by Michele Hauf
“No, not this. You’re not going to succumb to Miles’s flame.”
Plunging to his side, she touched his face. His skin was too hot, but he hadn’t been burned there. His body reacted to the damage by bringing up a fever. Even with his healing capabilities, he’d never defeat the burns.
“I’m not going to lose you now. You mean too much to me, you big lug.”
Pressing her hands over the angry flesh on his stomach she closed her eyes and began to chant. She called on the ancient powers that had been instilled in her bloodline throughout the ages. Her mother had been a powerful witch, master of all elements, as had her grandmother. The power to heal was simply about connecting to the body and mastering it.
Murmuring the Latin incantation that would open her to Ridge’s suffering, Abigail’s muscles tensed as she took on his pain. The flames had begun to course through his system. She just needed to cleanse him of the fire.
With a command to the elements, she called upon her water magic. Snow blew in through the window and, clouding above their heads, turned to rain to douse her smoking werewolf. It startled him awake and he clutched her wrist, but she kept her hands firmly on his body. She could feel the cooling waters loosen in her belly, and knew it was doing the same to him.
“Abi—”
Squaring her palms over his abdomen, she began to hum rhythmically, which enhanced her magic and focused her concentration. Ridge’s body jerked. His hand grasped for her, but clutched only air.
“Let my spirit heal you,” she said. “Take my magic into your soul, Richard Addison.”
She felt the burn soften beneath her palms, and pulled them away to watch the skin revert from an angry red welt to pale flesh. The scar she’d given him in Vegas remained. He must wear it as her mark.
“So mote it be,” she said. “I love you, Ridge.”
Chapter 22
From the three vehicles parked in front of the property, Abigail selected the Mustang because it was the only one that hadn’t been reduced to a crispy critter. Before she got behind the driver’s seat, she pulled out the keys and opened the trunk.
She was on his wavelength, Ridge realized, as she pulled out a duffel and tossed it at him. He caught it and found inside a change of clothing that belonged to one of the wolves who had attacked him. He quickly dressed in the frigid air, pulling on dark jeans that fit and a heavy blue wool sweater, wondering all the while how the hell Miles had managed to get the wolves to do his dirty work.
“Can a witch control a werewolf?” he asked as he tossed the duffel and took the keys from Abigail. He was in better shape to drive than she.
“Miles bewitched them. It’s another spell.” She shivered and scampered around to the passenger side and got in the car. She wasn’t wearing a coat and her pants were torn up to the thigh and one sleeve torn off the shoulder.
Ridge pulled her into a hug and rubbed his hand up her arms and back. “I think you saved my life in there.”
“It was a little burn. You would have been fine. I just helped you heal faster.”
Maybe. But he’d felt the burn all the way to his insides. Much like the burn he’d taken in Vegas, only more insistent. He had been close enough to the pearly gates to consider knocking.
“Witches and their magic always seem to go for my gut,” he muttered, rubbing his belly.
“I knew you’d come for me,” she said and hugged him tightly.
“I only wish I could have protected you.”
“You protected what was most important to me. Where is Ryan?”
“Safe with Maverick at the compound. I’ll take you there right now to get him.”
They’d driven in silence for a few minutes before Ridge could no longer stop himself from slamming his fist into the dashboard. The plastic cracked and the radio stopped playing.
“What?” Abigail asked, rousing from a near sleep.
“I failed you,” he said. “I wasn’t there to protect you.”
“What are you saying? You saved me.”
“Not until the last minute. If I had been a few minutes slower…”
“It wasn’t like with Persia, Ridge.”
She hit him directly in the heart with that statement. The witch’s aim was always spot-on. “Miles was this close to doing you damage.”
“He didn’t have the complete spell. He would have never succeeded.”
“And if I hadn’t been there he may have killed you instead.”
“Exactly. But you were there.” She stroked his arm, but the soft touch only illuminated their differences. He was too rough, too wrong, too not right for her. How dare he think he had a right into her life?
“We’ll talk about it later,” she said on a sigh. “I want to hold Ryan in my arms.”
“About Ryan,” he said, as he pulled down the road leading to the compound. The winter sun flashed off the rearview mirror and made him wince. “Miles is not his father.”
“Please, let’s not start this again.”
“Abigail, five minutes after I got Ryan out of the cell Miles had been keeping him in, he shifted.”
She shot him an open-mouthed gape.
Ridge pulled the car into the drive before the compound, and before he could explain further, Ryan came running out to meet them.
“He’s mine,” Ridge said, bowing his head and closing his eyes. “The boy is mine.”
* * *
Abigail’s head spun with the revelation Ridge had laid upon her, but she hadn’t time to react before Ryan opened the car door and she got out to catch her son in a hug. He felt taller, and his hair was long and hung in his eyes, and she realized it felt like years since she’d held him like this.
Tears streamed from her face when Ryan’s eyes met hers. “Mom, I missed you.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ridge stride by, gripping his wounded shoulder. His eyes followed hers, and they weren’t happy, but almost condemning. He’s mine.
It had been a relief to learn the truth, yet at the same time, mentally, it brought her to her knees. She’d deprived Ridge of his son for twelve years. Probably he could never forgive her for that.
