Lure of Oblivion (Mercury Pack Book 3)

by Suzanne Wright

  Zander clenched his jaw. She was probably right. Still . . . “I don’t like it.”

  “Trust me, I’ll be fine.”

  “I do trust you.”

  Gwen’s breath caught in her throat. Considering she’d opened up to him at a snail’s pace, it was the last thing she’d thought he’d say. Especially since he was, by his own admission, extremely guarded. Lost for words, she leaned into him, letting him know she appreciated and valued his trust in her.

  He pressed a lingering kiss to her hair and squeezed her nape. “Let’s get this done, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said softly.

  A short while later, Derren whipped the SUV into a parking space outside the sheriff’s department. Zander immediately noticed the sheriff’s car. Through the large windows of the office, it was easy to see that the chairs in the reception area were vacant. Good. Zander didn’t want Gwen to have to hang around awhile, waiting for her chance to speak with Colt.

  “Hopefully I won’t be long,” said Gwen.

  Zander grabbed her braid, keeping her in place as he gave her a light kiss. “We’ll be here. Call or text if you need me.”

  With a faint smile, she slid out of the SUV. Staying in his seat, watching her walk into a messed-up situation alone, went against every protective instinct he had. And it gutted him.

  “She’ll be okay, Z,” said Bracken. “The sheriff might not like her, but he’s not a physical threat to her.”

  Derren nodded. “Besides, she’s tough.”

  “She’s also mine.” This was twice in one day that Zander couldn’t be at her side while she went through a shitty experience. He hated that.

  “She’s been through worse alone,” Ally pointed out.

  Zander clenched his fists. “Reminding me of that does not help.” His pulse spiked as Gwen disappeared into the sheriff’s department, out of his line of sight. He took a long breath. “This plan better fucking work.”

  Gwen stepped into a clean, sterile reception area, nose wrinkling at the scents of coffee and bleach. The room was empty, apart from the janitor, and—as luck would have it—the sheriff. He appeared to be bullying the janitor, just as he did everyone else . . . which was likely why the poor guy looked close to ramming his cart into Colt’s gut.

  She took a few steps toward them, snatching the sheriff’s attention. He straightened to his full height, brow creased. To her amusement, he also seemed to be struggling not to bare his teeth.

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  “Such commendable people skills,” she said drily. There was no sense in acting pally with him. That would only make him suspicious.

  “Just answer the damn question, Gwen.”

  Before she could speak, the front door swung open, and a scantily dressed woman crossed to the sheriff on high heels, leaving the faint scent of marijuana in her wake. She also had some serious bruising on her face.

  “Where is he?” she demanded, her voice a whip.

  Colt sighed, bored. “Sandra, I’m going to have to ask you to stay calm.”

  “Where’s Jim?”

  “Where he normally is, Sandra—the drunk tank. And I suppose you’re going to tell me that the bruises on your face aren’t his artwork.”

  She shifted uncomfortably. “I fell. You know I’m clumsy.”

  “Clumsy. Right.”

  “Let him go, Sheriff. Please.”

  Gwen’s stomach plummeted. The scene was too close to home—or to the home she’d had during her childhood, anyway. How many times had her stepdad’s ass ended up in the drunk tank? How many times had Hanna pleaded with the police to let him go, always equipped with inventive excuses to explain the bruises? She’d even taken Gwen along for sympathy, encouraged Gwen to back up her lies. And Gwen had.

  “He assaulted a police officer while in custody,” said Colt. “That means he isn’t leaving for a little while. You go on home, Sandra.”

  “No. I want to speak to Jim!”

  A muscle in Colt’s cheek ticked. “If you insist on sticking around, that’s fine. Maybe we could do a little drug test while you’re here.”

  Sandra instantly drew back, paling. “Fine. I’ll go home.”

  “Thought you might.”

  Spinning on her heel, Sandra made a dramatic exit—much like Hanna used to do.

  Colt cleared his throat. “Well, Gwen, what kind of complaint do you have now?”

