by Aline Hunter
Delicious.
A firm hand wrapped around the back of her neck, followed by Jackson’s authoritative reprimand, “You listen to me. Stop. Right now.”
This time the force inside of her fought the compulsion. She started to snarl, prepared to yank away from his hold. Something she didn’t recognize slammed into her, burning as liquid fire seemed to travel from Jackson’s hand into her body. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her neck and his voice changed, a low growl that commanded obedience.
“I said stop.”
Holy shit.
Jackson let his beast reach out, calling on his power as an Alpha, forcing his mate to back down. He knew without a shadow of a doubt Chloe would be able to shift. Her wolf was too powerful to be contained. Even now it fought him, wanting to remain in control, to take over the human portion of his female.
Damn it to hell.
He should have waited to bring her home until he knew exactly what he was dealing with. He hadn’t expected her to react this way. Her wolf was determined to protect him from her own family if necessary. In wolves the behavior was expected. No one—friend, family or otherwise—came between mates. Attempting to do so resulted in dire consequences.
“Stop,” he repeated, trying to use as little influence as necessary. If he wasn’t careful he could make the situation worse. He gave Chloe a firm shake, his wolf snarling at its female, demanding her submission.
He knew the precise moment her wolf subsided, the prickles of energy fading as Chloe’s human half took over. He caught her before she fell, lifting her in his arms. Until the full moon, when she officially claimed her beast, she didn’t have the strength necessary to call on the feral portion of her.
He looked up, eyes narrowed. Her grandparents stood together on the porch, looks of horror on their faces. “You knew this was coming,” he said, livid that the ignorant humans had kept his female from those she needed most. “You should have warned her—you should have prepared her.”
“You should come inside,” Abigail informed him, bringing a hand to her throat, fingers playing at the collar of her shirt. “I assume there are things you’d like to discuss.”
Hell yes there were things he’d like to discuss.
Lots of fucking things.
Jackson hiked his chin, eyes on the gun in the man’s hands. “I suggest you put that away.”
Fletcher’s eyes drifted to his hands. He gave a pained nod, lowered the weapon and turned to walk into the house with his wife. Jackson almost felt sorry for him, noting how defeated the man looked. Something bad had happened to this family. Something in the past continued to haunt their lives.
A growl crept up his throat. He had a good idea who was responsible.
Gavin fucking Worthington.
He nodded at Abigail as he strode past her into the home. The house was old but tidy, everything in its proper place. He spotted a couch and walked to the furniture. Chloe didn’t protest when he laid her down, sighing as he rested her head on one of the hand-stitched pillows at the end. She was tired but she’d recover. If he wanted to speak to Fletcher he had to do it while she was out. The clock was ticking.
He rose and looked at Chloe’s grandmother. “She’s fine. Don’t worry.” Turning his attention to the man who was propping his gun behind the door, he said, “If you want to talk, now’s the time.”
Fletcher sighed, rubbing a wrinkled hand over his face. “This way.”
With a final glance at Chloe, Jackson followed the man as he left the room. Pictures adorned the walls, most of them of Chloe from infancy to adulthood. A couple of the pictures were of another young woman—with dark hair, a happy smile and bright blue eyes. She was a mixture of Fletcher and Abigail, taking on her father’s darker coloring and her mother’s eye color.
Chloe’s mother.
Fletcher opened a door to the right, stepped inside and moved to the wall to allow Jackson to enter. The office was as clean as the rest of the house, the large desk across from him free of dust. Fletcher closed the door and waved at the chairs in front of the desk as he walked around it.
“Take a seat.”
Although Jackson preferred to stand, he sank into the chair. “What do you know about Chloe’s father?”
“Aside from the fact he’s like you? Not much,” Fletcher remarked with a bitter laugh. “I only met the bastard once, after he showed up here to break things off with my daughter.” He lifted his head, eyes full of pain. “He killed her, you know. She didn’t want to live without him. She wasted way to nothing after Chloe was born.”
A warning chimed in Jackson’s head. “Wasted away?”
“It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. She just…” Fletcher lowered his gaze, shaking his head. “After she had Chloe she stopped caring. The doctors did all they could but you can’t make person want to live.” In an instant the man became hostile, snapping his head up. “I won’t let you do the same thing to my granddaughter. I won’t watch you destroy her like her father destroyed my Sylvie.”
Jackson knew the sadistic smile he gave the old man was menacing but he couldn’t contain his contempt. In human form, it was difficult to bare his fangs. Instead he displayed his teeth in a manner that revealed his anger. If given the chance, he’d tear the man who’d deserted his mate apart, piece by bloody piece.
No one would hurt Chloe. He wouldn’t allow it.
“I’m nothing like Chloe’s father.” He decided to level with Fletcher. The man had balls of steel. “You knew what her father was, didn’t you? You knew he wasn’t human.”
Fletcher nodded. “I knew.”
“And you didn’t think you should tell Chloe? Don’t you think she had the right to know who she is and where she comes from?”
Jackson had to fight for control, furious at what might have happened if his mate hadn’t started the process of dreamsharing. Without her other half to guide her through the transition she could have gone mad. One of the Alphas in the area would have had to put her down. With the recent media attention and fear of their kind, no pack would be willing to take on the responsibility of a crazed Halfling.
