlie froze in place. The voice sounded from directly behind her. If she’d taken another step back, she’d have run into him.
The warlock laughed low and she knew that he was shaking his head.
“One of them will die and you’ll be stuck with the other,” he continued, his tone still soft and low and laced with a menace palpable enough that she could almost taste it. “Set to be collared and leashed and rutted on until you get pregnant with his puppies,” he told her.
She whirled on him, her heart hammering.
His red eyes glowed hellishly. He smiled – flashing fangs.
My God…what the hell are you? she thought, frantically. Her breathing quickened and her pulse began to race. She knew he wasn’t a werewolf. She knew it in her blood.
But he clearly wasn’t human. She’d been right about that.
He came forward then and, as if he were some gentleman out of a historical romance novel, he offered her his hand. She glanced down at it and hastily took a step back.
He cocked his head to one side, his red eyes flashing. “I can take you away from all of this, Claire.”
He’s going to kill me, she thought.
“I will not kill you,” he promised, speaking expertly around his razor sharp fangs. “I give you my word.”
“Get the fuck away from her warlock,” a deep voice growled.
Seth glanced to the right and just before Jessie Graves would have slammed head-long into him, he spoke a simple archaic word.
And disappeared.
* * * *
The fire trucks and ambulances were too close, his resources said. The authorities would be upon the scene in minutes. Apparently, humans along the street had already ventured out of their homes – and slipped back inside, terrified and confused at what they had seen.
No fewer than twenty 911 calls had been put in, and Kavanagh felt he could safely say this incident would go down as one of the worst exposures in werewolf history. But, as bad as it was, it was not one that couldn’t be dealt with. He had the world’s best magic users working for him. And he had connections in every government agency known – and unknown – to man.
It wasn’t the possible exposure that had Kavanagh on a private plane, headed for Las Vegas at that moment. It wasn’t the damage to the golf course or the media mess or the pay-offs he would have to make that were truly bothering him.
It was the fact that his granddaughter was right smack in the middle of it all.
When Jessie had informed him that Gabriel Phelan, also known as David Reese, was the rogue leader of the Hunters, Kavanagh’s heart had fallen into his stomach, cold and heavy as a lump of coal. For a human to be a Hunter was bad enough. They were skilled fighters, hell bent on the utter destruction of the werewolf race.
But their zealousness was misdirected and mistaken and could often be written off as a form of insanity; they likened werewolves to demons and honestly believed them to be such. In the end, a human could sometimes be forgiven for their ignorance.
But a werewolf? A Hunter? And not only a Hunter – the leader of the Hunters? What kind of sick son of a bitch was Phelan? And what would he do with Claire… with his little Charlie?
Kavanagh felt another nauseating wave of apprehension roll through him. He was surrounded by an aura of disquiet, anxiety and concern. Most of all, he was wrapped in anger. He had loved his son very much.
And Gabriel Phelan had killed him.
Kavanagh’s gaze narrowed now as he turned to stare out the airplane window at the blue horizon beyond.
* * * *
Cole knew that Gabriel Phelan was a good fighter in human form. But in wolf form, he was subject to the same laws of nature that every other werewolf was held to. All that mattered was size and strength and determination.
And right now, despite the fact that Cole had already been injured by another werewolf, the two wolves were matched on all but one of those qualities.
Phelan wanted Charlie. That much was patently clear. But Cole wanted her more. And there was enough hatred and needed revenge running through Malcolm’s bloodstream at that moment to fuel an entire German army. So, when a slip in Phelan’s defenses finally presented itself and afforded Cole an opportunity that anyone else would have missed, Malcolm took it.
He brought his claws up toward Phelan’s underside and attempted to dig in, but Phelan sensed his intention and twisted, allowing Cole’s teeth to rip completely through his flesh in exchange for the freedom it afforded the white wolf. Phelan pulled away and backed up, the snowy fur of his left shoulder covered in rivulets of dark red blood.
Cole growled, exposing his blood-soaked fangs.
Phelan flashed back into human form.
When he did this, Cole was temporarily blinded. He skittered back on his paws, shaking his head to clear it. By the time he focused on Phelan again, it was to find that the man was holding a gun on Charlie.
Where he’d gotten the gun, Cole had no clue. He must have had it on him before he’d flashed into wolf form. Perhaps tucked into the back of his pants. It didn’t matter.
