by Casey Lane
Wren’s brows raised in surprise. “This isn’t a negotiation. You’ll either do as I ask or not. However, if Isa says Neoma can spend the night and Neoma wants to spend the night, that’s just fine by me. What’s it going to be?”
Tristin sighed. “Fine. Let’s go play outside. Whatever that means.”
They all moved to the door except Rhys. Rhys stayed put, daring Wren to do something about it. Rhys wasn’t some baby Wren could trick with mind games.
When it was only the two of them again, Wren said, “I can’t help but notice you’re still here. I can only assume it’s because you want to help me make dinner.”
Rhys snorted at that. Like he was going to help Wren with anything. He stood, walking to the back door, letting it slam loudly behind him. He stopped short at the bottom of the porch steps, picking up on Neoma’s rabbiting heartbeat.
“Neoma?” Tristin asked.
“What’s wrong with her?” Quinn asked, waving a hand in front of the girl's near-catatonic face.
Rhys couldn't see her face, but he could smell what was wrong. She was terrified. Frozen in place, staring just beyond the trees.
“Should we go get Wren?” Kai asked. Tristin and Quinn exchanged worried glances.
Rhys walked to Neoma, leaning down to catch her eye. “Neoma!”
The girl blinked, the spell broken. “I'm alright.”
She wasn’t alright. Her heart was beating hard and fast, and the scent of her fear and pain was enough to make him dizzy. His wolf wanted to isolate her from the others. Protect her. Something in his brain registered her as wounded but as pack, not prey. “Go play,” Rhys snapped at the others. “Neoma just needs to sit down for a minute. It’s really hot out here today.”
Neoma looked at Rhys, giving him a small smile.
“I’m not leaving Neoma,” Tristin said, crossing her arms.
Rhys gave her a withering look. “She’ll come play with you in a minute, Tristin. Stop arguing about everything.”
Tristin looked to Neoma, who gave a stilted nod. “Fine,” she said, giving Rhys a haughty look. “But I’m coming back in fifteen minutes.”
When they started towards the woods, Neoma looked panicked, grabbing Rhys's arm and shaking her head. Rhys frowned, unsure of what had the girl so afraid. But he knew better than to chance it. "Wait,” he called after them. “Go play in the front yard.”
“What? Why?” Kai asked.
“Because I said so,” Rhys said, wishing just once people wouldn’t argue with everything he said.
“Who died and made him boss?” Quinn muttered as they walked towards the front of the house.
Rhys didn’t speak again until they were alone. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” Her heartbeat said she was telling the truth.
“Why are you afraid?”
Neoma bit down on her bottom lip, something he’d seen his sister do a million times, usually when she was uncertain about something. Finally, she said, “The trees don’t talk to me anymore.”
Rhys blinked, frowning with his eyebrows. “What does that mean?”
Neoma sank into the grass, legs folded beneath her, leaving Rhys no choice but to tower over her or sit too. He sighed, sitting beside her, legs stretched out in front of him, leaning back on his hands.
She put her hand over his and Rhys flinched at the electrical charge that shot from her palm into his skin. “Do you feel that?”
Rhys nodded, resisting the urge to shake out his hand. “Yes. What is that?”
She looked up at the sky as if she might find answers there. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, but I can’t remember why.”
Did she always speak in riddles? “Not supposed to talk about what?”
“My hands. The things I hear. The things I can do.” She looked at him then. “But Tristin said I don’t have to hide my magic here. Is that right?”
Rhys wanted to say yes, but he knew things the others didn’t know. Secrets about this town, why it existed. Everybody there worked for the Grove in one way or another, even if they didn’t think they did. “No, that’s not true. You shouldn’t trust anybody you don’t know.”
“But not you…I can trust you, right?”
Rhys should say no, but when she stared up at him with those huge blue eyes, he just couldn’t. “Yes, you can trust me.” She relaxed, letting her head droop to his shoulder. He stared at the top of her head. She’d believed him, just like that. Did she believe everybody so quickly? “What does Wren say about…what you can do?”