  Gwen balled up her hands. She wasn’t sure she could do this. Wasn’t sure she could again lie to protect an abusive son of a bitch . . . she’d done enough of that as a kid.

  But this time it would be different, she reminded herself. This time, the son of a bitch wouldn’t go unpunished. He’d eventually get what he deserved. Still, a part of her felt shamed by what she was about to do. It didn’t make much sense, but that shame was there all the same.

  She lifted her chin. “We should talk alone.”

  Whatever he saw in her expression made his confrontational stance ease. “Come to my office.”

  She followed him into what was essentially a box room, but he’d made the most of the small space. At his gesture, she took the seat opposite him. “I’m here to alter my statement,” she said through her teeth.

  Colt stiffened, surprised. “Really?”

  “I’m not doing it for Brandt or any of the Moores—let’s just be clear on that. I owe someone a favor, and they’ve called it in. I repay my debts.”

  He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table, looking rather satisfied. “All right. Why don’t you tell me what you really saw that night?”

  Gwen narrowed her eyes. He knew her version had been the truth—the issue was that the truth simply didn’t suit him. “Don’t push it. Before we get started, I have a condition. I’ll do this, but I don’t want the news to make its way around town. The shifters can’t know.”

  He abruptly straightened. “They’re still here?”

  “My family needs protection right now. I was attacked by a flock of avian shifters the other night. There’s no way I’ll believe that the Moores weren’t behind it—there’s no one else who’d mean me the kind of harm that the shifters caused.”

  “They could have been enemies of the wolves you’ve got hanging around you.”

  “If that was the case, they wouldn’t have attacked me.”

  “Maybe the extremists got hold of the story and sent someone to hurt you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Believe what you want. The point is that I want to keep the shifters around for protection. I’ll give the Moores what they want and alter my statement, but they need to keep it to themselves.”

  Colt twisted his mouth. “The shifters will find out at the hearing.”

  “But by then, the Moores will be happy and willing to leave me alone.”

  “And what about the shifters? I don’t think they’ll like that you’ve used them.”

  “I know.” She sighed, as if troubled. “I’m thinking it might be best if I act like I’m having second thoughts the night before the hearing. I could act afraid and stuff. Then they’ll just think I fell at the last hurdle. They’ll be upset and pissed, but not as much as they’d be if they found out how long it had been my intention to back down.”

  He lifted his brows. “Sounds like a good plan.”

  “It’s not a plan I intend to put into action until the Moores confirm they’ll keep my cooperation quiet.”

  “They’ll be willing to do that.”

  “Call them. Ask. I’m not saying a word until I have their agreement.”

  He picked up his cell phone. “You’ll trust their word? They might not stick to their end of this bargain.”

  “If they don’t, I can always change my mind again at the hearing. This is their one and only chance to gain my cooperation. They can take it or leave it.”

  Colt swiped his thumb over the screen of his cell and then sank into his chair. “Hey, Ezra. I think you’ll be rather interested to hear who’s sitting opposite me right
now. Gwen Miller.” Colt told him about her offer, advised him to take the deal. Then he held out the phone. “He’d like to speak with you, Gwen.”

  She took the phone and, not bothering to greet the asshole on the other end of the line, simply said, “What?”

  “I must admit,” began Ezra, sounded smug as fuck, “you took longer than I thought to fold—”

  “I’m not folding, Moore,” she snapped. “I’m not doing this for, because of, or out of fear of you. You’re really not as special as you seem to think you are, so tone down the narcissism a little bit. I’m repaying a debt that I owe to someone else. But that arrogant tone of yours is pissing me off enough to reconsider just how important that debt is.”

  There was a long pause, and she could almost sense him backing down. “I’ll agree to keep your cooperation quiet,” he said finally in a businesslike voice, all trace of smugness gone.

  “Then it’s a deal.”

  “It is. Take care, Miss Miller.”

  She handed the phone back to Colt. “Ready when you are.”

