by Tamara Hogan
Gabe’s Bat Phone rang. Plucking it from the holder attached to his waistband, he looked at the display. “It’s Lukas.”
He’d probably sensed the fight. Crap, he must be worried sick.
“What happened?” Ellenore asked as Gabe answered the phone. “How the hell did a fire start up here?”
Lorin looked over to the crew, busy with fire extinguishers, shovels, and sand. The fire was nearly out, and it was just a matter of time before Mike and Nathan picked up the scent of the vamp’s spilled blood if they hadn’t already. The vamp’s weapon, lying under the orange crate not two feet away, beat like Poe’s telltale heart.
She couldn’t tell them the truth, damn it. She couldn’t tell them a thing. “Gabe and I were running, started playing around, and I dropped the kerosene lamp,” she said. “Stupid of me, I know.”
As they watched Nathan and Mike finish putting out the fire, Gretchen looked around the site with a frown. “Where’s Paige? Off with her vamp?”
Lorin bit back hysterical laughter. Yeah, you could say that.
Gabe approached. “Gretchen, could you collect the empty fire extinguishers, make sure they get down to the workshop so they can be refilled?”
“Sure.”
He waited until Gretchen was out of hearing range. “Lukas wants us to collect what evidence we can, send pictures, and then call him once we get back to the cabin.” He sighed. “He isn’t happy with either of us.”
“Why?”
“He knew something was wrong, and neither of us answered our phones when he called.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Can he really discern shifts in emotional energy at such a distance?”
She nodded.
Gabe looked to the sky. “We don’t have a lot of time. Good job, everyone,” he called to the crew. “Let’s finish up here, then get back to the bunkhouse.”
They scurried to respond. Gabe’s lecture-hall tone had derailed additional questions—for now, anyway.
“I’m sure Paige’s fine,” he said, drawing her into his arms.
She hugged him back, as tightly as she could, knowing he was trying to convince himself as much as her.
Chapter 19
When Gabe dropped into a chair at the cabin’s small table a half hour later, he was struck by a distinct sense of déjà vu. Lorin paced, debating with Lukas via speakerphone, much like she had with Elliott the day he’d arrived at the dig.
Only this time, he wasn’t annoyed. He was stunned.
They were about to be shut down. He’d be going home. The writing was on the wall, and he had no idea what to do with this yawning hole in his stomach, deep as any quarry he’d ever explored. He’d counted on having the entire summer to ease Lorin into a relationship, to help her get over her skittishness, see that—
“Lorin, be reasonable,” Lukas snapped. “A student is missing. You can’t—”
“Do not tell me what I can’t do.” Lorin’s words were as crisp as hoarfrost. Being reamed out by Lukas for not answering her phone hadn’t exactly gotten the conversation off to a collegial start.
Elliot broke in. “Lorin, tell us exactly what happened.”
Gabe sighed, scrubbing his hands over his evening beard. Slouching in the ladder-backed chair, he gazed tiredly at the boxes he and Lorin had just lugged from the site, racing against the clock to gather as much evidence as they could before the thunderstorm boiling to the west washed everything away. After the crew left, they’d done their best in the dying light, taking pictures of the weapon, the spilled blood, and the burned grass in situ, and zapping everything to Lukas. He’d called back immediately to advise them how to collect the blood-soaked soil and burned grass for later analysis.
Outside, the thunder rolled, matching Lorin’s glowering expression as her long strides ate up the floor. Dirt smudged her knees, her hair was a snarled mess, and a nasty bruise was developing on her cheekbone. She sported a trio of weeping, angry burns, and a thin trail of blood had dried on her neck, where the vamp’s fang had nicked her.
She was glorious—and she was staring right at him.
“Were you planning on joining this conversation anytime soon?” she hissed before turning back to the phone. She took a deep breath. “Lukas, I don’t think mobilizing a team tonight would accomplish anything. It’s about to start pouring. Gabe was shifted, and even he lost their trail.”
“Gabe?”
