Half-Breed

by Marcia Colette

  From the moment we stepped into the foyer, mouthwatering aromas wafted from the kitchen. Dane drooled over high-class living. On my left was the country-style dining room that was a project of his late wife and had hardly changed since her death. He altered the red and yellow decor from time to time, but he kept the quaint Victorian style in her honor. Dark rosewood and matching straight-backed chairs looked like period pieces. The regular dinnerware decorated the table while thousands of dollars in china sat inside an oak armoire on the other side of the room. One end of the twelve-seat table had plates and silverware set for four. Large windows with red embroidered curtains decorated the front of the room, where one had a perfect view into the large front yard and the rural road in the distance.

  Riley and Graham sat at the far end of the table, discussing past hunts and reminiscing over a time when a skunk had ambushed them. Choosing to pass on their moment in history, I hobbled into the kitchen.

  Dane took a stool from the black granite island, shoved it underneath me, and put my crutches off to the side. Not only was he a great sharpshooter, but cooking was one of his specialties. His skills rivaled those of my husband, but unless he had a cookbook or a basic recipe outline, he was hopeless.

  More black granite countertops circled halfway around the large kitchen, adding to the beeswax glow of cherry wood cabinets and the hardwood floor. Matching cherry wood doors hid the refrigerator from the rest of the cabinetry while the black doors on the Dutch oven matched the granite. Large pots and pans hung on a rack over the island. A six-burner range sat next to the sink, steam boiling off see-through pots and fried rice sizzling in a pan. I'd kill to have a kitchen like this.

  "Smells good,” I said. “You need any help?"

  "Pork roasts,” he replied, keeping his back to me as he shoved a roasting pan into the oven. “Everything's done, so unless you're hungry, we should talk for a minute.” He put his oven mitts on the counter and sat on a stool across from mine. He picked up a glass of burgundy wine and took a sip before continuing. “Have you talked to Matt today?"

  "Yes,” I snapped, ruminating over our heated conversation. “I call at least once a day."

  "Then why haven't you gone back to him yet?"

  That took me aback. Unsure of how to answer him, I blinked several times. “Why do you care? I thought you guys hated his guts enough to keep me here."

  "Do you want to be here? Because I would love having you around. Riley is a fun roommate, but he grates on my nerves sometimes—not that I have to tell you that. Why do you think I give him money and send him away on international hunts? He's my best friend and I love him like a brother, but even I can only take so much."

  "What do you want me to do? Give into his sexual advances so you can take a break?"

  He waved a dismissive hand. “No, no. That's not how I meant it. All I'm saying is that you would add variety to the house. But that wasn't the point I was trying to make.” He sipped his wine again before setting the glass on the counter. “I know how much you love Matt, and that you don't plan to stay here forever. But I don't think you're ready to give me or the Club up, even if he asked you to.” Leaning closer to the island, he reached across the counter and took my hand. “I love you like a father, Lex. But I can't have you here if being here is going to make you unhappy in any way. I won't let you sit here and ruin your marriage on our account. If I have to, I'll toss you out, so that you don't have to choose between us and your husband."

  Fight the tears, dammit! Don't let them fall! My heart swelled. Dane wanted to make things easy for me as only a ... Just say it, Lex. Put it out there so that he knows what you're feeling.

  So I did. “You're a pain in my backside ... but you're more of an Alpha to me than Seth will ever be."

  There ... I said it. But nothing changed on his face. Though he held my gaze for longer than I would have liked, he lowered his eyes right before the silence almost triggered a sassy comment from me.

  Regarding Dane as my Alpha bound me to him beyond the human understanding we once shared. Though we've always had the werewolf understanding, until now, it went unspoken. Sure, my original reasons for joining the Hunting Club had a lot to do with curiosity and a need to sate my rambunctious nature. But if you peeled back the layers to get to the real reason, I wanted to be closer to the man I considered my surrogate father. Sure, I have a wonderful Dad who I'd risk life and limb to protect. But I didn't have to, because I knew Dane would do the same for anyone in my family. For a man who had given us so much when we didn't have anything, I didn't think twice about returning the favor every time we set out on a mission. In my eyes, he was a true Alpha wolf. My ingrained intelligence wouldn't have it any other way.