  He led her into a plain, basic interview room. The hard, plastic chair was as uncomfortable as they came, but she didn’t let her discomfort show.

  “Would you like a coffee?” asked Colt. It was a genuine offer.

  “No.” She rolled back her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with.” She gave him a statement that corroborated Andie’s second one, said that she couldn’t be sure that Brandt hadn’t simply stumbled upon a hurt and bruised Andie, and that it was possible that he’d even been trying to help her.

  After they were done, Colt walked with her to the reception area. “You did the right thing, Gwen. It’s not easy to back down. And it takes strength to back down from people you despise. You did the right thing.”

  “Not the right thing.”

  “The smart thing.”

  Outside, Gwen headed straight to the SUV and slid onto the rear passenger seat. No sooner had she shut the door than Zander pulled her to his side and gave her a quick kiss.

  “You okay?” he asked, smoothing her bangs out of her face.

  “Better now that I’m out of there.” Even better now that they were driving away.

  Zander massaged her nape. “Did he buy it?”

  “Yep.” Her upper lip curled. “Ezra sounded like the cat that got the cream.”

  Riding shotgun, Bracken twisted to look at her. “The lie will keep you safe.”

  “For a while,” she said. “When I blurt out the truth before the council, things will go to shit fast.” Gwen turned to Zander. “You sure you want to stick around for that? Ow!” She rubbed at her scalp, scowling at the asshole for pulling her hair.

  Zander put his face close to hers. “Then don’t ask stupid, bullshit questions. I’ll be at your side the entire fucking time.”

  “So will I,” said Bracken.

  “And me,” added Ally.

  Derren glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Me too, Gwen.”

  She swallowed hard. Their show of support might have been partly for Andie, but it still touched Gwen. Still meant a lot to her. She gave a nod of thanks, speechless.

  Back at the house, she went upstairs, intending to take a relaxing bath. Zander followed her into her room and helped her undress. Somehow, they ended up in bed instead of the bath. Still, the result was the same—the tension left her muscles, and her mood lifted.

  Afterward, as they lay in bed watching TV, Zander said, “You know, for someone who spends a lot of her time cleaning, you have a surprisingly messy room.”

  Snuggled into his side, Gwen shrugged one shoulder. “I’m a rebel that way.”

  The sound of the floorboards creaking above them made him frown. The person who stayed up there was constantly a noisy bastard. He knew none of his pack mates were up there. “Is that Marlon’s room?”

  “No, he’s down the hall.”

  “Yvonne’s?”

  “Nope. Her room is near his.”

  Unease slithered down Zander’s spine. Snorting at his body’s dumb reaction, he picked up the remote. “I’m turning over.”

  “Hey! I want to see which pack she chooses!”

  He sighed at her. “You do know that this movie is nothing like real life for shifters, don’t you? The pack dynamics, the mating bonds—the scriptwriters got it all wrong.”

  Gwen rested her chin on his chest. “What are mating bonds like? I know they’re metaphysical and stuff, but that’s pretty much it.”

  “I can’t really know what they feel like. I’ve never had one. I can only tell you what others have told me. A mating bond connects you to someone on a level that nothing else will. It’s intense. Powerful. It allows you to feel your mate. Feel their emotions, their pain. You can use the link to bolster their strength by pushing energy down the bond. Your scent mixes with theirs and becomes one unique scent. And if one dies, it’s very hard for the other to survive the breaking of the bond. But I’m told that the bond is special enough to be worth the risk.”

  Zander wished she was ready to hear that he believed she was his mate, but his gut told him to keep quiet for now. He continued, “Most mated couples I’ve come across seem happy and stable. The pairs balance each other out, accept each other for who they are, and seem content in a way I can’t imagine ever feeling. I guess you’d have to experience the bond for yourself to really know.”

  Gwen gave him a faint smile, unable to suppress a twinge of envy. She wasn’t a soppy person, but she did like the idea of predestined mates—thought it was a beautiful thing. “Has anyone ever told you what it feels like for the mating bond to form?” she asked, relaxing as he ran his fingers through her hair.