Cole flashed back into human form himself and glanced at Charlie. She was looking from Phelan to Cole to a black man who was standing a few feet away from her. The stranger’s scent was human. But his amber eyes were glowing, and he was sporting fangs.
Cole was overwhelmed with a plethora of different emotions at that moment. Confusion was high on the list, but higher still was anger. Highest was fear. Of everyone in this fray, Charlie was the only one who could be killed with whatever bullets Phelan had in that gun.
And the Hunter knew it. In the hand that gripped the gun, Gabriel Phelan held all of th
e cards.
“I’ll take the chopper, gentleman,” he said, calmly. “Turn around and get down on the ground.” Blood welled in the wound on his shoulder, and Cole could smell it. It matched the wound that Cole bore in his own shoulder. But Phelan paid it no heed and his expression did not reveal that he was in any kind of pain. He simply looked angry, calculative, and determined.
Cole and the stranger hesitated in following Phelan’s orders. Gabriel cocked his gun. Charlie closed her eyes, holding her breath.
As one, Malcolm and the stranger turned around, lowering themselves to their knees in the grass. Immediately, Cole could hear Phelan run by them, heading in the direction of the helicopter that had touched down on the green beyond the nearest row of houses.
He hadn’t taken Charlie. He must have thought she would put up too much of a fight to chance keeping her in the chopper. Maybe he had other reasons. Whatever they were, Cole had never felt so relieved in his life.
And then Charlie was releasing the breath she held and sinking to the ground along with them.
* * * *
Jessie crawled to Charlie and attempted to pull her into his arms. But she yanked away and stared up at him, her eyes wide, her jaw slack.
He knew that his eyes were glowing. He knew his fangs had been visible since he’d appeared. With a concentrated effort, he made them recede and tampered the fire behind his eyes. This was the moment of truth. There was nothing else to hide behind.
“Jessie, my God,” she whispered, her words trailing off under the weight of the shock she was undoubtedly feeling. “Jessie… are… are you….”
Jessie stared at her and shook his head. He felt such deep regret in that moment, it chewed at his insides like a rabid dog mauling a bone. “Oh, baby girl,” he spoke softly, raising his right hand to gently brush his fingers along her cheek bone.
To her great credit and his tremendous relief, she didn’t pull away. She stayed where she was, gazing up at him in wonder. As an alpha werewolf, his touch would bring Charlie pain, but as a Sentinel, it would not bring her nearly as much as the touch of another alpha. She undoubtedly registered these shocking facts along with all of the others. But despite the plethora of surprises slamming her, there was also something blessedly familiar behind the blue of her eyes. It was trust. It was still there.
That he couldn’t turn back time and explain everything to her sooner was yet another regret he could chalk up to this horrendous week and its pitiable luck. She deserved better. “I’m so sorry, Charlie.”
“You sound like me,” she said, softly.
He blinked, taken aback by her sudden lick of humor. She smiled a gentle, tired smile, and it echoed the weariness in her shadowed, blue eyes.
“Come here.” He pulled her into his arms then and, this time she let him. As he did, he looked over her shoulder to find Malcolm Cole watching him steadily. He’d witnessed the entire exchange and by the expression on Cole’s face, it was clear that the alpha was torn between wanting Charlie to have whatever comfort she could glean at that moment even if it came from Jessie – and wanting to rip Jessie’s throat out.
Jessie nodded once at the man and then slowly pulled away. A helicopter buzzed loudly overhead and then drifted away, the sound of its blades overshadowed by the wailing of the sirens attached to the emergency vehicles that were now coming around the corner several blocks down the street. “I think it’s time we go somewhere more private. And safe.”
“Agreed,” Cole said, simply.
Charlie looked up at him and then at Jessie. She took the hand Jessie offered and stood.
“We have to run, Charlie.”
“Fine,” she said.
Jessie nodded and Cole led the way into the alley between two nearby houses. They came out on the green on the other side and then sprinted across the golf course, toward the taxi-laden streets beyond.
Chapter Fourteen, The King
“How is she?”
Lily softly closed the door behind her and looked up at Malcolm. She took a deep breath and looked away, clearly contemplating her answer before replying. Malcolm’s jaw tensed. His gaze hardened as he waited.
“She’s actually doing quite well,” she finally said. “She isn’t a werewolf… yet.” A sharp glance at Cole. “So, she can’t hear us if we talk softly. Besides, she’s taking a shower right now.” She gestured for the others to follow her into the adjoining room and then took a seat at one of the plush leather sofas.
