In truth, Freya was right. But Claire was a smart woman. Liam didn’t need her figuring out what he was up to. Not yet. “You could’ve just texted with her, called her, maybe?”
“No. I need to talk to her face to face. Plus, she’s bringing me some of my things so I don’t have to wear zebra-striped pajamas made for an Amazon. Now be quiet and, most of all, be decent, or we’re going to have a real problem.”
She gripped the handle on the door and opened it before Liam had a chance to protest again.
* * * *
Claire breezed in, her face a mask of worry, and planted her hands on her hips, eyeing her best friend. “Before either of you say a word, let me just ask you this. What in the world were you two thinking? Freya, if you did this to get out of mating with Courtland, I’m going to kill you—”
“It was an accident, Claire.” Freya stopped her mid-rant. “We didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Claire’s eyes went wide with an astonished glow. “Really? How do you not mean to have sex with a vampire? And ‘oops, my nether parts fell on his’ isn’t an acceptable answer. If you did this because you think it was an easy out, you’re so wrong, Freya. After what Irish and I did, the council’s never going to go for this. They won’t believe you. Then they’ll make an example out of you and lock you up forever!”
Freya crossed her arms over her chest, the matching silk top to her pajamas billowing around her arms. “I was drugged.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Is that like ‘we fell asleep and nothing happened’?”
Liam crossed the room and chuckled. “Actually, it’s nothing like that. Your analogy is—”
Freya whipped up a finger to silence him. “Hush, Shakespeare. Let me explain. Please. You go make some coffee…er, blood. I dunno. Something. Go make something and let us talk. Alone.”
Liam lifted his chin, the arrogant tilt reminding her that he was none too pleased with her choice to invite Claire into this mess, but he stalked off to the kitchen.
Freya grabbed Claire by the hand and pulled her to the couch. “Sit. Listen to me. I’ll explain it all.”
Half an hour later, it was obvious Claire was making an effort to compose herself. “I don’t know what to say. How would you get ahold of something like Seventh Heaven? You don’t take drugs. Though, I wouldn’t blame you if you did after being called out as Courtland’s mate.”
She shrugged her shoulders and ran a hand through her messy hair. “I don’t know how it got into my system. Lachlan gave me a bottle of whiskey that night. Maybe it was him who slipped it to me? If you’ll recall, I was in no condition to make sound choices.”
“But why would Lachlan, the nicest bartender ever, drug you? That makes no sense at all. He has no grudge against you. This was malicious, Freya. It had to be. What other reason could there be for wanting you to end up in a vampire’s bed than malice?” She paused for a minute before her eyes went wide. “Jesus! What if the vampire hadn’t been Liam? What if it had been someone else who’d gotten their fangs into you, Freya? You could have been killed!”
Now she shuddered, hard and long. She’d been so busy thinking about poor Ethan and her guilt, she hadn’t given the reason behind the Seventh Heaven as much thought as was its due.
“I didn’t let myself go that far in my mind, I guess. It’s all been such a blur. Whoever gave the drug to me couldn’t have known Liam would be the one I ended up sleeping with. So that means…they just wanted me dead?” She heard her voice, full of fear, and she hated it. Who’d want her dead?
Claire’s face held sympathy. “Let’s not focus on the why, but the who. We need to think back on that night, Freya. Damn, it was all such a mess of me trying to keep you from doing something stupid—”
Freya’s snort cut her off. “Good job on that, friend. You’re fired.”
Claire ignored her dig. “You know, now that I look back, I kept wondering why you were affected so weirdly by the alcohol. You have a pretty good tolerance. And granted, you drank a lot, but you were just…off somehow. I can’t explain it, but this Seventh Heaven revelation makes complete sense in terms of your behavior.”
Freya rubbed the heel of her hand against her forehead. “I can’t remember much of anything from the bar. I just remember being in my house, and Liam and I…”
Claire tucked her hair behind her ear. “Right. The mating. So this drug really made you literally irresistible to Liam?”