“Wren doesn’t know. Wren can’t know.”
That feeling of disquiet crept back in. “Why? Why can’t Wren know?”
Neoma scrunched up her forehead, miserable. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. Nothing makes sense anymore.” She tapped her head. “It’s all a mess.”
“Are you afraid of him? Of Wren?” he clarified, half hoping she’d say yes.
She shook her head against his shoulder. “No. Wren would never hurt me. But I can’t tell him. I can’t. He’s not supposed to know.”
“Okay, if you don’t know why he’s not meant to know, do you remember who told you you’re not supposed to say?”
“Cain.” She whispered his name like a curse.
“Who’s Cain?”
Even saying his name made the girl recoil. “Wren’s dad. Our alpha.”
Rhys had never met another wolf pack, but he knew that not all alphas were nice. He’d heard Isa talking to Gen and Hadley about wolves who lived deep in the swamps, practically feral. Wren seemed educated, not at all like some of the packs Isa talked about, but that didn’t mean his alpha was as nice as his sister.
“Cain told you that you can’t tell anybody about your magic? When?”
“When I was little. He made Magna bind my powers, so they weren’t as strong.”
Her touch had felt like he’d stuck a fork in an electrical socket. “Are they still bound?”
She hesitated, before shaking her head. “The spell broke when Magna died. It all came back quickly.”
“And you didn’t tell anybody that.”
“I told Ezri.”
Rhys didn’t know who Ezri was. He wasn’t sure he even understood this conversation, but Neoma was leaning on his shoulder radiating trust, and Rhys just wanted more, so he kept going. “Not even Cain?”
“Especially not Cain.”
“Neoma, what scared you, just now?”
“Somebody spoke to me, in here,” she whispered, tapping her temple again.
“Spoke to you like the trees did?”
She shook her head, hands trembling. He covered it with his own, not even caring if she shocked him. “Wren took me to a psychic just before we left Tennessee. She said I had a passenger.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think the voice in your head was this passenger?”
She turned to him, nodding, eyes filling with tears.
“What did the voice want? What did it say?
“She said, ‘There you are.’”
She? A full body shudder ran through him, fear trickling down his spine. He wanted to think Neoma was crazy. Trees didn’t talk to people, and most people who heard voices in their heads were crazy but Rhys had a wolf living inside him so who was he to say what was normal and what wasn’t.
“Did they say anything else?”
She shook her head.
“Then why are you so afraid of the woods?”
“Because she’s in there…watching me.”
“How do you know that?”
“She showed me, showed me through her eyes. I saw me, Tristin, Kai, and Quinn all standing here.”
Rhys’s spine went rigid, letting himself partially shift, scanning the woods for movement, inhaling deeply. He could hear Neoma’s heartbeat, could hear the others playing in the front yard. He could smell the natural scents of the forest, the dirt, the trees, the pungent scent of other animals. Th
readed through all these other scents was the sharp smell of decay, but animals died and rotted in the woods all the time. There was nothing screaming danger…nothing except Neoma.
“You don’t believe me,” she whispered.
“I do. I just don’t smell anybody out there. I don’t hear or see anything either. Why would this person want you to know she can see you?”
“Ezri said I had to break the spell she put on me, but I think it’s breaking all on its own.”
Rhys didn’t know what to say? That’s not true. He knew exactly what to say. Who the hell was Ezri? Why had she put a spell on Neoma? What could he possibly do to help her when he couldn't even help himself. But he didn’t say any of those things. Instead, he asked, “Why can’t she break it herself?”
“Ezri’s dead. The Grove burned her up.”
Rhys knew his face was reacting without his permission, but he’d never heard anybody talk so casually about somebody being burned alive. “You don’t seem that upset.”
“No. I can’t be. She took it from me. She didn’t want me to be sad.”