  Dane caressed the back of my knuckles with his thumb. “If it makes you feel any better, I've had eight months to think about some things. One of them being, it's time that I actually stopped ordering people around and took some responsibility for my decisions."

  "But you've—"

  He placed two fingers on my lips and smiled. “Let me finish. Everyone fell away because I was the first to fall. Even you went on with the rest of your life. I should've pulled everyone together that night, instead of drowning my sorrows in a bottle of Jack Daniels."

  "Dane, you don't have to—"

  "Nobody knows what happened before Alan, Joss, and Chris left for North Carolina.” He paused as if to let that sink in. And boy did it. He watched with a stolid visage as I blinked several times. “Alan called me two weeks prior. He said there was activity in Raleigh. I thought it was too soon to mount a mission until we learned more. He didn't. So he went over my head and called Chris and Joss to help him. I didn't find out until after they arrived. Joss called, thanking me for sanctioning the mission."

  I couldn't believe what I had just heard. That man—a guy I considered a close friend—had the gall to sneak off without Dane's say-so. That churned my stomach. “Alan was your number two man. He had no fucking right to—"

  He waved a hand to still me. “I know. Believe me; I let him know, too. Alan said he was tired of sitting around. He said that I was too slow and that he wanted some action. So he went up to North Carolina and found some."

  "And the bastard walked everyone into a deathtrap while you took the blame."

  Dane nodded. “Other than you, Fisk and Graham are the only people who know about it. And to be honest with you, I think that's the real reason why your uncle put the bounty on your Matt's head. He knows there are only so many people I trust, and you're one of them. With the mess that Alan caused, he knew I needed people I could count on."

  Staring just over his shoulder, I shook my head in disbelief. “So in a way Alan went rogue hunter on you."

  "Exactly. Anyway, it was too late to recall ‘em. Plus, Alan made it clear that he didn't want to hear anything else I had to say. So I went along with the idea. Then when I stopped hearing from those guys, I assumed the worst."

  "And so you put your list together really fast and got a team up there."

  He nodded. “I was going to put the team back together, but I didn't expect to do it so soon. Now Decker's been bitten and I've got inexperienced hunters like Jack who can't keep his fucking mind on business."

  "So what happens now?"

  "I clean house.” Dane pushed away from the island and went to the stove. Using a potholder, he lifted the glass lid off a pot of steaming vegetables and stirred them with a wooden spoon he took from the counter. “I've already trimmed the excess from the ranks. Those guys who were in the woods with Jack, you won't see them again. As for everyone else, I won't tolerate an ounce of insubordination. Too many people have already died because of it. Those who don't like the new rules will find themselves in a body bag."

  Okay, this was the Dane that I rarely got a glimpse of. He meant business. I guess I couldn't blame him, considering everything that had happened in less than a year's time. And now that I knew the real story behind our trip to North Carolina trip, I understood why he t
ook the position he had. Had I been in his place, I would have done the same. Well ... I would have shot Decker by now, but I guess one of us had to keep their wits about them.

  "Then I'm onboard,” I said, smiling.

  He replaced the lid on the pot, tossed the potholder on the counter, and slid a smirk to his lips. “You're the least of my worries. You and Riley, you guys would follow me into a burning house."

  "Now hold on,” I said, pulling back in my seat. “If I see flames, you can rest assured that your ass is on your own. I'll pay for the urn at your funeral."

  He chuckled and shook his head. “That's another reason why I put the Club back together. You, Riley, Fisk, Graham ... You guys make me want to be a better leader."

  A loud, muffled howl came through the walls of the house, turning our heads in the direction of the window, where an abandoned barn was visible out back. I got up from the stool and hobbled to the counter for a look.

  The only thing that worked on the barn was the doors. Someone should have torn that thing down decades ago. Rotted wood, boarded windows, creepy bats flying in and out of a hole on the roof. We joked about Dane turning it into a haunted house at Halloween and charging people to see it.

