"Where to next?” Aiyana asked.
"Bumper boats,” Matt answered. “You guys ready to switch partners?"
"No,” I said, sliding my crutches underneath my arms. “I'm still having issues with you.” Poking my chin out, I hobbled away from the group.
"That's okay,” Matt laughed. “I'd have a hard time choosing between Vaughn and Aiyana anyway."
I answered him by sticking out my tongue. Better that than giving him the finger ... and it had crossed my mind. When Aiyana punched him in the chest, I smirked and continued on my way.
Our rivalry transferred to the bumper boats. However, I got the chance to ride the boat by myself. After I covered my foot with a plastic bag, we hopped in our round motorized tubes and glided across the water. Twelve other people entered the large pool, but we kept to ourselves most of the time. Whenever humans wandered to our end, we ganged up on them with our water guns and drove them back to the other side. Matt and I worked out enough of our frustrations to make it look as though we were having a wet T-shirt contest. We had so much fun that we got back in line a second time.
The best fun happened during our third go-round. It never dawned on us that it might look snobbish if we kept to ourselves, so we formed an alliance and went after the other boaters. The humans never noticed the nonverbal glances and gestures that came with our animal instinct. We culled the crowd, seeking the weakest among the bumper boaters and taking them down in a blast of water fire.
Two teens proved to be the biggest challenge because they had the drive to step up the game. However, they lacked the ingenuity and skill for the hunt. We set Aiyana up as “cute” bait by letting her throw her long locks behind her shoulder and faking motor problems. The moment the teens made a move for her, we followed behind and blasted them into a watery grave.
It worked again when two leering females sized up Matt. Had they been werewolves, I wouldn't have paid them any attention. But something about a human gawking at my husband had branded the jealousy in me. The moment they took their playtime to Matt, I recruited Aiyana to help me go on a search and destroy mission. When our time at the bumper boats had ended, the soaking wet females twitched their whore-length skirts as they stormed away. They were lucky that waterlog was the only thing they got.
"Okay,” Vaughn said, wringing his shirt. “We have to try the other race cars now."
"Which ones?” Aiyana asked. She squeezed her hair and ran her fingers through her stringy mane.
"The ones where you have to wear the space shuttle seat belts."
"They don't have two-seater cars,” Matt replied. He stole some napkins from a nearby picnic table and wiped his black glistening hair.
"I don't mind sitting this one out,” I lied. “I want to get some ice cream anyway.” No way would I keep these guys from having fun.
Aiyana looked thoughtful. “Mmmm, that sounds good. How about you guys go and we'll help ourselves to dessert?"
"Nah,” Matt said. “I think I want dessert too."
Moaning, I clapped my hand to my forehead. “Enough with the babysitting already. Is there an ‘Invalid’ sign stamped on my back? If you don't drive those cars, then I want to go home. You're not using me as an excuse for not having fun.” That sounded redundant, but it was too late to take it back.
Matt took my hand. “You two go ahead. I want to talk to my wife."
"Matt—"
He waved his hand to move them along. “We'll meet you guys there."
Vaughn and Aiyana exchanged glances. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, leading her away, but she couldn't help glancing back every few seconds, saddened eyes meeting mine. When the crowd swallowed them up, Matt gestured me towards a nearby bench.
"You're not holding us back,” he said.
I crossed my arms. “Then why don't you go to the race track with them?"
"That's not the reason why you're mad."
"I'm not mad. I'm ... a little irritated is all."
"By what?"
I chewed my bottom lip. “We're not doing this here. Not in front of these people."
"Then tell me what's wrong."
Grasping my crutches, I stood and slid them under my arms. “Let's go. Vaughn and Aiyana will think we're having huge problems."
He caught hold to left crutch. “Are we having huge problems? Should I be sleeping in the guest room tonight?"