“There wasn’t even a trail to follow,” he admitted to Elliott. “It just… disappeared, just like they did. Lorin’s right. There’s nothing anyone can do here tonight.” And he wanted this night with Lorin. “You might want to send an environmental impact team. The weapon fired a… stream of something rather than shooting projectiles. The stream burns to the touch. Analysis of the grass should give us an idea of whether it’s chemical, electrical—”
“Gabe got hit,” Lorin blurted.
He glared at her. “And Lorin has some contact burns, but we’re both okay.” Truth be told, his ear burned like a bitch. Both he and Lorin had put off first aid so they could gather samples and clean up the scene before the rain started.
Lukas swore. “Lorin, why are you wasting your breath arguing with me about shutting the place down?”
“Show me your injuries.” Elliott’s curt tone brooked no disobedience.
“Elliott—”
“Pictures or video. We’ll wait.”
Lorin sighed. “Hold on.” She approached the table, picked up his Bat Phone, and stepped closer. Raising the device to her eye, she aimed. Then hesitated.
“What?”
“Your hair,” she murmured. “A piece of your hair is stuck in your wound. Let me loosen it with a wet—”
He flicked it out of the way, ignoring the sting.
“Okay, that wasn’t necessary.” She snapped several pictures and extended the phone to him. “Take mine.” Their gazes snagged as he took it from her hand. Despite the argument she’d been having with Lukas—hell, maybe because of it—he read her edgy, lusty intent.
Of course. After the night’s events, her adrenaline and hormone levels must be off the charts. How fricking convenient for her that he was here. “Turn around,” he rumbled. Was that his voice? Where was this seething, helpless anger coming from? “Let me get the back of your neck.”
She turned around and flipped her messy ponytail out of the way, exposing her supple nape. The contact burn was circular, about an inch in diameter, nearly cauterized around the edges. Wincing, he raised the phone with a hand that shook. Valkyries were known to have a high pain tolerance, but Lorin’s must be off the charts. Did she even feel her injuries? If she did, he couldn’t tell.
“Guys?”
He started at the sound of Lukas’s voice. “Yeah?”
“Swab all your wounds after we hang up. Use gauze pads from the first aid kit, one pad per wound. Put each one in its own Ziploc bag and label it.”
“Okay.”
She shuddered a tiny tremble. She was so sensitive on the nape of her neck. He’d mapped it with his tongue, caressed every baby tendril that curled at her hairline, and now he’d have to make do without—
“Gabe.”
Lukas’s patience was apparently coming to an end. Stabilizing his hand, he took the damn pictures and sent them. “Incoming.”
“Thanks.” Lukas paused, then said, “Lorin, you know we have to shut the site down. You and Gabe were attacked, and a student is missing. You have to get those kids out of there until we figure out what happened to Paige Scott.”
Guilt roiled like a polluted river. A student was missing on his watch. Lukas was right, and Lorin knew it as well as he did. He saw it in her posture and body language as she stared out of the window.
“Lukas. It’s full dark here, and the sky is about to split open. Having the crewmembers hop in their cars and drive south in a thunderstorm is a lot more risky than them staying here tonight.”
She’d accepted Lukas’s decree.
“Most of these kids sublet th
eir apartments for the summer, or don’t have families in the area they can stay with until school starts again,” she continued. “We have to make sure everyone has a place to go.” A bolt of lightning cracked, punctuating her words. “We need until tomorrow, Lukas.”
She silently scrutinized him as Lukas and Elliott conferred in soft murmurs. “Okay,” Lukas finally responded. “We’ll mobilize a scene crew at first light.”
Being that he didn’t have his car here, he’d catch a ride home with Lukas tomorrow.
So that was that, then. They had tonight.
As Lukas instructed Lorin to put her clothing in a bag so they could process it for trace evidence, Gabe looked at the cabin that had become his home away from home: the stubborn stove. The chipped porcelain ladle used for dipping water from the pail. The picture she loathed still lying facedown on the bookshelf, now joined by a print he’d made of the shot he’d taken of Lorin and her mother that day in the lab. He wandered over to the bed, rumpled from their early morning lovemaking.
