by Moira Rogers
“O-okay.” She dragged in a shaky breath. “Okay. But if you don’t call and keep me updated, I’ll track you down and get all up in your business, Jackson Holt.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said with a slight grin. “Hey, tell your cousin Nick said hi, huh?”
“Only you could go from talking about your damn will to matchmaking, Jackson.” Some of the fear had evaporated from her voice. “Unless you want to give me the dirty details about what you and Mackenzie are going to get up to once you’ve done your hero shit, keep your nose out of my business. And Nick’s too, for that matter.”
“Whatever you say, Kat.” Jackson headed for the back door, feeling better. “I’ve got to go. Do me a favor and text me with Mariko’s number, all right? I may need to talk to this friend of hers.”
“Will do. Don’t get killed. I sort of like you.”
“Yeah, I bet you say that to all your bosses. Later, kid.”
Chapter Seventeen
Mackenzie half-expected to find someone waiting for her when she emerged from the bedroom, freshly scrubbed and dressed in more clothing from the closet. The pants were, again, tight across the hips, and the shirt hadn’t been designed for a woman with breasts, but she looked presentable enough. Someone had even stocked the bathroom with things she might need, everything from shampoo and body wash to the clip she’d used to fasten the bulk of her hair at the back of her head.
It was hard to remember she was a kidnapped prisoner as she followed the directions Marcus had given her. Charles was terrifying, but he hadn’t done anything overtly threatening, and Marcus—
Marcus had seemed insane when she’d first met him. Absolutely crazy, with his talk of magic and shapeshifters and destiny. It had been a lot easier to dislike him when he’d been nothing more than an obsessed, deranged lunatic.
She reached the stairs and turned left, following the faint sounds she heard from the door she assumed led to the study. “Marcus?”
He sat in one of the wing-backed chairs, reading. He looked up and smiled when she walked in. “Ready for dinner?”
“Yeah.” She managed a faint smile in return. “I’m pretty hungry.”
“Okay.” He offered her his arm, and patted hers as he led her out the door. “I had a table set up in the conservatory. We don’t really grow many things in there, but the view of the stars through the windows and ceiling is breathtaking.”
It wasn’t her shapeshifter instincts that suddenly screeched a warning. The part of her that recognized where the evening was going was purely human—and entirely disturbed. The fact that Marcus didn’t seem like a raving lunatic anymore didn’t mean she was ready to cuddle with him under the stars.
He recognized the look on her face. “Oh, no. It’s not like that. Well, okay, maybe a little. But I’ve toned it down, I swear. Dad wanted to hire a violinist.”
“Yeah.” Mackenzie glanced at him. “I don’t necessarily think you’re trying to hurt me anymore, Marcus, but I’m pretty sure I can’t downshift from kidnapping to moonlight serenades in less than twenty-four hours.”
“Which is why we’re just having dinner.” The look he wore was bland but pleasant. “No talk of destiny or duty or any of that crap. You tell me about your life, and I’ll tell you about mine. Nothing more to it.”
As if it could be that simple. But arguing wouldn’t change anything. “I’ll try.”
Marcus fixed his eyes on the stairs as they descended. “Look, Mackenzie, believe it or not, this really isn’t my idea of the perfect way to meet and woo a woman. Not that you’re not terrific,” he added quickly, “but it’s all a little rushed and fake for my tastes.”
“I spent the last month and a half in a state of blind panic.” Anger crept into her tone, in spite of her determination not to antagonize Marcus. “I barely slept. I lost everything I had. You people destroyed my life, and a violinist isn’t going to make me forget that.”
He looked contrite. “I didn’t know that you didn’t know. When I came to see you, I mean. I wouldn’t have been so blunt, if I had. As for everything after that… Well, we didn’t have a choice. You’re our last chance, Mackenzie.”
She stopped and pulled her hand away as he descended the final step, leaving her eyes on level with his when he turned to look at her. “I’m your last chance,” she agreed in a quiet voice. “You were willing to go to some crazy lengths to get a hold of me. So I’m wondering what happens if I don’t agree to this. How far are you and your father willing to go?”
Marcus stared at her, his eyes dark. “Considering what you’ve been through,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion, “I’m going to try very hard not to be offended by your implication. But you can rest assured, Mackenzie, I’ve never touched a woman who didn’t want me to do so, and I’m not going to start now.”
Guilt stabbed at her, but she pushed it aside with ruthless resolve. “The men you sent after me killed people, Marcus. Innocent bystanders. I didn’t think you’d be terribly worried about willingness.”
The shock that widened his eyes before disappearing behind anger was fleeting but unmistakable. “What are you talking about?”
He doesn’t know. Exhilaration rose as quickly as the guilt had, and she shoved it down. If Marcus was truly oblivious to the things Charles had done over the years…
She met his eyes without flinching. “The first one was in Minneapolis. The tall one, Eddie? He had me cornered in the stairwell at my hotel. Two college kids came through the door, and I guess they thought Eddie was mugging me. One of them called the cops and the other one tried to get in between us.”