Malcolm entered behind her, and James Valentine, Lucas Caige, and Jakob Samson joined them. They all took seats, Caige looking somewhat uncomfortable with the relaxed setting.
“St.James is a very tough girl. As I’m sure you’ve already figured out,” Lily began again. “She’s been to Hell and back and seems to have come out relatively unscathed. At least, physically. Mentally, she’s tired. She’s exhausted actually, and perhaps a bit numb. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I’ve even experienced it myself.” She slowly shrugged. “If my feelings about her are right, it’s something she’ll get over.” Lily paused and frowned. “I explained as much as I could, with the exception of a few special things that I think you should explain to her yourself, Cole.”
At this, she landed Cole with a piercing, meaningful gaze and he knew she was speaking of the mating ritual and everything that would happen directly afterward.
“She was also very happy to learn that her band mates were alive. You can’t imagine the relief she showed when I told her that no one at all had died in the hotel. She was especially relieved for the children.”
Malcolm thought about that. He wasn’t at all surprised. He could imagine that when the hotel had exploded, Charlie had been terrified on too many levels to count. And anyone with a heart would have been concerned about any kids caught in the blast.
He nodded, and then he changed the subject. “What did she say about this guy – Jessie?” It was something he’d wanted to ask ever since the man had shown up out of the blue on the golf course next to Phelan’s house and taken Charlie into his arms. He had smelled human, but was so obviously not. So, what was he? And more importantly, what did he mean to Charlie?
“His name is Jessie Graves. He’s the band’s attorney and Charlie’s best friend; has been for a while. She told me that hugging him had hurt, but not nearly as much as touching Phelan or his men. She ignored the small amount of pain because she needed to hold him anyway,” Lily told them.
Cole considered that. It meant the man was a werewolf. But…. “He smelled human.”
“Yes, I know.” Lily nodded. “But he also had glowing eyes and fangs, apparently.” She raised her eyebrows, and Cole sighed. “And she told me that he managed to basically vanish when Caige showed up with the ride after you three escaped the police outside of the Silverstone golf course. She said he told her that he had to go and that he would explain everything later. Next, he was apparently disappearing back down an alley.” She shifted on the couch and glanced at each of them in turn. “Am I right?”
“Yep,” Caige said with a nod. “I saw him help Claire into the car and then run down the nearest gap between two rows of houses. He smelled human to me too. But I gotta admit,” he half-smiled and reclined into the deep cushions, “he was moving pretty fast.”
Again, Lily nodded. “I think he was a Sentinel.”
Now James nodded as well. “I agree. It would explain everything. It makes perfect sense.”
“How so?” Jake asked.
“Claire St.James is a female-born. She’s also a Dormant. And her parents were killed by Hunters. She’s probably dead-center in the Council’s sites. I can imagine that they would have vested interest in protecting her,” James explained.
“Hell of a job they’ve done so far,” Caige muttered, lacing his fingers in front of him and resting them across his hard stomach. “Like you said, Kane. She’s been to Hell and back. Was that part of their plan?”
Lily shot him a weary look. “Of course not, but she’s aliv
e. And you have to admit that the Council was more successful at reaching her in The August than you were. One of their witches was responsible for taking down the territory spell.”
To that, Caige had nothing to say. He appeared vaguely uncomfortable for a moment and then looked away. Malcolm knew the man wasn’t fond of magic users. A warlock had killed Lucas’s brother many years ago in Australia.
Caige hadn’t been at The August in time to meet Dannai the witch, but all the same, it probably irritated him to no end that the werewolf community had had to resort to such means to defeat Gabriel Phelan.
Malcolm also had nothing to say. Mostly, because it also irritated the hell out of him. He didn’t care about the witch one way or another, but Charlie wore his mark. She was his to protect. And he’d failed her.
“Don’t let it bother you too much Cole,” Lily continued, as if able to read his mind. “I think they pulled out the big guns because she means more to the Council than what she’s worth as a walking puppy mill.”
James rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair as if to say, “Here we go again.” Lily ignored him and continued. “I think she’s got family or friends in high places.”
“Why would you think that?” Jake asked.
She looked at the blond werewolf and cocked her head to one side. “Because the Overseer is on his way here right now.”
Malcolm blinked, as did everyone else in the room. At first, he wondered how she knew this, but then he remembered. “You had a vision.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” she admitted, meeting his gaze. “While Claire and I were talking, I saw Mr. Kavanagh standing right here in this room. Speaking with your intended mate.”
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