Now the guilt of that night began. It might have made her irresistible to him, but by the time they were at her house, she knew what she was doing. She’d been aware of everything, though it was a vague awareness of right and wrong. Mostly, she hadn’t cared. She wasn’t clear on whether or not the drug took your caution and cast it to the wind, but she did remember not caring about the consequences.
“Yep. According to Liam, a vampire can’t resist it—especially on another person. It’s utterly impossible. Anyway, that’s how I was turned. And there’s nothing I can do about it. I didn’t do it on purpose. It just happened.”
Claire gripped her arm, her eyes full of apprehension. “Are you sure he didn’t do it on purpose? Are you sure he’s not just feeding you some story?”
She was. She definitely was. “I’m positive, Claire. To what end would he do that? He’s already in eyeball-deep shit with the Fangs. Why would he make things worse for himself by turning me?”
“Because he does stupid things, Freya? Like befriending your ex-pack leader. I mean, why would he hang around Courtland?”
“Because his sage advice is timeless and thought provoking?” Liam quipped from the kitchen doorway. “Look, I didn’t do this on purpose, Claire. I would never intentionally turn anyone. In all my years as a vampire, I’ve never harmed a soul. My profession was to heal. You can believe what you want, but that’s the truth of it.”
Freya fought a swoon. His conviction, his hard eyes and looming stance, made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth.
Claire flipped her hands upward. “Okay, fine. I have no choice but to take your word for it now. So Frey-um, what’s next?”
Liam frowned, jamming his hands into the pockets of his tight jeans. “Frey-um?”
“It’s our names in a mashup. You know, like Brangelina? Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie?” Freya shook her head. “Never mind. Tell me what happened after we left this morning.”
“All hell broke loose. I managed to keep them from tearing your door off the hinges and convince them I was as surprised as they were that you’d taken off. But it got pretty hairy. Courtland grilled me for an hour before Irish showed up and they almost came to blows. You know how Courtland can be.”
Freya squeezed her friend’s hand. “I’m sorry, Claire. I’m sorry you were put in that position because of my troubles.”
Claire tweaked a strand of Freya’s hair and smiled. “You didn’t think I was going to just let them come and railroad you for murder before I knew what happened, did you? You’re my best friend. Not on my watch.”
More guilt. So much guilt that she had a friend who was willing to stick beside her even when the preponderance of evidence was overwhelmingly not in her favor—and she wasn’t going to tell her about Ethan’s dog tag.
“But…”
“I know—but your jacket and scarf were found at the scene of the crime and you had blood all over those clothes on your floor last night. I don’t care. I don’t believe you’d kill anyone, Supermodel. So forget that notion. For now, I’ve managed to convince everyone I haven’t heard from you—which, in my opinion, only makes you look guiltier. But I had no choice.”
She gripped Claire’s hand tighter, fear constricting her throat. “What if I did do it? You saw what I looked like. You know what the change to vampire can do to you.”
Claire’s head shook with a vehement bob. “You didn’t do it, Freya. Drugging you proves that. But someone wants the pack to believe you did. Now we have to figure out who that someone is.”
Now Freya shook her head
. “No. We have nothing to figure out. You have to go home and take care of your family and protect yourself from any association you have with me. Just keep playing dumb, and it’ll be fine. Did you bring the burner phones so we can communicate?”
Claire popped open her purse and dropped two phones on the scarred chest that served as Liam’s coffee table. “Yep, and food for Clarence, and some clothes because even though I wanted you to clean up your sweat-suit act, I didn’t mean for you to go extreme animal print.” She pointed to the borrowed silk pajamas and laughed.
Freya rose, pulling Claire up with her and giving her a hug. “Go. Don’t come back. No more face-to-face visits, only texts, okay? I won’t have you in the middle of this shitstorm, and I don’t want Irish to be angry that you’re visiting the enemy.”
Claire gave her a squeeze before turning to Liam. “You do know you’re going to have to make an appearance in town from time to time, right? Courtland’s going to miss your budding friendship. Who will he slap on the back as he regales everyone with stories of his conquests, if not you?”
Liam’s eyes narrowed, but his lips remained firmly clamped shut in what Freya hoped was out of respect for her request he do so. But she had a feeling it had to do with something more.