  “I’ve heard it hurts at first, but then the pain gives way to a sort of euphoric sense of peace. It usually takes certain steps for a mating bond to fully snap into place. First, the couple has to be open enough to each other to sense the bond. Only after they’ve overcome certain obstacles will the bond strengthen and their scents mix. But they still need to be absolutely solid before the mating bond’s complete and fully working.”

  “Must be nice to know you’ll have that one day.”

  “Not sure I’ll make a good mate.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “I know myself, Gwen. I know I’m intense, even for a shifter. I know I’m shit at connecting with people and have all kinds of issues.” He figured it was only fair that he warn her. “I was harsh on you that night at the boardwalk, so I’m sure you’ve noticed that I also lack in the empathy department. I’m not good at understanding people’s problems or seeing their point of view. It doesn’t make me a great confidant or partner—people can get upset when they don’t think you appreciate how bad their situation is or how they’re feeling.”

  Given all she’d learned about him, Gwen didn’t think it was all that surprising that he struggled to connect with people or that his ability to trust was all fucked-up. She instinctively knew that he wouldn’t be an easy mate. In fact, she doubted he was familiar with love or emotional expression. But she also knew he was someone who’d always be there for the people he cared for, no matter what. Someone who’d be unwaveringly loyal. That was pure gold for a woman like Gwen, so she didn’t doubt that there would be other females out there who’d feel the same way.

  She jabbed her finger into his chest. “You’re not the bad catch you seem to think you are. You have plenty of good qualities. Lots of people have issues. I don’t think I’ve ever met a single person who doesn’t. If your mate turns out to be a fussy bitch who can’t accept you for who you are, fuck her—she doesn’t deserve you.”

  She deserved him just fine, Zander thought. Suited him perfectly. Would complete him in a way that words would never explain. Although he hadn’t sensed she was his mate on even a subconscious level before Ally knocked some sense into him, there had always been that primal warning of danger around Gwen. Now, he understood it. Zander didn’t like vulnerabilities, and he’d instinctively known th
at she could become one. Known that she could become an addiction. Addictions fucked with a person’s self-control, and Zander needed control. He just needed Gwen more.

  He dragged her on top of him. “You do realize that this—you and me—won’t come to an end once the trial’s over, don’t you?”

  Gwen stilled, though her heart slammed against her ribs. It hadn’t been a flippant remark. There was a fierce determination in both his tone and expression. “You have a pack to go back to.”

  “I didn’t say I’d leave the pack.”

  “Long-distance relationships are hard. Putting in the effort when it’s just a long-distance fling seems pointless.”

  He lightly tapped her ass. “We both know this is more than a fling. I told you last night, you matter to me.”

  “Well, this can’t be anything other than a fling. I’m not your mate.”

  His wolf snapped his teeth at that remark. “How do you know?”

  She spluttered. “Because . . . I’d know.”

  “Would you? I already told you, the frequency of the bond can be blocked by lots of things. I’m not saying you are my mate.” But his wolf urged him to do so. “I’m just making the point that it makes no sense to end something good on the premise that I should be waiting for a mate that could be lying right on top of me. A mate that could have walked past me yesterday or bumped into me another day. I’ve told you before, Gwen, I’m not going to spend my life searching for someone I may never recognize as my mate.”

  She went to sit up, but Zander wrapped his arm around her to pin her in place. “I like what we have, Gwen. You like what we have. Why end it without a good reason? Do you have a good reason?”

  Gwen licked her lips. She could point out that she was a pain in the ass, that he could have any woman he wanted, that surely a shifter would suit him better. But she said, “No.” She made a big deal out of him being nosy and pushy, but she really didn’t mind it so much—she just pushed right back, stood her ground, snorted at his nonnegotiable tone. The truth was that Zander was exactly her type. Loyal, trustworthy, honest, sexily assertive. He listened, paid attention. He was also an absolute rock star in bed. The kind of person who’d leave a mark wherever he went.