“Don’t act so high and mighty.” Fletcher didn’t back down. “I took necessary precautions.” When Jackson arched a brow Fletcher said, “It’s amazing how much information folks are willing to share if you throw a little money around. I knew what we were dealing with. There was a good chance she wouldn’t inherit the trait.”
“But she did inherit the trait,” Jackson growled. “It’s a damn good thing she found me. Otherwise she’d put everyone around her in danger. She’s already feeling the changes.”
“Let’s cut to the chase.” Fletcher reclined in his chair and Jackson could feel tension electrifying the air. “You brought Chloe home and you didn’t cut and run. That tells me there’s some honor in you. I want to know what your intentions are. Are you going to do the right thing? Or do you plan to amuse yourself by using her until someone else comes along and tickles your fancy?”
He moved before he was aware, hands slamming on the desk as he leaned toward Fletcher. “Careful, old man.”
“You don’t scare me.” Fletcher didn’t break eye contact and no fear accompanied the statement. “That young woman out there means more to me than anything. If you honestly believe I’m going to back down from the likes of you, you have another think coming. Answer my question. Why are you here? What do you want with my granddaughter?”
“Chloe is my mate,” Jackson stated, putting the fact out in the open. “I intend to claim her as such before my pack.”
“So you’re going to marry her?” Fletcher asked quietly. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. What’s mine, I keep,” he answered and stood. “And make no mistake, she’s mine.”
“You say that likes she’s—” Fletcher caught himself, realizing his mistake.
“What? An animal?” He couldn’t help but snort. Leave it to a human to put things
into simple categories—man or beast.
“She’s not a belonging. You don’t own her.”
“No more than she owns me.” When Fletcher frowned, Jackson smiled. “It’s safe to say your grandchild has me wrapped around her little finger. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”
“You’re too old for her, you know,” Fletcher grumbled, scrubbing his hand across the back of his neck. “Hell, you’re probably older than me.”
He decided not to clarify or share his age. Yes, he was a helluva lot older than the man but providing that information wouldn’t do either of them any favors. Right now they were on common ground.
“Relationships aren’t always perfect.”
“She’s going to live forever, isn’t she?” The strength in the aging human faded, leaving him a worn out old human who had more years behind him than ahead. “She’s like you now.”
“Not yet, but she will be.”
Fletcher mulled over his words. “And you’re going to care for her? You’re going to do everything in your power to make her happy?”
“You have my word.”
Jackson heard Chloe in the other room talking softly to her grandmother. The floor creaked, indicating she was rising from the couch. He knew he had to hurry. There was one positive thing coming from all of this, one thing Gavin Worthington couldn’t have anticipated.
“Did the male who got your daughter pregnant know she was expecting? Did he leave her in your care knowing she was carrying his child?”
“Of course he did,” Fletcher huffed, cheeks flushing red in anger, back to his former fighting self. “I don’t think he would have come here if Sylvie hadn’t pushed the issue. Apparently he didn’t want her coming to see him anymore. He came here to tell her to stop.”
Just like that, everything changed.
Gavin had given his child over to another male to raise and protect. If Fletcher accepted Jackson’s union with Chloe, no one could stand in the way of their mating.
“One more question,” Jackson said, grinning as he heard Chloe’s approaching footsteps. “If you came face-to-face with him again, what would you do?”
“The same thing I did the first time.” Fletcher graced Jackson with a grin of his own, one that promised retribution. “Shoot his worthless ass.”
Chapter Six
Everything was so freaking surreal.
Chloe released a soft sigh, shoving the last of her clothing into her bag.
First she’d woken from a weird stupor on the couch. She didn’t know how she’d gotten there, although she remembered bits and pieces of being carried inside. When she’d gone in search of Jackson she’d gotten another surprise.
He and Gramps were actually being civil to each other.
She’d stepped inside the office braced for war and found two men talking amicably, without a gun in sight.
It should have been an omen of positive things to come, a ray of sunshine breaking through treacherous clouds. She could finally ask the questions she’d always wanted answers to and learn things about herself she’d always wanted to know. She’d gotten a few snippets of knowledge, learning her father was in fact a werewolf and that he’d abandoned her mother early in her pregnancy. It had seemed like things were taking an upswing when she settled into the chair in grandfather’s office, the men in her life getting along famously, providing her their undivided attention.
Then, out of the blue, Rachel had shown up.
When she’d stormed inside the office and saw Chloe sitting beside an enormous werewolf whose hand rested possessively on her thigh a look of betrayal and hurt flashed across her face. Chloe knew how bad it looked. She’d called Rachel in a panic, unable to tell her anything about the night before, only to have her friend find her safe and unharmed at home. It was then Chloe knew her questions would have to wait. If she wanted to salvage the one friendship she’d relied on her entire life, it was time to start sucking up.
Too bad Rachel wasn’t in a forgiving mood.