Hell no! I gulped. Searching his eyes, the words wouldn't form on my tongue. If anyone was going to sleep in the guest room, it should have been me. I just wanted our fight to end. The amusement park helped, but it couldn't fix everything. We both wanted an end to the arguing, but our stubbornness and hurt feelings refused to give us that chance. Perhaps spending more time away from each other would make us desperate enough to call a truce to our friction. When we returned home, I'd check out flights to Albany, New York, and go stay with my parents for a while. At least they still loved me for me, and not out of innate obligation.
Matt searched my eyes. Another awkward moment passed before he dropped his gaze and let go of my crutches. I hobbled away from him, fighting the tears that pinched my bottom eyelids. Not in front of these people. I wouldn't cry in this crowd. When I got to the so-called comforts of my own home, I'd cry if we slept another night in the same bed with our backs to each other.
Vaughn and Aiyana waited with extra tickets in hand. Those three stood in line to drive the Indy-style cars while I leaned against the chain-link fence that surrounded the track. Though Matt's lips moved, he crossed his arms and gutted me with a stare the whole time. To make matters worse, he didn't hide it. I had to look away because it made me uncomfortable. Neither one of us knew what we'd walk into when we got home ... at least, I didn't. I loved him so much, but I couldn't remember the last time we'd said it to each other. Here I was, the bad-ass bounty hunter, and it took the love of my husband—or lack thereof—to unravel me.
When they entered the pit stop area and strapped into their cars, I kept my eye on the signal, waiting for the green light. As they sped out of the alley, I zeroed in on Matt without having to see his face. The seat back sat so high in the racing cars that it made it almost impossible to recognize anyone from behind. Still, I knew it was him.
The track area stank of burnt oil and gasoline seconds after the start. Staying close to the fence, I moved further away from the pit stop area hoping the stench would dissipate. It burned the insides of my nostrils and gave me a headache, so I kept moving away, staying with the fence, until I could breathe somewhat easier.
A hand went around my waist, and someone pulled me against his mouth. I punched and flailed, trying to get away from the interloping bastard who had broken my ultimate rule regarding personal space. My eyes crossed, trying to focus on the crazed jerk. His tongue lapped the inside of my mouth, wrestling my tongue for dominance. He pushed me into the fence, angled chains digging into my lower back. His hardened groin rammed into mine, pressing hard enough to scratch my skin. Angered, I wrapped a fist around a chunk of his hair and wrenched his head away from me.
Decker chuckled back.
Chapter 42
I clutched his disheveled blond hair, and matted patches of dirt and grime crumbled between my fingers. His glassy gray eyes danced with a predatory excitement. He smiled all teeth and scrunched his nose at me. The smell of sweat, urine, and excrement took the place of the oil and gasoline from the race track, turning my acute senses against me. He wore a ratty shirt and pants with more holes than a hornet's nest. To make matters worse, he rubbed against my body, transferring much of his horrendous stench onto me.
"My god, you smell good,” he mumbled in his thick southern accent. “I paid attention for years and saw how you let Riley and Dane hug you, kiss you, love you. Hell, it took Scott no time to make it into yer bed. I didn't see what you saw in all that pawin’ or how it felt. Now I want my share."
"So did Riley, you sick psychotic bastard,” I spat. “But he never got far, now, did he?"
His
nauseating breath made me gag. Add that to the stink of his clothes; he must have spent the last few days eating squirrel, possum, deer, and ... human? Good Lord! The reddish-brown color of dried human blood bibbed around his collar and down his sternum. All the grime had kept me from seeing it and his stench had kept me from smelling it. He had gone as rogue as they come.
Decker sniffed his nose around my neck. “He bragged about how soft your skin was, how exotic you felt against him. A human with the scent of a wolf. You cain't get no more exotic than that. So what if you spurned him? He got what he wanted every time. Your attention. Do I have your attention now?"
But would he...? No. He wouldn't ... Could he have been that insane before getting bitten?
Even as the thoughts flickered across my mind, I couldn't help thinking about North Carolina. It was so ludicrous that I still had a hard time believing it. But something about his being at the right time and place had changed my mind. “You wanted to get bitten, didn't you? Riley wouldn't do it, would he?"