She could see the scene in her memory even now, could hear the slightly drunken slur in the boy’s voice. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-one, newly legal and enjoying the hell out of the city’s nightlife. The memory of what happened next made her voice shake. “Eddie snapped his neck. Like it was no big deal.”
Marcus was shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “You must have been mistaken. Eddie wouldn’t have killed anyone. That’s not what this whole thing is about.”
“It happened again in Chicago,” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “The bouncer at the place I was dancing.”
He backed away from her. “Look, maybe Eddie roughed them up, but he didn’t kill anyone. That’s bullshit.”
“Steven told me it’s been going on for years.” Instinct screamed at her, told her not to press him. If he really had no idea what was going on, she risked pushing him into rejecting what she said out of hand. She tried to pull back, but she couldn’t stop the flood of words. “What do you think happened to my parents, Marcus? What do you think happened to your parents?”
He paled and took another step, but his eyes went hard. “My parents died in a car accident when I was a child,” he said stonily. “Charles Talbot took me in, and he’s given me everything. So you might want to watch what you say next.”
She’d gone too far. “I’m sorry.”
“Sure you are,” he scoffed. “Look, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t keep you here. But that’s damn selfish of me. What we’re supposed to do is more important than what I want, or what you want. But that doesn’t mean Dad would let the things you’re describing happen. He wouldn’t.”
She ignored the guilt and the protests of her empty stomach, and dropped her gaze to the floor. “Should I go upstairs?”
His hands clenched into fists at his sides before relaxing. “No. No, of course not.” He nodded down a hallway. “The conservatory is that way. Enjoy your dinner.” With that, he turned on his heel and stalked off in the opposite direction.
Thanks to her newly sharp senses, Mackenzie heard both voices before she reached the top of the stairs. She recognized the cadence of the first voice as belonging to Marcus, but the second was lower, muffled, and she couldn’t place it.
As her steps brought her closer,
she realized Marcus was talking to Charles, and the conversation had grown heated. “Why didn’t you tell me Eddie and Mason might be—”
Charles cut Marcus off in a low voice. “You should have recognized it as a possibility, Marcus. In a perfect world none of this would have been necessary, but you of all people know what we’re fighting for.”
“It’s unacceptable, Dad.” Marcus’s own voice was low and furious, but rising in volume. “We’re trying to save people, not kill innocent ones who just happen to get in our way.”
“I’ve been alive almost eighty years,” Charles replied shortly. “I’ve watched my kind slowly disappear. How many of us do you think are left? Thirty? Forty? Your children could be the last generation. A few human deaths are nothing compared to the extinction of our entire race.”
“What about cougar deaths?” The question was quiet but damning. “What really happened to my parents? To Mackenzie’s parents?”
Mackenzie froze, afraid to move as silence fell in the study. Her heart pounded so loudly she was terrified Charles and Marcus would be able to hear, but no one came to the door as the silence stretched out.
When Charles finally broke it, it was with a harsh curse. “Steven and his lies. The girl doesn’t know better, Marcus, but you should. Steven’s had time to fill her head with nonsense. It’s your job to make her understand, not to let her confuse you.”
“But it makes sense,” Marcus protested weakly. “If you’d have Eddie kill people to get to Mackenzie, what else would you do?”
“Nothing is more important to me than the cougars.” Charles’s voice was icy. “Nothing. Never forget that.”
It took Marcus a long time to answer. “Okay. Okay, Dad. I’m sorry.”
Mackenzie heard footsteps and scurried back as quietly as possible. When she reached the top of the stairs she cleared her throat and walked—with a good deal more noise—toward her room.
Charles opened the study door, his expression warm and friendly and contrasting starkly with the cold look in his eyes. “Ah, there you are, Mackenzie. I hope you enjoyed your dinner?”
It was the hardest thing in the world to smile at him, and she was sure it looked sickly and terrified. “It was good, thank you. I was just—” She gestured down the hall.
Marcus appeared beside him in the doorway. “I should only be a couple of hours, Dad.” He brushed past Mackenzie without even looking at her.
“Drive carefully,” Charles called pleasantly. “Mackenzie, please allow me to accompany you to your room.”
Fear skittered up Mackenzie’s spine, and she turned without thought. “Marcus, where are you—”
He continued as if he hadn’t heard her, but Charles spoke just behind her, quiet and cold. “He has some errands to run. I can’t go myself, because I can’t trust you not to lie to him in an attempt to secure your own interests. But don’t worry. He’ll return soon.”
She spun to face Charles. Fear made her stumble when she saw the furious expression on his face. “I didn’t lie.” She hated the slight tremble in her voice, but her newly awakened instincts felt nothing but pure, unabated power from Charles, the kind that made her want to find a dim corner and hide.
“Neither did I.” Charles’s words and manner were matter-of-fact. “There is nothing more important to me than the cougars.” At her small start of surprise, he rolled his eyes and leaned closer. “Yes, yes, I could feel you out here, eavesdropping. Tell me. Did you learn anything useful?”
“That you’re a very, very good liar,” she whispered.
Charles merely shrugged and straightened his sweater before beckoning for her to follow him. “Live as long as I have, and you’ll be accomplished at it as well. Tiny fabrications are the cornerstone of our civilization, wouldn’t you agree?”