Chapter Eleven
Isa
Isa drove home doing ten miles under the speed limit. She hadn’t expected to be called out on a hunt, especially not because of pixies. Mrs. Rollins was crazy, but she hadn’t been wrong. Something had been out there trampling through her garden. Maybe it was Mrs. Jenkins’ menacing red-eyed deer? Maybe it was a stray dog. Either way, Isa was just glad it wasn’t pixies. She’d lost a chunk out of her finger the last time she’d gone up against one. They were nasty little suckers.
But the truth was, she’d take blood-sucking pixies or evil deer over the wolf waiting for her at home. If he was even still there. Which she doubted. She’d kept him waiting for two hours. Alone. With five children. Neither man nor wolf could withstand Kai and Rhys’s sniping at each other, or Tristin’s lectures or Quinn’s…well, honestly, Quinn was an angel, really, but still, five kids was a lot.
It was better to run him off now, especially if his family was the werewolf equivalent of gangsters. Which, again, she doubted. Wren certainly didn’t strike her as a future mafia kingpin. Alex could hardly be objective. But could she be objective about it? Whenever she was within ten feet of Wren, she wanted to jump him. Her wolf, she corrected silently. Her wolf wanted to jump him. But she was not a slave to her wolf because nothing good could come of letting him into her life. Her wolf needed to get with the program.
There was far too much going on in her life for her to even contemplate…she couldn’t even think of the word. The whole idea of being tied to another person for the rest of her life was just too much. She had a system in place. A carefully crafted plan that allowed her to raise four kids and run a restaurant and pay her bills and keep this town safe from the supernatural horrors that seemed to wander through every month. She couldn’t deviate from the plan, or her life would crack into a million little pieces.
Something tightened painfully in her chest. She should never have agreed to meet with him. She shouldn’t have given him hope that this would ever be anything other than a disaster. There was no place for him in her life much less another kid. She was just going to tell him that his lovely blue eyes and his adorable child had to go.
When she pulled in, the driveway was empty. He wasn’t there. He’d probably left when he saw she was late. The ache behind her ribs annoyed her. It was for the best. She was sweaty and gross and needed a shower, and she was only going to send him on his way. Now she didn’t have to. Her wolf growled, but Isa did her best to ignore the gnawing feeling in her stomach. It was stupid to feel disappointed over somebody she’d only seen twice in her life.
She would take a long hot shower and wash away the remnants of her night; maybe she could even read her book or watch Who the Bleep Did I Marry. It seemed fitting. She exited the car, determined to shake off the strange feeling of loss.
Once inside, she tossed her keys on the table in the foyer and started towards the kitchen. She was halfway down the hall when she noticed the gaping hole in her ceiling. “You have got to be freaking kidding me,” she muttered.
She looked at the floor in confusion. They’d cleaned up the drywall. Had they thought she wouldn’t notice the gaping hole in the ceiling? She bit down on her lip until she tasted blood, trying to push back the sudden wave of tears that threatened. She contemplated just sitting down on the floor and crying.
There was a strange grinding noise above her head and the sound of the water kicking on. Isa’s head jerked upwards. That was the water to the spare bathroom. Everybody knew not to use that bathroom. They were going to flood the whole house. “No, no, no, no, no,” she moaned, her words echoing in the empty hall. “I’m going to kill them,” she growled, dashing through the kitchen and up the back stairs, wrenching the guest bathroom open.
She blinked, trying to take in the scene. A bare torso and a set of jean-clad legs stuck out from under the sink. Rhys sat on the side of the bathtub, her dad’s old red toolbox at his feet. He gave her a guarded look as if daring her to say something about him working with the enemy.
“Okay, kid, turn it off.”
Her heart stuttered in her chest at the sound of Wren’s voice. Rhys did as he was told, turning the knob as Wren slid out from under the sink. He handed the wrench to Rhys, who carefully placed it back in its proper spot in the toolbox. Isa’s palms went damp as she took in Wren’s sweaty bare torso. She licked her bottom lip, dragging her gaze upwards to find him smirking at her, brow raised. A gentleman would’ve ignored it.