Decker stopped sniffing and turned his wild-eyed gaze on me. “Well, I'll be damned! Either you're a really smart tart or you've got second sight."
He pressed my back so hard into the fence that the metal whined. I bit my lip to keep from whining in pain myself. Decker hardly seemed to notice, and if he did, he didn't care.
Grinning, he continued. “Everyone knows Dane's rules about killing any wolf who bites a human. He never said a thing about ripping your arm between the jaws of a dead one. Bitten, born into it, blood to blood contact; the result is the same. I thought my act was pretty convincing, didn't you? Once the fever took hold, everything ran like clockwork."
Between the pain on my back and his fetid body odor, I spoke through ragged breaths. “Rogue or not, if Dane ever finds out, he'll kill you out of spite. How long do you think it'll be once I tell him?"
"Who gives a fuck about Dane? Come with me, Angel. It only makes sense that the two best hunters around hook up. We can start our own Club by collecting on the contracts from the Georgia Pack."
I drew my left fist back and clocked him with a left hook. Decker staggered a moment, but regained his senses before I could run. A gash opened across the bridge of his nose and part of his cheek. He grabbed my wrist and noticed the blood smeared on my knuckles with the square-cut diamond wedding band perched in the middle. He smiled and slimed his tongue across my fingers and knuckles. A gagging fit brought me to tears.
"You and your hubby have been havin’ problems."
My eyes went wide. “What did you—"
"I've been watchin’ you two. You guys share the bed like total strangers.” He leaned in, pinning me against the fence again. His eyes bulged wider and a drop of spittle glopped from his mouth. “I'll kill him if you want. I'd do anything for you."
"Then die,” a voice said.
A fist shot just over my right shoulder and smashed into Decker's face. Shrieks filtered from a small gathering crowd as people herded themselves away from the commotion. Decker fell to his knees, fingers raking down the metal fence. I slipped away. Matt reached over and dragged Decker off the ground by the hair.
Without warning, he whipped out a large knife from the inside of his pants. Matt jumped back, missing the blade by inches. More people screamed and the small crowd turned into a stampede, running and fighting to get away. Decker growled and launched himself at Matt. He caught Decker's wrist, but slipped in the moist grass. Using it to his advantage, Decker snaked his arm around Matt's neck and pulled him across the fence. He held the blade inches from my husband's Adam's apple.
How dare he threaten my mate?
I picked up the only thing I could find: one of those damn crutches. Winding back, I swung it around and smacked it across Decker's face. His head turned 180 degrees and two teeth spat from of his mouth. Instead of losing my momentum on the upswing, I built it up for another wallop on the back swing. The crutch whacked him on the side of the head and he crumpled face-first to the ground.
Then it happened. Decker raked his hand across the lawn, leaving a trail of deep trenches, his fingernails becoming sickle-shaped claws. Spasms started in his arms and legs as he moved into a crawl position. His neck cracked and grass snake muscles crawled underneath his skin. He sat back on his knees and a long, slick tongue snaked out of his mouth, slithering across his face.
"Lex,” Matt whispered, “back away from him. Now!"
Decker's rancorous eyes met Matt's. He launched himself over the fence and landed on Matt, pinning my husband to the ground. Being that close and in the middle of his change, Decker could have shredded my husband to pieces. More spasms racked his body. Scrunching his eyes closed and bending his pulsating head, he fought to keep his nose and mouth from pulling away from his face.
He held onto his man-beast form, the unnatural form that tortured his arms and legs with quick jerky movements. That was a sure sign that he had gone completely rogue. No wonder Dane thought the only option left was to kill him. Normal werewolves lay quiet and let the change progress to four-legged completion. Only a lunatic would put that much stress on their shifting body to hold the middle change.
Matt tussled with the rogue monster. A horde of people rushed out of the park, yelling with high-pitched shrieks. In the distance, Vaughn and Aiyana fought through the maddened crowd to come to Matt's aid, but they were too far away to do anything.
