by Hettie Ivers
“Because”—she raised her fork—“he’s hunting for the fabled Rogue who will beget all rogues. They’re searching for the Rogue.”
I was unable to stifle my groan. “Another prophecy?” I guessed.
She nodded and rolled her eyes in commiseration, before going on to reveal the werewolf legend about a mythical Rogue, the prophesied firstborn of a new and errant breed of werewolf, whose rise to power, it was foretold, would herald the extinction of the human race.
Awesome. I needed more good news today.
“Prophecy says that a rogue werewolf will come to be that is unique from all other rogues before it,” she imparted, “and that this fabled Rogue will be capable of long-term survival on its own in a manner in which no other rogue was ever successful before.”
“So it won’t go mad just because it’s a loner?”
“No. It will require absolutely no communion with others and will suffer no ill effect for lack of it.”
“Why does that have to be a bad thing? Maybe it’ll just be a shy, hermit-type and keep to itself,” I proposed hopefully. “Why do they assume it’ll destroy humankind?”
She laughed without humor and gave me a look that said I had a lot to learn about this new world I didn’t want any part of. “It is also prophesied that the Rogue will be consumed by the darkest of forces. That its power will be unbeatable, its reign of terror on the world unstoppable.”
We fell silent as Guadalupe resumed her meal. It was all too much to contemplate. Even harder to fathom Raul ever wanting to be a part of such awful missions.
I decided to change the subject and tell her about what Kai had brought up about his deceased mate while doing my blood draw—omitting the fact that he’d “brought it up” only because I’d gotten so aroused by his presence that I’d boldly inquired after his availability.
Guadalupe’s eyes lit with excitement, and she needed no further provocation from me to dish the goods on Kai. She confirmed Kai was indeed the anomaly, divulging that he’d been completely celibate since his wife Maribel’s passing—which was now going on a century!
She said Alcaeus had long ago taken to referring to Kai as the pack’s priest and that most of the pack thought of him as asexual, treating him as if he were a eunuch at this point—explaining why Alex and Alcaeus trusted him above all other male members of the pack to look after me.
Her eyes took on a dreamy quality as she confessed she’d had a secret crush on Kai for a good part of her adult life, and that it was her staunch opinion he was an “autosexual” rather than an “asexual.”
Autosexual? “What’s an autosexual?”
“An autosexual practices self-love,” she informed me, “choosing self-gratification over sexual activity with others. Whereas an asexual is viewed as not having a sex drive at all.”
Huh.
“I happen to know for a fact Kai is the former rather than the latter,” she boasted, a self-satisfied smirk dominating her features as she stabbed her last bite of steak.
I took the bait. “How?”
“For one, I know a woman who made out with him forty-eight years ago,” she disclosed, her eyes dancing with mischief. “And for two, he was sporting a major stiffy as he bolted from your bedroom this afternoon.”
My eyes flew wide and I channeled my late Great-Aunt Felicia. “No way!”
“Way!” she cackled.
I blushed and stuttered that perhaps she hadn’t seen what she thought she saw.
She snorted. “I know a stiffy when I see one.”
I chose to switch topics rather than discuss Kai’s supposed erection any further. I told her what Kai had said to me about not allowing the blood curse to change me.
“What do you suppose he meant by that?”
She quirked one brow and slid her empty plate aside. “Do you not remember launching several old-ass werelocks through walls this morning?”
“Oh … that.” I cleared my throat. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll clean up the mess.”
“Please,”—she waved a flippant hand—“like I give two fucks. Most of the repairs were made before you even awoke from your nap. I’m referring to how easy it was for you to get swept up in your rage. Am I right? I’ll wager you barely noticed the destruction you were causing until it was too late?”
I nodded, ashamed of my actions. I’d never been a violent person before. “Will you tell me what you know about the blood curse?”
I’d learned enough from my brief time with Guadalupe to know she knew far more than she likely ever let on to most. And while she hadn’t yet shared her full history with me, I knew that she’d come to live as part of the Reinoso pack at the age of sixteen, that she’d been friends with Mateus, and that she’d been close to Hector in his final two years of life.
