by Tanith Frost
I glance back to find a familiar, scarred face snarling down at me.
Before I can even think of defending myself against Silas, the other wolf attacks again. Bright blood is flowing in a slow stream down the fur of his belly, but my key didn’t do much damage. If anything, I think I angered him more. He leaps, launching himself so high that he’s coming down on me. I take a defensive position, determined to not be knocked off my feet.
I manage to stay up and push back, ripping fistfuls of hair from his coat as I do. My keys clatter to the ground.
Shit.
He snaps at my shoulder. I bring my arm up so he bites down on the sleeve of my jacket, and instead of trying to pull away I push it hard into the back of his jaws. The pressure is incredible, but he’s off-balance, and he can’t get the leverage he needs to hurt me. I shove hard, and he’s off me again.
Silas lets out a growl that rumbles loud and long from deep in his chest. The wolf looks up and snarls back at him. Silas launches himself—not at me, but at the wolf. They tumble away, buying me some space, and I bend to grab my keys.
The space between the Jeep and the wall is a blur of fur and blood. Someone’s snarls turn to screams as I wipe the blood from my makeshift weapon and unlock the door.
Claws scramble against the concrete floor behind me, and I turn to see Silas’ broad form blocking the approach of any other wolves. His sides are heaving as he takes deep breaths, and every exhalation carries a deep warning growl.
The others have fallen silent, but they’re not leaving, either.
Silas glances back over his shoulder. His muzzle is red with blood, and his coat is splattered with it. I can’t tell whether any of it is his. He nods to the door, motioning for me to go in.
“I am,” I say, and open the door. He looks back to the other wolves, who have their teeth bared at him. He seems ready to hold them off for as long as he needs to.
Fuck it. I can’t leave him to get ripped apart after he gave me room to escape.
“Are you coming?” I ask.
He backs up without looking at me, hackles raised as he keeps up his thunderous rumbling. I step through the door and hold it open for him. A moment later we’re both in, and I slam the door shut and throw the deadbolt.
Loud thuds ring through the corridor as the wolves throw themselves at the door.
I brace myself in case Silas is planning to attack. Maybe there’s a price on my head, and he wants the prize for himself. But he’s calming himself now. He’s still breathing hard, but his head is held low. Slowly, the hair along his back settles. He’s still an impossibly large animal, but less threatening now. Or he would be if not for the blood all over him.
I consciously relax my tense muscles, but it’s far more difficult to calm my brain. It’s churning with confusion, gratitude, and thoughts about what this means. Whether it changes anything, or whether this is another trick. I’m as off-balance now as I was when I was fighting, and I hate it.
“Who were they?” I ask. I want my voice to be steady, but there’s a tremble to it. They had me trapped. I might have been able to fight them off and get in here on my own.
I might not have.
He looks up at me and tilts his head slightly to one side.
Right. He can’t talk like this, and he’s not going to change here, in front of me.
I sigh and open the heavy door to the common room. “I guess you deserve a shower after that, and a chance to rest. Unless you want to go back out there.”
He snorts, then lets out a hacking cough like a dog that’s just eaten too much grass.
“Are you hurt?”
He shakes his head from side to side. It’s an awkward motion, like he’d rather be communicating in another language.
“Good. Come on.”
I need time to think about what just happened, to calm myself and decide what I need to ask him, what I need to do next. I lead him through the common room, and he takes a good look around, lifting his head, sniffing the air. He doesn’t try to stop, though, and walks beside me down the corridor to the first bathroom. I push the door open. It looks like the one I use, but emptier. I’ve stayed in cheap hotels that were better stocked than this place, but there’s a half-used soap bar beside the sink and a small, thin towel on the shelf. Paul either took everything he had in here, or he never used anything else.
At least it looks clean, even if the mirror over the sink is cracked.
“I guess… you want me to turn the shower on, or are you going to change?”
Silas nods at the door, clearly ordering me out. He’s surprisingly good at communicating like this.
“Enjoy.” I hesitate and turn back. “I um… I don’t think I’m going to be able to find clothes to fit you. Paul’s room is locked. Unless you want to wear something of mine?”
I think the mental image of Silas squeezing his brawny ass into my yoga pants is hilarious, but he growls softly.
“Fine. I’ll find you a quilt or something.”
I close the door behind me. I want to give him his privacy, so I move away from the bathroom to the nearby linen closet. I choose the only clean bedding on the shelf, a comforter with tacky pink roses on it that looks like it’s been sitting there since the seventies.
As I pass by the bathroom to drop it off, the sound of low, pained groaning drifts from beneath the door, only half-disguised by the roar of the shower.
Chapter Sixteen
I’m feeling more relaxed by the time I hear the bathroom door open. I’ve taken my jacket off and hung it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. It’s warm in here, and I’m fine in just my black tank top and jeans. I’ve just put coffee on—my coffee maker, not the piece of crap that was here when I arrived. The rich scent of it fills the room, mingling with the crisp smell of white bar soap that wafts on humid waves from the direction of the dormitory corridor.
I smile to myself as I hear Silas approach. “You have a terrible habit of showing up for conversations soaking wet.”