“So, we agree we’ll reassess this decision after you’ve analyzed the scene.”
“Yes.” Lukas’s response sounded like Lorin had pulled it from his throat with a pair of rusty pliers.
Gabe raised a brow. How had she managed that? How much of the conversation had he missed while he mooned like a lovesick pup?
“See you tomorrow, then.” She stabbed at the button to hang up. “Hell.” Crossing to the kitchen area, she snatched a box of Ziploc bags and a large paper sack off the open storage shelves, retrieved the first aid kit, and came over to the bed. “Can you open up some gauze pads?” she asked, handing him the first aid kit before shaking open the paper bag and setting it on the floor. “Crap. I really like this T-shirt, and I know I’ll never see it again.”
She peeled it off and dropped it in the bag, exposing her candy-colored bra.
A rumble of thunder shook the walls and floor, and spats of rain hit the roof. Gabe simply stared, savoring every second. Why had he taken their time together for granted?
“Gabe? What’s wrong?”
The work-rough fingertips she raised so tenderly to his cheekbone cleaved his chest in two. He sucked in a careful breath and schooled his expression. Turning away from her, he reached under the bed, extracting his duffel bag. “I should start packing.”
“What? Why?”
“The project’s been shut down, Lorin. You don’t need a PM anymore.”
Her throat slammed shut. Not need him? She still shook from watching that weapon nearly take his head off. She needed him like she needed her next pulse of blood, her next gasp of air. She grabbed his arm, whirling him back to face her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You don’t need me anymore.” A ghost of a smile tipped his lips. “You never really did.”
“So, this is just about work for you now?”
“No. It’s not. And that’s why I have to leave.” He barked out a humorless laugh as he dropped his duffel bag onto the bed. “Come on, Lorin. Did you really see this working for the long haul?”
“Yes.” The word popped out, no thought required. She loved him. He loved her. Didn’t he?
“The mutt and the Valkyrie Princess? People would kill themselves laughing.”
Relief wobbled her knees. The problem was insecurity, not that he didn’t love her. “Freyja, don’t scare me like that,” she muttered, pushing him onto the bed and sitting down beside him. “Gabe, who are all these ‘people’ you keep talking about? The only person other than Krispin Woolf who’s expressed the slightest reservation about our relationship is you. This ‘mutt and princess’ thing is all in your head.” She met his eyes. “Isn’t it what we feel that’s important?”
“Lorin, I don’t know how you feel from one minute to the next.” He sighed, reaching for her hand before snatching it back. “You’re like… quicksand. I need some solid ground under my feet.”
He needed the words. He… deserved them. Andi was right—it was time to find her gonads.
I can do this.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Lorin, it’s okay—”
“No. It damn well isn’t,” she snapped. His resigned expression just… slayed her. He was so ready to sublimate his own needs, to make her comfortable despite his own discomfort. “Just… give me a second here.”
“Okay.”
The wisp of amusement in his voice calmed her slightly. Freyja, she was such an emotional basket case. It was amazing he wasn’t running for the hills. She breathed deeply, in and out, stilling her body like she did before fighting with Lukas, who’d wipe the floor with her ass on sheer principle if he thought she was fighting one whit below her full abilities.
I can do this.
She cradled his face in her hands, taking care to avoid his ear—the ear that had been burned when he’d dived into the fray, blind, to protect her. She might not need physical protection very often, but it meant everything that he’d offered it.
She swallowed heavily. “I love you. I love you, Gabe.” In for a penny, in for a pound. “Will you be my bondmate?”
He stilled. Didn’t answer.
Shit, wolves mated for life. Why had she assumed that he’d want to—
“Yes.” His lips latched on to hers in a clinging kiss, a kiss that made countless promises. “Yes. Sorry,” he murmured against her mouth. “I thought that tonight was our last night together. A proposal was the last thing I expected.”
“Why?” That damn inferiority complex again. She’d spend a lifetime pushing him to expect more—and kill herself making sure she provided it.
“Did you mean it? Are you serious?”
“Yes.” She whapped his shoulder with her fist. “Did you mean it?”