She sighed, hesitating a moment. “Joaquin meant for his blood to protect you, that I do know. But let’s face it, he was also a man just a little bit”—she raised her brows and her pitch as she made the classic cuckoo gesture next to her head—“demented by grief, not to mention driven by bloodthirsty vengeance, when he designed this great blood curse of his.”
I cringed as her meaning sank in. Lord, she was right! I’d inherited the machinations of a madman.
“A curse dressed in noble intentions is still at heart a curse.” She took my hand in hers across the table and turned it palm up, running her fingertips along the underside of my wrist up my forearm.
“It is a dark, dark magic that runs through your veins now, Miles. And it will consume you.” Her piercing green eyes searched my features, gauging my comprehension. “It will use you,” she stressed, “to exact the revenge it is naturally inclined to seek. If you let it.”
My stomach dropped through the floor. I had felt it—the foreign, yet familiar pain; the ancient beast of fury that begged to be unleashed to exact its vengeance. It was the elemental force behind the curse. Driving it. Feeding it.
“It’s the very last thing Hector would have wanted for you.” Her eyes softened with sadness, crinkling at the corners. “That I also know. Your grandfather saw his family torn apart. Literally. By those Salvatella savages,” she hissed. “He witnessed firsthand what greed and hatred bore, and he wanted no part of it. He wanted peace.”
She took both of my hands between hers, squeezing them together. “He wanted all the hate to die with Joaquin, not be resurrected through a blood curse to live on in perpetuity through his grandbabies.”
But it was too late. The curse was within me now. I could sense it. Lurking within the darkest corners of my psyche. Waiting. Wanting.
“But what can I do? I tried to give it away. Alcaeus won’t keep it. Neither will Alex or Remy. I can’t understand why none of them will just take it from me if they love power so much. I don’t even want it!”
“Honey, it’s a part of you now. It lives and dies with you. There’s no way to give it away.”
“But there has to be a way,” I argued. “There’s always a way!”
“No.” She shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak, then paused, her eyes darting around the room. When she spoke again, her voice was a whisper. “Joaquin told Hector he fashioned this curse to ensure that it could never be taken from him or his progeny. Never.”
Her eyes flashed meaningfully. “There’s not a werelock alive who can take it from you, Miles. That’s why Hector didn’t want any of his kin turned. He knew it would unleash the curse, and that the curse would then remain within his lineage forever.”
“But I don’t want to change! Not like that. I don’t want to be consumed by anger and hate.”
“Then don’t let it change you,” she stated simply, very much as Kai had, as if it were a no-brainer. “Use the blood curse to your advantage. Use it for protection, for the noble purpose Joaquin convinced himself it would serve. Don’t allow it to use you.”
“But what if I can’t? What if I can’t control it?”
“You can. You will.” She gave my hands one final squeez
e, a sad smile gracing her lips. “You’re not the grandchild of Hector I worry about.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alcaeus returned to the house late in the evening. Shortly thereafter, Alex came by to personally deliver my things. It was a little disconcerting how positively thrilled my inner wolf was to scent him. But even more disturbing was the realization of how excited I was to see him.
Along with my belongings, Alex brought me a new iPhone and gave me his number so that I could call him, should I need anything. To my surprise, he said I could use the phone to place international calls as well, in case there was anyone I wanted to get in touch with back home. My mind was soon racing, pondering whom to contact first and questioning why they would allow me free access to call anyone I wanted to in the first place.
But then it dawned on me—what on earth would I say? Who would believe any of it? More to the point, who could help me, anyway? Did I even want to be saved?
I was presently dependent upon Alcaeus to manage my transformation, and beyond that, the Reinosos were now my only protection against the Salvatellas. I’d essentially been backed into a corner, forced to side with the lesser of two evil werelock clans.
Ultimately, I decided I’d at least use the phone to check my own cell messages, and to call my best friend, Bethany, tomorrow, as I’d promised to check in with her when she’d dropped me off at San José International Airport a week ago.