I turn, and any further comments die on my lips.
He’s dried himself as well as anyone could with the single towel, and his hair is a mass of damp tangles falling over his eyes and curling around his ears. A soaked strand releases a slow trickle of water over the front of one broad, sculpted shoulder. I watch as it trails lower, over his chest, through the dark hair that covers the sharply defined muscles in a fine layer. No pretty-boy gym rat, this one. His muscles are all function, all natural. His body suits him. Even the scars that cross his chest, fainter than the ones on his face and neck.
He clears his throat, and I force my gaze back to his face before I can make it down to the floral blanket he’s wrapped around his hips. I thought it would look silly, bring him down a peg or two, but he’s rocking it like a fucking kilt.
Asshole.
“Coffee?”
He nods.
“We don’t keep milk around here.”
“Black is fine.”
He turns away to look at the books on the shelves, and I don’t avert my gaze in time to miss the sculpted shape of his back or the way the hard muscles move under his golden skin as he turns and stretches. I’m suddenly feeling tense and knotted up myself, in need of some slow stretches in interesting positions.
Maybe some cardio. Something to burn up all of this tension and wild energy left over from the fight.
I grit my teeth and pour the coffee. I shouldn’t be thinking about him that way. It’s not his fault I’m lonely, that I’m riding high on power from a fight, that I haven’t got laid in a while, or that he looks literally good enough to take a bite of. Silas is the enemy.
Or I thought he was until just a few minutes ago.
I close my eyes to shut him out, but I can still sense his power. It lingers on him, stronger than I’ve felt it before, like it’s reluctant to hide itself so soon after the change.
The note in my book was right. This is the core of why our kinds hate each other so much. My power is anathem
a to his. Opposite, maybe equal, even if my kind keeps his under our dark, cold heels. We repel each other, but there’s something attractive about it, too.
Seductive, even, when I open my eyes and reconcile my perception of that strange power with the image of the man who possesses it.
But I can handle this. No problem.
I offer him the cup, and he accepts with a grateful lift of his eyebrows, closing his eyes as he takes a long sip of the burning hot liquid.
“Amazing,” he says, and smiles as he lowers the mug.
I know I should jump into questions about the wolves while I have him here. He seems open, relaxed, and more receptive than any time I’ve spoken to him before. I can’t trust it, though. He seemed okay last time, and then he stole the keys—another thing I need to confront him about before the air is clear between us.
Uncertainty flashes across his features, like he’s expecting questions he doesn’t want to answer.
“Thank you,” I say, and sip my own coffee. I’d rather have blood to refuel me, but this is good. “You saved my ass out there.”
His eyes widen in mock surprise. “Did… did a vampire just admit she needed help? From me?”
I smile. “I guess so. If I were alive you’d probably have given me a heart attack when you jumped up on the Jeep. I thought you were going to join in on the attack. I couldn’t have held both of you off.”
It’s hard to admit that. Staying here on my own was a stupid idea. I really didn’t expect them to come after me like that, though I should have. It’s easy to forget that my power has its limits, and to cling to the optimistic human belief that things will turn out fine in the end.
Silas looks away. “I made that good an impression on you, did I?”
I shrug and move to the sofa, where I sit at one end, leaving plenty of space for him. I don’t set my mug down. It’s keeping my hands occupied. “Let’s see. You tried to piss on my car the first time I saw you. You went out of your way to come down and threaten me the first time we actually met. And then when I thought we might be getting along, understanding each other just a little bit, you distract me and steal the keys to the door that protects me from them.”
I gesture toward the window. The curtains are drawn, but the wolves are still making their presence known, howling at the not-quite-full moon. Or maybe at me.
He lowers his head, and his hair falls over his eyes. “It wasn’t personal,” he says quietly. He takes a long breath that draws my attention back to his chest. Not a tease this time, or a distraction. He looks at me, frowning in a way that’s more confused than angry. “Someone told me after we met that you seemed different. But I couldn’t know that before. And even after, I couldn’t trust the person who told me. By then it was too late, anyway.”
“Who?”
A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. “Obviously I don’t want to say, or I would have.”
“What did they say? This mysterious no one?”
“That you were like the other vampires, though not exactly. That you asked questions instead of demanding answers. That you seemed to feel something.” He shrugs, and the scars on his chest flex. “That doesn’t make you trustworthy, but it was something.”
“Was that before or after you took my keys?”
“Spare keys. Not yours. It’s not like I reached into your pocket and took them.” He pauses. “It was before that. After our unpleasant series of introductions.”
“So you took advantage of the possibility that I was nice? An easy mark?” My tone is casual, non-accusatory. He doesn’t think like me, and I’m curious about what that means. I’m not going to be hurt by his answer, whatever it is.
He sits on the other end of the couch, legs stretched out in front of him. “Kind of. I just—” He pauses and stares down into his coffee. “I’m not used to explaining myself. Not since I left Joseph’s pack.”
I don’t answer. I’m not going to let him off the hook.