  A few months into the Hunting Club, Dane showed me the underground lair he had built. The Hole, as we had called it. There was a small office where he kept information on file about the entire supernatural community. He even had a stash of weapons hidden behind a closet panel, some so unique that it wouldn't surprise me if they were illegal. On the other side of the cement wall was an 8x8 foot cage that Dane had reinforced over the years. One of these days I expected to walk down there and find a James Bond setup. The trapdoor entrance had large bushels of hay stacked on top, wooden stairs reaching seven feet underground, and a large overhead light that kept the entire room lit during the day, controlled by a switch inside the main house.

  How on earth it was supposed to help Decker regain his sanity, I didn't know. But it sure gave me peace of mind.

  Dane sighed. “Feeding time for Decker."

  "Feeding time? You make it sound like he's on display at the zoo."

  "With the way he's been acting, he might as well be. He spends most of his time slamming against the bars and trying to break the lock. We try spending time with him, but he's too far gone. His changes are emotional, so there's no control whatsoever."

  "Well, at least you don't have to worry about him going more than three weeks without a change."

  "He's been asking for you. He knows you're here visiting Graham because we've come back with small traces of your scent on us. You'd think we would have learned our lesson by now.” Dane took a large metal dog dish from the cabinet and opened the oven. He shoved a fork into one of the pork roasts and dumped it into the dish.

  "You're feeding him pretty well, don't you think?"

  "Is that concern for his well-being I hear?” Dane smirked, replaced the roasting pan, and kicked the oven door closed. “Do you want to see him? Just keep in mind his clothes are gone and he foams at the mouth. If you're in there, I can't imagine what he'll do and I don't want to be held responsible."

  My face contorted in disgust. “No, thank you. You can torture him with electric cow prods up the ass for all I care. When it comes down to things like attempted rape, my morals go right out the window."

  Dane picked up the dog dish. He walked over to me, encircled his arm around my waist, and pulled me in for a chaste kiss. “You're so ruthless sometimes. That's one of the things I love about you."

  "Hey,” Riley said, blasting through the swinging kitchen door. “Don't I get a kiss? I want equal time too."

  I glared at him. “I crunched Decker's balls. Twice. Do want equal time for that too?"

  Dinner went off without any problems. We sat around the dinner table reminiscing about the good old days again. Then we took our camaraderie to the lounge, where we enjoyed cherry streusel for dessert. When it came time for us to leave, the guys reluctantly walked us out.

  Yeah, I could honestly say that we were a family. Dysfunctional at best, but we were what we were and nothing would ever change that.

  So why did I let a second howl from the barn break into our goodbyes? Because nothing in life was ever certain. That much, I had learned from Decker.

  Chapter 37

  The next morning started off like any other, with me hobbling out of bed for the habitual breakfast my uncle enjoyed making. When we finished, we cleaned up the kitchen and sat in the living room for another long talk about growing up in the good old days. Though this wasn't what I expected, I ended up bonding with my uncle though I had threatened his life not too long ago. Nothing bad could happen to the old geezer until we made our peace. Keeping with the family bonding theme, I also gave my sister a call.

  "Matt's been calling everyday,” Genevieve imparted. “What the heck is going on? I thought you guys were living in marital bliss."

  "It's nothing,” I lied. “We're having a tiny spat that couples go through from time to time."

  "That must be one hell of a spat to send you running away from home.” She paused. “Did he hit you?"

  Dear God, that's all I needed. “No, Viva, he never laid a hand on me. So don't you dare mention this to Mom or Dad. They'd have Matt getting his meals from a stomach tube for the rest of his life."

  Or the other way around if things got out of hand. Matt would never hurt my father, because they had a terrific father-son relationship. In some ways, my husband filled some of the void of losing Avery Jr. But that didn't mean Matt wouldn't defend himself if he had to. I didn't want to think that far ahead, so I stopped.

  "He had better not,” Genevieve warned. “I love him like a brother, but I'll kill him if he lays a hand on you. Are you sure things are okay?"