“What?”
“That night at my place. You asked me to be your mate. Did you mean it?”
He stilled, eyes widening. Ruddy color swept over his cheekbones. “I thought I’d dreamed that.”
“Nope. You said it, and then you fell asleep.” She raised a forefinger. “Correction—we both came like gangbusters, and then you fell asleep.”
He dropped his forehead onto his fingertips. “Classy.”
“Hot,” she corrected, pulling his hand away from his face. “It—you—were so freaking hot.”
Whatever he saw in her face, or heard in her voice, must have reassured him. “Yes, I meant it. Then and now.”
She lifted a hand to his red and oozing ear. “I’ve never been as scared as I was when that vamp shot at you.”
“How do you think I felt seeing you with a gun held to your head? And Jesus, you didn’t look scared at all,” he marveled. “You were… steel. Capable. Tough. Absolutely magnificent.” He drifted his lips along her jawline. “Can we not talk about that right now? I really need to make love with my bondmate.”
His bondmate. She swallowed, hard. With his “yes”—with a single word—they were bondmates. She’d asked, he’d answered. A done deal, an oral contract between the two of them.
I have a bondmate.
She waited for the panic to crash down, for the hyperventilating to start. But it… didn’t. She felt certain. Strong. Ready to step into the cage and take on all comers.
Ready to take him, over and over again.
She pushed him onto the pillows, tugging on the hem of his T-shirt as Gabe dealt with the button at his waistband. As he sucked in his stomach to better deal with the zipper, his abs rippled.
She knew what the end result of thousands of crunches looked like. “You’ve been working out.” Lowering her head, she licked in admiration. “Why—”
A knock at the door.
Gabe dropped his hands to his sides with a sigh. “Already being interrupted by the kids.”
A snort of laughter escaped. “Don’t move.” Tugging his discarded T-shirt over her head while she walked, she opened the door to Mike, who quickly ducked inside to get out of the rain. He carried Paige’s tote bag.
> Ah, damn.
“Hey. I found this in the gazebo—oh, sorry. Hi.” He waved at Gabe, now sitting on the bed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Hi, Mike. No worries.”
“Paige left this up at the site,” Mike said. “I didn’t want it to get rained on.”
“Oh. Um, thanks.” An uncomfortable silence fell. What else could she say? She couldn’t explain Paige’s disappearance to herself, much less give Mike the reassurance he so clearly needed. “Why don’t you bring it to the bunkhouse, put it on her bed?” Where it would lay, unclaimed, until Paige returned.
If she returned. What were they going to do when tomorrow morning came, and Paige’s big bed hadn’t been slept in?
Mike plucked Paige’s tiny block-out sunglasses out of a side compartment and held them up. “She takes this bag with her everywhere she goes. Why did she leave it behind today?” He eyed them. “You both have oozing wounds. Lorin’s been fighting; her knuckles are scuffed, and she’s going to have a hell of a bruise on her cheek. Someone—vamp—bled up there, I fucking smelled it.” He glanced at the cardboard boxes stacked against the wall. “I smell it now. Don’t insult my intelligence.”
Damn Elliott’s decree. If she said a single thing, gave Mike even a single explanation to help ease his mind, he’d work the edges, prying the lid off their shoddy story with the crowbar of his intelligence.
“So that’s it? Really?” Mike snapped. “One more thing you can’t talk about?”
“Mike…” Lorin raised a tentative hand—to comfort? To apologize? She had no earthly idea.
Mike jerked away. “You two enjoy your evening.” The cabin door closed behind him with an accusing snap, and his footsteps hammered against the wooden deck as he strode into the pounding rain.
“I hate this!” she yelled to the ceiling.
“I know.” Wrapping his arms around her from behind, Gabe rested his chin on her shoulder. “I know.”
She wanted to pace off her frustration, to punch something—hard and repeatedly—but leaned back against him instead. “Where did that vamp come from? He knew too much about what was going on here—more than even Paige knew.” She turned in his arms. “A beacon? What’s he talking about? Why does he seem to know more about what’s going on here than we do?”