“It’s good, in a way. Being in charge. Not answering to anyone but myself. But it’s a lot of responsibility. Keeping my pack safe, keeping them as happy as they can be about having to come here. Offering them the freedom I can while not letting them get away with anything that could hurt the pack.” He picks at the edge of his blanket, then smooths the fabric. “Standing between them and the vampires. We know our place. Know why we’re here, though we’ve never personally done anything to deserve it. Even our ancestors were mostly innocent, you know.” He glances at me. “Never killed a person on this island. But the humans were crazy. Lost a bit of livestock, feared for their children. Put a bounty on wolf pelts.”
He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it. “Anyway, it is what it is. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t piss us off to be trapped, to be forbidden to go where we want, hunt where we want. We don’t want anything to do with this place. Just having to sign in and out is an insult. It makes us feel like convicts on parole, not free creatures obeying rules so we won’t be killed.”
“I can see that,” I say. “We have a lot of rules in our clan, too. Things that keep our world secret, keep the people we feed on safe. But some vampires think it’s wrong. That we should be free.”
Silas lets out a harsh laugh. “I’d say your freedom would be a hell of a lot more dangerous than mine.” He searches my eyes, curious. “You need living blood, right? That’s why you go to the village. To feed.”
“Yeah. It’s not just for fun.” I hold up my mug like I’m proposing a toast. “Blood and coffee is about it for me, and caffeine only gets you so far.”
He takes another sip of his drink. I watch him, waiting for him to continue, not wanting to push.
This isn’t an interrogation.
“One of the things about being the pack’s alpha is that I’m responsible for their safety,” he says. “It’s hard when they leave to go to their real homes. I can’t keep an eye on them when they’re away. When they’re here, I do my best. But sometimes they get hurt.” He looks around the room, then back toward the door to the corridor. “But if I bring them in here, that’s it. The vampires take over. They might talk to us, let us know what’s going on. They might not. Alphas don’t get visiting rights. Once or twice, when they weren’t injured too badly to change, I’ve had them shift to human form so they could go to the hospital. We’re not supposed to. It’s not as much of a risk as if your sort went to the doctor, but…”
“I get it,” I tell him. I don’t think most doctors and nurses would feel the power clinging to him, but there’s something not human about his eyes. Something sharper and brighter than it should be. Something a person like Susannah would spot in an instant. “So you risk being found out because it’s better than not knowing what’s happening to them in here? If you were caught…”
He nods. “I know the risks. But I’ve got responsibilities, too. And not every vampire we deal with has a kind streak.”
We’re silent for a minute, listening to the wolves outside. They seem to be moving farther from the building.
“So that’s why you took the keys?” I ask. “So you could rescue them if need be? A safety net in case you had to bring someone in like Irene did with Violet?”
“I kind of hoped you wouldn’t notice they were gone. I hid them well, I swear. No one knows I have them.”
I look him over again. His head is hung low, but when he turns to look at me, there’s nothing apologetic in his expression. He straightens up, stretching his shoulders back again.
He twists so his body is facing me. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I played nice to do it. It really wasn’t horrible talking to you.”
“Likewise, I guess.”
Something devilish flashes in his eyes. “You’re not the worst corpse I’ve interacted with.”
“Yeah. Well, maybe you’re not such a bad dog after all.”
He chuckles. It’s almost too quick to notice, but I think he looks down, taking me in again, sizing me up. Maybe not as an enemy.
&nb
sp; I take it as license to do the same, to let him see me looking. He smiles slowly, not seeming at all repulsed by a vampire’s attention.
“Who are the wolves out there?” I ask, needing something else to focus on.
The humour leaves his face. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Like you can’t tell me who killed those people.”
“That I don’t know. Believe me or don’t, that’s my answer.”
“Are the ones who attacked me yours?”
He swallows down the rest of his coffee. “Not anymore. A few were. The turncoats left a few days ago when things looked better elsewhere.”
I give him a hard look. “There are only three packs, and I doubt they went to join the females. You really can’t say anything? I thought you didn’t answer to anyone but yourself.”
At least he looks apologetic now. “Blood runs even deeper than pack ties. I have loyalties I won’t sever over disagreements.”
I sink back into the sofa. “I see.”
“Do you really?”
“No.”
He smiles at that, just a little. Something like pity flickers across his rugged features. Or sympathy, maybe.
“We have loyalty among my kind,” I explain. I don’t think there’s any harm in him knowing this, and I want to keep him talking. Besides, conversation is nice after weeks of hardly any interaction with anyone but Paul and stock. “We have deep loyalty to our clan. But it’s not like what you have. In a case like this, where it would be better for the clan if the culprit were outed, we wouldn’t think twice about it, especially if it would get us ahead. It’s not a personal loyalty.”
I’m ashamed to say that, and ashamed of feeling ashamed. I am a vampire, and this is how it is. We are strong. We don’t have to lean on anyone. We hold Maelstrom up on our individual strength, and we take care of ourselves. It’s something to be proud of.
But in the face of this werewolf and his bullheaded care for his pack, it seems a cold and vacant comfort.
His brow furrows. “Doesn’t that get lonely?”
“Little bit.”