Isa folded her hands across her chest, trying to provide a barrier between her and the half-naked wolf. “What are you doing in here?” she asked, voice raw.
Wren stood to his full height making the already enclosed space feel even smaller. He gestured to the sink. “I was attempting to fix your plumbing, but I think that’s going to take more than a couple of hours. These pipes are shot.”
She blinked heavy lids at him, attempting to focus on his words. Plumbing. Pipes. Right. He laughed low. He knew the effect he was having on her. He was totally doing it on purpose, standing there looking all hot and sweaty and…handy. Isa bit down on the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to meet his gaze and not peruse all that bare flesh on display before her. “Well, this town is cloaked from humans. There's not a lot of plumbers here in Belle Haven, so you can see my dilemma.”
Her knees went wobbly as he gave her that lopsided smile. “Well, then it’s a good thing I arrived when I did. My father owns a construction company. I’ve been building houses since I was old enough to swing a hammer.”
Isa’s fingers trailed over her arm as she pictured Wren swinging a hammer, his tattooed muscles flexing. She itched to trace the intricate patterns of ink on his skin. She bit her lower lip, unable to stop imagining other ways she could trace his tattoo…like with her tongue. She shook the thought away.
This wasn't fair. He wasn’t supposed to be there. She hadn't prepared herself for this.
Rhys looked back and forth between the two of them, horrified. “Okay, that’s it. I’m outta here. This is gross,” he said, closing the door behind him.
Wren advanced on her, but she held a hand out. “This isn’t happening. This can't happen.”
The close quarters had every one of her senses on overload. Her wolf clawed at her insides, urging her closer. The need to touch, to mark, to wrap herself in his scent, was crushing her ability to think about anything but her baser needs. Everything about this man made her wolf scream mine.
His smile was predatory, his eyes glowing blue as he inhaled deep, a low rumble escaping as he caught her scent.
“No. Nope. Uh-uh. Not going to happen, Wren Davies. You are not going to woo me with plumbing.” His gaze raked over her, taking in her dirty clothes and messy hair like she was wearing lingerie. “I mean it,” Isa warned, conviction leaching from her voice as he prowled closer, crowding her against the door. “I don’t want you,” she whispered.
> His nose grazed along the column of her throat, his lips skimming behind the shell of her ear. “You smell like you want me.”
Isa bit off a whimper, her body throbbing with his words. She couldn’t think with him so close. She needed to take control. She was the alpha. She made the rules. She needed space. She needed to breathe air that didn’t smell and taste like him.
But he wasn’t letting that happen. His forearm was braced above her head, his other hand brushing along her hip. She couldn’t focus on anything but his touch and his scent and the way he was growling—actually growling—against her ear, overwhelming her until she could think of nothing else but getting him closer.
She moved to push him away, but her hands didn’t get the message, fingers splaying wide across his bare chest and sliding lower until her palms lay flat against his ridiculously perfect stomach. She gave a shuddery breath, feeling his belly rise and fall beneath her hands. She’d never been this close to anybody before—had never wanted to be this close to anybody before—and now it just didn’t seem close enough.
His breath was panting against her ear, but he didn’t make any further move, waiting for her permission. “I don’t care how I smell to you. I said you could have dinner, not seduce me with talk of fixing my pipes like we’re trapped in a bad porno,” she finally managed.
He dragged his knuckles lightly along her cheek before his callused thumb stroked across her lower lip. “You’re so damn beautiful; you know that?”
She briefly imagined drawing his thumb into her mouth, dragging her teeth across the flesh. Instead, she squeezed her eyes closed. “Stop that. Stop being all cute and charming and sexy. Seriously. You are just making this harder o-on yourself. You can’t really expect me to honor this betrothal. It’s crazy. We don’t even know each other.”
He was watching her mouth hungrily, his teeth lengthening, drawing attention to his very kissable lips. “My wolf knows yours, Isa. You know it’s true—your body knows it’s true—even if you don’t want to admit it.”