“Mom! You’ll never guess what happened to me.”
“Can we talk about it at home, sweetie? I’m so tired. I want to take you home and hold you until you tell me to stop it.”
“Oh sure, but I have to say it. I’m a werewolf!”
“Ridge told me.”
“I can’t believe it. It’s so freakin’ cool!”
“I’m sorry, Ryan, I didn’t know. Well, I knew there was the smallest chance.”
Ryan caught her as she stumbled. “It’s okay, Mom. I know sometimes we don’t know everything. You’re right, we have a lot to talk about. Let’s get you home. You don’t look so good.”
Had her twelve-year-old boy just said that? He’d grown up so much.
She dusted the hair from his eyes. “Are you okay? What with everything that’s happened?”
“I’m fine, Mom. Thanks to Ridge.” Ryan turned and looked for the man he’d mentioned.
Ridge stood at the compound door alongside Dean Maverick. Battered and bruised, the noble warrior had sacrificed much tonight. He looked like hell. He also looked as though he’d like to write the two of them out of his memory forever.
“We both owe him more than he can ever imagine,” Abigail said, threading her hand through Ryan’s. “Can we talk tomorrow?” she called out to Ridge. “I want to get Ryan home and, well, we both might need some distance.”
The stoic wolf merely nodded.
“I’ll drive you home,” Maverick offered. “All three of you have been through heck.”
Chapter 23
Two days later
Ridge pulled the repaired truck in front of Abigail’s house and put it in Park, letting it idle. He fingered the divorce papers lying on the seat beside him. After what she’d said about needing some distance from him, his hopes had been vanquished. He had stayed at the compound for two days, p
acing, staring at the telephone, wondering if he should call her.
She hadn’t called him.
It wasn’t meant to be. Sure, they were his family. Ryan was his flesh and blood. But Abigail was tied to him only because of some flimsy piece of paper. He wouldn’t do that to her. Wouldn’t use a tired old convention to argue his point. She was a woman who needed her freedom.
He wanted—needed—a woman who could embrace togetherness.
He didn’t want to walk up the sidewalk and climb the steps to knock on the door. He didn’t want to look into her gorgeous blue eyes one more time, knowing he’d have to turn and walk away. The papers signed. His life cut loose from any ties to Abigail Rowan.
Maybe she’d change her mind?
He shook his head and banged it against the back of the seat. He wasn’t stupid. A woman like her didn’t need a man. She’d made that clear.
Opening the door and grabbing the papers, he also snatched a pen he kept propped in the empty cigarette lighter.
It was a beautiful day. The sun shone across the snow, giving the yards a diamond twinkle. The temperature neared the thirties, and he’d driven past a local park boasting a hill crowded with sledders bundled in bright snowsuits.
He wondered if Ryan liked to sled down hills in the wintertime, and then couldn’t decide if the boy was too old for that. A guy should never be too old for having fun. Would Abigail let him take Ryan on the weekends so he could get to know him better?
He needed that. The boy needed to be with others of his breed, to learn and grow into the strong werewolf he was meant to be.
No regrets, Addison. Chin up, and get on with it.
Before he mounted the shoveled steps, the front door opened, and Abigail propped a shoulder against the door frame. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
“That it is.” Her tone was light, which gave him some hope. But then she had reason for a good mood now that Ryan was safe.
Dressed all in soft pink from the cashmere sweater that emphasized her full breasts to the soft pink suede pants—even to her pink toenails—the woman was a dream Ridge could taste on his tongue. But this tough old wolf wasn’t meant to realize his dreams.
The papers in his hand crinkled, reminding him he’d come with a purpose. He thrust them toward her, extending the pen, as well.
She took them without comment and began to sign.
Ridge’s heart stopped beating. His mouth went dry. She was signing the papers. Just like that.
No argument.
No discussion.
No nothing.
She handed him the papers and pen.
He reluctantly took them, and when he gave her the wonky eye, she said, “It’s what you wanted.”
He nodded, not daring to speak because if he did his voice would falter and he’d probably go down on his knees before her to beg she give him one more chance.
“About Ryan,” she said.
“We could discuss it over the phone, if you’d prefer.”
“Oh. Yes. Sure. I’ve every intention of letting you see him as much as you like. He hasn’t stopped talking about you since we got home.”
“Thank you.” His heart cracked open and his chest tightened. He wanted more now. He wanted them both. He wanted…things that could never be his. But he wasn’t deserving.
“Thank you,” she said. “I owe you so much, Ridge. You’re a fine man.”
Enough with the platitudes. He stepped up and wrapped an arm around Abigail’s waist, drawing her body against his. He kissed her even as she began to speak. He wouldn’t allow protest. If he had to turn and walk away from the woman he loved, the very least he was owed was this kiss.
She beat a fist against his chest, and it felt as though she were pounding a silver stake through his soul. She didn’t want him. She didn’t want this kiss.
“Oh, Ridge.” And then she was grasping his coat and pulling him to her and kissing him deeply.
And he didn’t know how to read this moment, so he stopped trying. Just a kiss. That’s all it was.