That left everything to me. Frantic, I searched for another weapon to use. The knife blade glistened on the lawn from where Decker had dropped it. I picked it up and hopped the fence.
Holding it over Decker, I thrust down ramming the knife into his shoulder, scraping what must have been bone along the way. He screeched in agony. His fist sprung out, backhanding me across the face. I flew across the lawn with the knife still clutched in my hand. I thudded to the ground on my stomach about ten feet away. I pushed myself off the lawn, my sluggish head weighing the rest of my body down and a burning sensation throbbing my cheek. Opening and closing my mouth, I tested my jaw to make sure it still worked.
A hand grasped my hair and yanked me off the ground. I swiped the knife around and gashed Decker's arm. He had strength on his side, so I'll be damned before I turn over the knife so easily. He howled and dropped me on the lawn. I crawled away while keeping the knife pointed straight at him. The blade remained steady in my tight grip. There was no way in hell I'd let some psychotic man-beast frighten me. In my years with the Hunting Club, I had been in situations much scarier than this.
Decker stalked me with his glower as I rose on a set of steady legs and faced him. I stared him down. Since he wanted to be a werewolf, he should have picked up on my challenge. If he had any sense, he'd realize a simpleton human hybrid was standing up to him, a full-blood. Most rogues would either let the indignity drive them insane and lash out without thinking or laugh themselves silly and underestimate my abilities. Call it psychology if you want. I took it as an advantage and used it against him.
Decker backed to the right.
"Don't,” I seethed, noting Matt's distance from him. “You touch my mate and I'll split your ass from hole to navel."
A hideous, inhuman smile split the bottom part of his face in half, making it a real ear-to-ear grin. His sluggish tongue slurped around his jagged teeth and smacked against his lips. A deep, muffled laugh chuckled from his bobbing jaw.
Suddenly, he lunged and tackled me to the ground. One clawed hand slammed my knife hand onto the lawn and the other clasped around my neck. He straddled my waist and leaned close. I braced my free hand against his chest, but his psychotic strength surpassed mine. My arm folded in on itself. I panicked, heart hammering against my ribcage. When his tongue snaked out again, I turned my face in disgust and closed my eyes. The putrid stench of his breath touched me, then I felt the slimy coldness slurp across my cheek. Enraged, I moved my free hand from between us and jabbed my thumb in his eye. A primal howl belted from his lungs as I scrounged through the soft matter. Yanking my hand away
, his fist wound back, ready to pulverize my face.
A hand caught it before he could follow through.
Dane yanked his arm backwards and tackled him onto the grass. An arm looped around my upper chest, dragging me across the lawn. Long black hair covered in Riley's scent fell against my shoulder. If Decker had kept an eye on our house, then it only made sense that Dane and Riley would do the same. He pulled me to my feet and leaned me against a different part of the fence before leaving to help Dane subdue the maniac rogue.
All three of them wrestled in the grass, but Decker let his change proceed. When his face pulled into a muzzle and more bones cracked, the two men backed away. Decker saw an opening and seized it. Hunched over and still able to run on two legs, he leapt across the lawn and onto the race track. Dane and Riley followed. He made it to the wooded side of the race track unscathed, but the two Club members had spent too much time dodging some of the last remaining drivers on the track. By the time they made it to the other side, Decker had escaped.
Chapter 43
Burning red patches covered my skin where I had tried to scrape off Decker's rancid odor. After removing my plastic boot cast, I immersed every inch of my body in a heated bath. The hot water soothed my aching joints and muscles. Though it relaxed some parts of me, my hands wouldn't stop trembling. When I wet my washcloth under the faucet, they ceased for a moment, then went right back to their tortured state. The chilled room and the fight with Decker had nothing to do with it. He could have done whatever he wanted to do to me, but when he put that knife to Matt's throat...
I gulped. A tear broke free just as someone knocked on the bathroom door. I wiped it away and fanned my face.
Clearing my throat and not looking up, I answered in a low voice, “Come in."
Half-Breed Page 32