  "They're fine, Viva. Just promise me you won't say a thing to the folks. It took them a while to trust Matt. The last thing I want to do is have them second guessing themselves. This is something we need to figure out on our own."

  "No worries, little sis. Matt made promise the same thing, so I guess I have to take your guys’ word for it. But call me when you're back on speaking terms again."

  She didn't sound convinced. Neither would I, had I been in her shoes. Nonetheless, I didn't want to think about our conversation anymore. An hour fishing on the pier would take care of that.

  As I squashed a worm onto the point of my hook, my thoughts went to Dane and Riley and our dinner last night. They promised they would come over, but hadn't returned my call. Things must have significantly changed between us, if I craved their company. Then again, I was to the point where I'd have chosen almost any type of werewolf company.

  I missed mingling with the pack's heated bodies and having our limbs intertwined. More than anything, I missed Matt's comforting touches and longed to feel him on my body again. I would have to leave soon. The question was should I go to his loving arms or to those of my sister?

  Snatching me from my thoughts, a fish snagged the end of my line. I began reeling him in, tugging on the arched, fiberglass pole. For a small fish, he pulled with the force of a pit bull. I scooted backwards on my rear because my bum leg wasn't up to par and couldn't give me the leverage I needed. Reeling in the great white wasn't a problem, but I didn't want to snap the line in half, either.

  As the pole strained, I reeled in the line and cursed under my breath. Sweat beads slithered down my back and flooded my pits. Taking a chance, despite my earlier assessment, I stood on my mangled ankle. It hurt like hell, but this fish wasn't getting away. If he put me through that much pain, then I planned to collect.

  Another tug yanked with such a force that my toes curled as though that would keep me from tipping forward. It didn't. I stumbled, my attention on the darkened waters. I cranked the reel again and the line jerked me further. The rod handle dug into my stomach as the parabolic fishing pole convulsed. That monster was going down. Pictures of Graham frying him up in a pan with lemon juice and olive oil came to
mind. The anticipation of the smell flooded my mouth with juice.

  A powerful yank threw me forward, slapping my sore foot on the planks. Scrunching my eyelids shut, I bit my lip to keep from screeching in pain.

  Footsteps pummeled down the dock behind me. It had taken Graham long enough. Another yank from the Loch Ness Monster jerked me inches from the edge of the pier.

  An arm encircled my waist.

  I froze, eyes stuck straight ahead. That wasn't Graham.

  "I've come this far,” Matt said, gripping the pole just above my hands. “You think I'm about to lose you to a fish?"

  A tremor tore through me. A clot stopped up my throat and my heart nearly pumped itself to shreds. Swiveling my head to the right, I matched the voice with the handsome face.

  Matt grinned as his hand reached around to crank the reel. His dark brown eyes remained focused on the taut line that disappeared under the surface waters. I didn't want his attention on some fish. I wanted him to look at me.

  Cupping his chin, I turned his head until he met my eyes. Oh man, did my heart tear up on its own. I wanted more of him, so I parted my lips and met his. Never in my life did I want to taste him the way I did at the moment. Our tongues roved and searched, snaking on any surface that met our needs. I had waited for him for so long that he set off a barrage of fireworks in my gut.

  Zip! Zip! Zip!

  We pulled out of our kiss.

  The reel had taken on a mind of its own as the fish ran off with my bait. Laughing, we turned our attention to the pole and stopped the fish by locking the reel again. Matt pulled on the line as I cranked the spool. The more the fish wriggled the line, the faster we hauled him in.

  Our boisterous laughter caught the attention of the kids playing on their rope swing. Cheers belted out and fingers pointed. Eager faces waited to see our treasure. I guess calling this thing the Loch Ness Monster wasn't that far off the mark.

  Matt backed me away from the edge while I continued to reel in our supper. The grayish-white underbelly of the fish and a fin splashed the surface before being swallowed up by the water. Whatever it was, had to be more than a foot and a half in length. Enough supper for two nights. As the fish got close, Matt picked up the net and continued guiding the line. Lowering the net into the water, he scooped something up and turned around.