She followed him. There wasn’t anything else she could do, not when his power wrapped around her with all the smothering weight of a heavy wool blanket. Her legs felt stiff and unsteady from fear as she fell into step next to him, and she shoved her hands into her pockets to hide their shaking. “Since you’re being so honest with me, what’s going to happen to me if I don’t feel up to making babies?”
His glance was shrewd. “Yes, I suppose you would press the issue, wouldn’t you? Very well.” He folded his hands behind him as he walked. “I don’t need your consent to have your consent. I have several very strong, very competent empaths on retainer. I assure you I would find the entire process distasteful, but… Well, as I have said, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to see our race survive.”
Mackenzie swallowed and stared straight ahead. “Will Marcus know that he’s raping me, or will you keep that detail from him as well?”
If she’d hoped to shock him, she failed. He didn’t miss a step, and his response was nonchalant. “I see no reason to punish him with the truth, not when he’s merely doing his duty. I never have.”
So Marcus would be Charles’s puppet again, hurting people without realizing it. Hurting her without realizing it. “You’re going to destroy him. He loves you. He trusts you.”
That stopped him, and he pivoted to stare at her, his expression inscrutable. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me the first time, Miss Evans. The children you and Marcus create will be the culmination of a lifetime’s work, and the continuation of our race.” His eyes flashed with something that might have been pain, but the emotion was gone before Mackenzie could place it. “That, my girl, is more important than any fond memories Marcus might have of me when I’m gone.”
For the first time since she’d arrived, her determination wavered. “How many children?” she asked quietly. “How many children would I need to have for you before I was free to live my own life?”
“As many as possible would be preferable,” he said immediately, “but one would suffice. If nothing went wrong.”
“Fine.” She struggled to keep her voice even. “Can I have a day or two to think about it?”
“Of course,” he said with a paternal smile. “Take three, and let me know what you decide. I believe this is the room Marcus chose for you?”
“Yes.” It was impossible to smile at him, but she managed to keep her expression neutral as she walked into the room. Every instinct in her body raged against the idea of turning her back on him, but she struggled to suppress them. Calm. Docile. Subdued. In all likelihood, Charles already knew she planned to escape, but she couldn’t sit and wait for him to strip her of her free will.
“Mackenzie?”
She took a deep breath before turning to face him, her expression as blank as she could make it.
His own face was serene. “I’m only as heartless as I have to be. Remember that.” He closed the door behind him, and she could hear his quiet footfalls taking him down the hall, away from her.
Mackenzie rested her forehead against the door as she listened to the hushed sounds of the house around her. She was almost positive escape would be impossible. Charles was too smart, too determined, to have failed to cover every eventuality. If she was lucky, he’d find her attempt to leave amusing. If she wasn’t…
She had no idea what the extent of an empath’s powers were, but she had no doubt Charles could find someone to rewrite her feelings, maybe even her entire personality. If he thought she was going to be too much trouble he’d do it tonight, before Marcus even returned.
So I try. And maybe—just maybe—luck would be with her for once.
Chapter Eighteen
Jackson watched a small motorboat make its way across the lake and grumbled under his breath. The place was beautiful, the scenery breathtaking…and he was ready to explode.
The three days since they’d arrived in New Hampshire had been filled with activity. He, Mahalia and Michelle had been focused on pooling their efforts to create the talismans that would allow them access to Talbot’s compound, and the shifters had occupied themselves with planning
the more mundane details of the assault.
And it would be an assault. That was unavoidable. His body hummed with adrenaline at the thought, and he tamped it down. He was getting restless, edgy, and that would do no one any good.
Least of all Mackenzie.
Jackson closed his eyes and slapped his hand on the cedar picnic table.
Next to him, Alec huffed in annoyance. “Is that helping? Beating up the furniture, I mean. Not sure I’m getting the tactical value.”
“Shut up,” he snarled, glaring over at him. “I don’t recall asking your opinion.”
“Too bad. You’re getting it anyway.”
Jackson laughed, a short, humorless sound. “By all means, wise old sage, impart some wisdom. You’re going to whether I like it or not.”
His partner leaned back and grinned at him. “Damn straight I am. I think you should go run laps around the cabin until you’re too fucking tired to sit here and fidget like Kat on a caffeine binge.”
He cocked an eyebrow at Alec. “Is this an army thing? I’m a little nervous, so I have to do laps?”
“A little nervous?” Alec snorted. “Yeah, Jackson. Keep telling yourself that.”
Jackson’s hands itched. In the last five years, he and Alec had had a normal friendship, with the accompanying ups and downs. They’d laughed together, but they’d also beaten each other’s asses, and it was looking like today was going to be a case of the latter rather than the former. “Keep pickin’ at me, Jacobson, and I’ll smack you down. I’m not in the mood.”
Alec rose with enviable grace, the lazy grin still curling his lips. “Sure, if trying to land a punch on me will help, go right ahead.”
The cabin’s back door opened, and Mahalia stepped onto the porch with a steaming cup of coffee. She surveyed the scene in the yard. “Oh, Lord. Peyton!” she bellowed into the kitchen.