Claire flicked his shoulder. “I’m serious, Liam. You have to keep up appearances. If you’re not at Ahab’s tonight to commiserate with him about his missing fiancée, if you stay hidden away, he’ll get suspicious. Both of you gone is no good.”
“I’m not leaving her here alone, Claire. She’s adjusting right now, and you know what that’s like firsthand.”
Freya put a hand on his chest to hush him. “What he’s really saying is he’s afraid to leave me alone because I go on killing sprees and come home covered in blood. And who could blame him?”
Liam took her hand and squeezed it, sending warmth through her limbs. “No, Freya, that’s not what I’m saying at all. What I’m saying is, I don’t want you to end up in another predicament where you could be in the wrong place at the wrong time and end up blamed for something you didn’t do.”
Claire lifted her chin, her gaze into Liam’s stare soul-searching. “So you believe she didn’t kill Ethan?”
Liam’s deep eyes captured Claire’s and held them. “I do.”
Claire stared at him for an uncomfortable amount of time before giving him a curt nod. “Good. As to leaving her alone, we can fix that by immobilizing her.”
Immobilizing me? Whoa now.
Liam threw his finger up in the air and nodded at Claire in understanding. “Right. The garlic-cross circle. Totally forgot about that.”
Freya frowned, rolling up the sleeves of her pajamas. “Hold on. The what?”
Liam’s low chuckle left her wary. “We leave you in a circle of garlic and crosses—maybe sprinkle some holy water in to seal the deal. You won’t be able to move from the circle because you’ll be too weak.”
Freya took a step back from them and their diabolical machinations and frowned at Claire. “Doesn’t it hurt? Because when you told me about what happened with Hadley’s best friend Sarah and that madman Angus and what he did to her that night in the Zone to keep her from getting away, you said Sarah was in agony.” She shivered, running her hands along her arms.
Claire pinched her cheek and giggled. “Only if you touch it. And Liam? You make sure you wear gloves to protect yourself.” She looked down at the face of her phone and scowled. “Okay, I have to get back to town. I’m going to do some poking around. Discreetly, I promise, and I’ll try to remember everyone we ran into that night at Ahab’s. I’ll text you if I find anything. For now, sit tight. Oh, and Bloodsucker? Be sure to make an appearance just like you always do. Courtland’s in an uproar over this. If you could manage to misdirect him, maybe lead him down another path, that would help.”
Liam remained strangely silent on the subject of Courtland, but he nodded once more to acknowledge Claire’s advice.
Claire gave Freya a long hug before she said, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but listen to Liam, Freya. He knows about being a vampire and if I can’t be the one to help you figure it out, he’ll do. And please, don’t do anything alone. I need you alive…er, undead. Promise me.”
Freya held up two fingers and smiled, hoping she came across as reassuring instead of completely freaked-out. “Scout’s honor. Go. Hurry up before someone catches you out here. It’s pretty close to the Zone, and you’ve made an enemy or two there.”
Claire planted a kiss on her cheek and grinned. “Love you. Swear it’ll be okay.”
Freya pointed to the door. “Ditto. Now go.”
Claire wrapped her scarf around her neck and wiggled her fingers with a smile and cheerfully called, “Bye, Frey-um,” and whisked out the door in a cloud of perfume and red hair.
Liam glanced at Freya, those lines around his mouth tight. “Frey-um,” he grumbled with disapproval. “Don’t you think my name should at least come first?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the man. Shouldn’t we be something like Li-Frey? Or McAshe?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Only if you want people to point and laugh.”
As though he were trying to keep his patience with her in check, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Claire’s right.”
She patted the place where his heart should beat. “That must hurt.”
He half smiled. “Admittedly. But she is right about me showing up at Ahab’s. I’m there almost every night of the week.”
“Right. Bonding with your biker buddy.”
She watched as his jaw went tight and he clenched his teeth before he spoke. “I need to go to Ahab’s tonight.”
“Right. And I need to be immobilized. Party over here,” she teased.