A goodbye kiss.
He parted from her mouth, memorizing the shape of her lips, small against his, and soft and pink like her sweater. “Yeah, I suppose I should get going.”
She traced her lip with a finger and looked aside. “I need time, Ridge.”
He nodded, but words abandoned him.
* * *
He kissed her cheek and stepped back. He didn’t look over his shoulder as he turned to march down the sidewalk to his pickup truck that waited, idling, huffing out clouds of exhaust into the atmosphere.
Abigail sighed into the cold air but nothing about her felt cold as hot tears streamed down her cheeks, slipped into her mouth and down her chin. She’d done the right thing.
Right?
If they were really meant to be they would come together. When the time was right. But when would the time ever be right? Who was she to even know?
All her life any relationship she’d had had been crazy, obsessive and wrong. This one felt different. It had been different. It didn’t feel wrong. But she didn’t know what right felt like, either.
Hell, it had only been a few days. She couldn’t even call it a relationship. That way lay obsession.
The cold air bruised her lips and her arms where Ridge had touched her, icing them more quickly than any other part of her body. A cruel reminder of all she did not deserve.
“Mom?”
She sniffled, realizing Ryan stood behind her in the doorway. With a diesel rumble, the truck pulled away. Ridge did not look toward the house or wave.
“What, sweetie?”
“I can’t believe you’re letting a guy like that walk out of our lives.”
She smirked and wiped the tears from her face. “Me too.” She had yet to tell him Ridge was his father. Where to begin with that one?
“Then why?”
“Ryan, sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do. And maybe…” What was she saying? She sounded like a bitter, old woman. Maybe she was. She’d lived so long. Did she even know what was right anymore? “I don’t know. I think this is the right thing to do.”
“Yeah? I think you’re wrong.” Ryan touched her hand where tears wet the skin. “I didn’t think doing the right thing was supposed to make a person cry. If something is right, shouldn’t it make you happy?”
“It should.” It did. The past few days she’d spent with Ridge she had been desperate to find Ryan, and yet so calm and yes, even happy because being with Ridge had changed her heart. She had truly become the woman she needed to be, thanks to him. “But it’s over now. He’s gone.”
“You love him.”
“Ryan, you don’t know—”
“Listen, Mom, I don’t know what love is between a guy and a girl, but I know how it feels for a son to be loved by his mother. It feels great. Right here.” He pressed a hand over his chest. “I want you to be happy, Mom. I want you to feel this, too.”
“I am happy, now that you’re home and safe.”
“Go after him, Mom,” he insisted. “Ridge is a cool guy.”
“Oh, Ryan.” She closed the door and Ryan raced off into the kitchen.
He had grown up this winter. He’d become a smart, respectful young man. He’d become a werewolf. And she had no intention of ever sending him away again. It was time they began living their lives, and stopped running away or hiding.
Oh really? And yet, you let the best thing that ever happened to you walk away.
Yes, but that hadn’t been her running away, instead it was— No, the argument was stupid. Ridge Addison really was her best thing.
She wandered into the kitchen. “Ryan, what are you—”
“Mom.” He dangled the car keys between them. “Ridge Addison is the best thing that ever happened to the both of us.”
He used the same words she’d just been thinking. And Ridge had not been able to comprehend being anyone’s best thing. How could she let him continue to think such a thing whe
n it was true?
“The both of us,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the dangling keys. They flashed in the sunlight and she felt as if her son had touched her with a much-needed magic, which blossomed and began to glow in her heart.
“Yes,” she said slowly.
Why was she being so selfish? There were two of them in this little family. And as Ryan had said, they’d both been touched by Ridge.
She met her son’s blue eyes, speckled with little spots of brown—from his father. His smile grew and he nodded encouragingly toward the keys.
“Yes!” She grabbed the car keys and hooked an arm through Ryan’s arm. “Let’s go. He’s headed toward the county courthouse to file divorce papers.”
“Divorce papers?”
“It’s a long story, Ryan. I’ll explain it all on the way. Hurry!”
* * *
They lost the black pickup truck that should have been easy to follow because it was so big and audacious. Ryan directed Abigail right down a city street lined with light poles painted an old-fashioned red.
She’d spent the past ten minutes rambling through the whole story, that fateful night in Las Vegas, the marriage by Elvis and the reasons she never believed Ridge could be his father. So Ryan really had been born late. Better late than never was so good.
“Can you forgive me?” she asked, spinning the steering wheel and taking a right. “I never told you because I wasn’t sure.”
“I kinda figured it out already. I look a little like him, don’t you think?”
“You do. You have his strong nose and you’ll grow tall and powerful like he is. But you have more hair.”
He chuckled. “But I had no idea you two were married. And by Elvis? That’s so cool.”
“Yes, well, it won’t be cool for much longer.”
“Then drive faster, Mom. There! That’s the place!”
She pulled into a parking lot across the street from the county courthouse and scanned it for the big black truck.
“Out front!” Ryan pointed out Ridge’s truck, parked in front of the building. “Go! I’ll wait outside. Run, Mom!”
Leaning over to kiss Ryan on the head, she hugged him. “I love you, and your father.”