As soon as they’d made it to Chloe’s room Rachel let it fly. Chloe listened as her friend vented, knowing how it felt when a person needed an outlet. When she learned Rachel had traveled to The Wolf’s Den looking for her, she couldn’t mask a sympathetic wince.
Rachel didn’t like things she didn’t understand—especially things that had the ability to shift forms and kill people. It was the primary interest the friends didn’t have in common. Chloe didn’t say a word as she finished packing her things, aware she wasn’t going to be able to avoid a confrontation forever. At least all of her eggs were finally in one basket. No more unexpected or unwelcome surprises.
“You should have called me or at least answered your phone,” Rachel repeated, voice heated. “I went looking for you! I could have become a Scooby snack.”
“I didn’t have a chance,” she finally said, zipping her bag closed. “I planned on calling you as soon as I got home.”
“Your new boyfriend wouldn’t have anything to do with the loss of brain cells, would he?” Rachel snapped. “You couldn’t pry yourself away from him for five minutes to tell me you were okay? Don’t you think I deserved that much? You said you were in deep shit, Chloe! I was scared to death.”
“Believe it or not I wasn’t thinking about you at the time.” She knew it sounded cold but she and Rachel had always been honest with each other. “I wanted you to tell Gram and Gramps I was okay so they wouldn’t worry. In case it’s slipped your notice, I’m dealing with some crazy shit right now.”
“Believe me, I noticed. It’s kind of impossible not to when you bring a werewolf home. What are you thinking? You know how dangerous they are.” Rachel lowered her voice. Anger marred the beauty of her face. “He could hurt you and your family. You’ve seen the news. You know what they’re capable of.”
“Yes, I’ve seen the news.” She whipped around, facing Rachel. “News that’s brought to the public by humans, with human interests, who don’t trust the paranormal things they discriminate against. Jackson would never hurt any of us. You don’t know him, Rach.”
“You don’t know him either,” Rachel shot back. “You just met the guy.”
“You’re wrong.”
There was a part of her that knew Jackson better than she knew anyone else. The connection between them was so strong she knew precisely where he was in the house—exactly where she’d left him at the foot of the stairs—as though she could feel him somehow. In fact, she was anxious to leave the room and return to him, craving his scent and closeness. He replaced anxiety with calm, eradicating the doubts that plagued her.
Rachel plopped her hands on her slim hips. “One night with a werewolf and you’ve decided to go to bat for the other team? Is that it?”
I am the other team.
One thought provided clarity and a dizzying amount of relief. What Jackson had told her was true. The mark on her wrist wasn’t a coincidence. Her father had passed his genes—his werewolf genes—to her. Like a key opening a lock to the unknown, her future and what it held seemed limitless. There was no room for fear, only acceptance and a small spark of excitement. There was so much she would be able to do, so many things she’d be able to learn. And she’d learn them with a sexy-as-sin man who set her blood on fire.
Holy wow.
The simple thought made her skin prickle with heat, anticipation pumping through her system. The night before had been an appetizer. She wanted to touch him, tease him and taste him. There were no limits. Jackson wasn’t a blushing violet. He wanted her open, honest and raw. There wouldn’t be any secrets. Only two people exploring everything together.
For a moment she imagined his fingers darting over her throat, her flesh tingling at the remembrance of his caress. Tonight he’d touch her again. He’d expose her to his gaze, eyes combing over her in lust, and she’d let him.
Elation and desire turned to sadness when she met Rachel’s gaze.
How did she explain that she’d always been different? She just hadn�
��t known how different until now.
“What if I told you I was meant to find Jackson?” she asked slowly, attempting to broach the topic in a way Rachel wouldn’t feel threatened by. “What if I said our meeting wasn’t accidental?”
“I’d say you’ve been reading too many Paranormal Junkies magazines and romance novels.”
“I’m serious.”
Rachel drummed her fingers over her hipbones and tossed her long, red-hued hair over her shoulder. “I’d want to know where you’re getting your information from. FYI, a palm reader with a crystal ball doesn’t count.”
“My father,” Chloe blurted, knowing she had to be honest. “It’s all because of him.”
“Whoa. Back up.” Rachel lowered her hands, confusion etched on her face, no longer on the offensive. “How did the topic go from Jackson to your father?”
“My father isn’t human.”
“Hello, I know that. We’ve had this discussion.” Rachel rolled her eyes as though she could communicate her agitation to the good lord above. “He’s an asshole you’re better off without.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
There was no going back. Once Rachel knew the truth she could take it or leave it. The walls seemed to close in as Chloe took a deep breath, afraid of the ramifications of sharing the news, knowing she didn’t have any other choice.
Stop delaying the inevitable.
Resigned, she exhaled softly and said, “My father isn’t human. He’s a werewolf.”
“He’s a what?” Rachel hoped like hell her ears were deceiving her. Chloe had to be making a funny. A really stupid fucking funny. She didn’t appreciate the attempt at bad humor.
“You heard me.” Chloe tucked a couple of unruly curls behind her ear, a nervous habit Rachel had become accustomed to. “Don’t parrot.”
Don’t parrot. A regular phrase the two used that seemed so out of place.
“Why are you only telling me this now?” Rachel grappled for words. “How could you keep something like that from me?”