Liam cupped her jaw, running his thumb over her lower lip, making her legs weak. “I don’t want to do it, Freya.”
Without warning, she let her cheek curve into the palm of his hand. “I know. It’ll be fine. Just leave me with the remote and I’ll binge watch Orange Is the New Black or something. I might as well learn about the system from the inside, just in case,” she joked.
Liam pulled her flush to his hard body. “Not gonna happen.”
She found herself fitting her body to his, the heat running through her veins punching up a notch. “Yeah, yeah. I’m glad someone believes I didn’t kill Ethan. Because I’m waffling.”
Liam snaked an arm under her butt and hauled her up over his shoulder with a chuckle as he began to walk toward his bedroom. “No more waffling, vampling. Have faith.”
Freya forgot about having anything but Liam, hard and unrelenting inside her, the moment he dropped her to her feet and dragged the pajama bottoms from her body before burying his tongue between her legs.
She’d worry about faith and her lack thereof later.
Much later.
Chapter 11
He pushed his way through Ahab’s door reluctantly, to find Courtland exactly where he almost always was when he wasn’t out making everyone in his pack miserable. Holding court at the bar, swigging back JD from the bottle and using his forearm as a napkin.
Fuck, he’d hated leaving Freya tonight, sitting in the middle of a carefully constructed circle made up of enormous bulbs of garlic and every cross he could get his hands on. She’d laughed from her seat on the couch about the fact that the myths were real, all while he’d struggled to get the gloves on, his eyes watering at the garlic’s close proximity.
But she’d taken her imposed sentence like a champ, smiling and learning the functions on his remote for his big-screen TV, all the while reassuring him this was better than the town lockup and Courtland.
Still, he worried about her as he crossed the barn-wood floor and took his usual seat beside Courtland. The smug prick made him want to smash his face against the bar top until he was bloody and—and well, dead.
Instead, he slapped Courtland on the back and said, “How goes it?”
Courtland turned to him, his beady eyes zeroing in on Liam’s face. “How goes it? Are you fucking kidding me, Bloodsucker? Haven’t you heard?”
Liam grabbed a peanut from a bowl and crushed its shell, flicking the remains on the floor to keep from becoming violent. “Heard what, man?”
Courtland’s eyes went wide. “Jesus, you asshole. Heard about Freya.”
Pinky, Courtland’s right hand, bobbed his pinhead, giving Liam a shove to his shoulder with a flat palm. “Yeah, Liam. Don’t be so damn insensitive. Boss here’s had a shitty coupla days.”
Liam shrugged as if it to say he was clueless. “Been in the Zone, doin’ what you asked. How the hell am I supposed to know what’s going on if I’m not here?”
Courtland slammed the bottle of whiskey on the bar, sloshing beads of amber everywhere, his round, sweaty face angry. “My goddamn mate killed another were! Fucking stupid bitch!”
Liam leaned back on his barstool and cracked his knuckles. “Whoa. Back up, Dodd. Your mate?”
“Yeah, dipshit. His mate!” Pinky yelled, shifting from foot to foot. “You were here the other night for mate call. You know Freya—that frumpy blonde who’s always making blankets and wears those holey sweats all the time. That’s his mate and she killed Ethan Dempsey, you stupid fuck!”
Liam clenched his jaw to refrain from grabbing Pinky and choking him for calling Freya “frumpy”. He feigned a bit of indifference with his surprise. “Oh, right. I remember you picking her for your mate, but I don’t remember hearing about her and a murder.”
Courtland pushed the bottle with a sharp nudge of his fingers and it slid over the back of the bar, crashing to the floor. “Well, now you damn well have!”
Lachlan, the bartender, slammed his hand down on the bar top. “Damn you, Courtland, take your bullshit hissy fit elsewhere and leave my bar in one piece. You can’t just go throwing shit around because you got your ass handed to you and you look like a blithering idiot!”
Courtland was up in a flash, snatching Lachlan by the collar of his flannel shirt and dragging him over the bar to within an inch of his face. “Fuck you,” he growled.
Outlaw Alpha Page 10