Alex and I were alone in the guest bedroom, and I stood closer than was probably necessary as I watched him key his number, along with Alessandra's, into my contacts, under the guise of not knowing exactly how an iPhone worked, my current cell phone being an older Samsung model. I had an iPad though—so it wasn’t as if I was an Apple virgin.
Not for the first time, I noted he had very nicely formed, strong hands and long fingers. I flushed remembering the way those tanned hands had felt massaging my breasts earlier that morning in the gardens.
Jesus, it was as if my mind was only capable of returning to thoughts of depravity lately! It had been gradually doing so more and more, all day long.
Feeling unsteady on my feet, I swayed, and my shoulder brushed up against his bicep. I shamelessly inhaled his scent into my lungs, closing my eyes to fully relish its hypnotic decadence. When I opened my eyes, I belatedly realized he’d stopped explaining the features of the phone and was staring down the side of his shoulder at me, his expression unreadable.
“Sorry,” I murmured, allowing my heavily lidded eyes to feast upon his stunning appearance. He was wearing a button-down shirt and dress slacks, and while this was more clothing than my pervy she-wolf wanted to see him in, he looked undeniably sophisticated—positively gorgeous—dressed as he was.
“Don’t be.” He drew in a long, steady inhale of his own, his eyes darkening to black as he brazenly scented me right back.
After a lengthy, heady pause, he went back to explaining my new phone to me. Once he was satisfied I knew how to contact him, he offered to help me access the Wi-Fi at Alcaeus’ house on my iPad. I got the sense he was just trying to kill as much time as possible with me. And strangely, I was more than okay with it.
As soon as I was connected to the Internet, I plopped down onto the bed and excitedly logged into my email account, a certain giddiness overtaking me at being reconnected with my own world again—if only virtually. Alex offered to help me unpack my things while I checked my emails. I wanted to let him, just to keep him and his scent around a little while longer, but knowing how silly and desperate that would be, I was about to decline his offer when I glanced up to find he’d already begun putting my things away for me. So I thanked him instead.
He smiled and responded with a simple and yet somehow devastatingly sexy, “You are welcome, Milena.”
I sighed, trying to ignore the way the sound of his baritone voice spoke to my nether regions as I set out to sift through my emails. There was a ton of junk mail, six emails from Bethany, a dozen or so more from other friends, two from my mom’s estate attorney, and two from the lady I’d recently been in contact with at the bank after I could no longer afford my mom’s mortgage payments.
A sense of dread settled in the pit of my stomach, but I opened the bank emails first. Though it would suck, after everything else I’d lost and all the heartache I’d encountered since coming to Brazil, I knew losing my childhood home to foreclosure was the very least of my problems right now.
It was with great confusion that I read and reread the first bank email, confirming that they had received my wire from Bank of Brazil, satisfying in full the balance due on my mortgage. The second email included an attachment, an executed Satisfaction of Mortgage, officially acknowledging that the mortgage had been paid in full and was no longer a lien on the property. The email text indicated that the document would be recorded shortly with the County Recorder of Deeds, and a copy of the recorded document sent to me for my records, in order to fully clear the title of the property, which was now in my name, as sole owner. I blinked and reread the emails.
“Why?” I questioned aloud as Alex returned from storing my emptied suitcase in the closet. “Why would you do this? There’s no way I can pay you back. Why would you do this?” I asked, tears forming in my eyes.
He looked both startled and dismayed. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“My house. You paid off my mom’s house! The mortgage balance was well over four hundred thousand dollars, Alex. Why would you do this?”
He shook his head. He looked puzzled. “I didn’t—”
“He didn’t do it to upset you, Milena,” Alcaeus said, waltzing into the bedroom and jumping right into our disjointed half conversation. “He just didn’t want you to have to worry about losing your family home while dealing with everything else you have on your plate right now.”
Alex frowned at his brother. “I didn’t pay off—”
“He didn’t want you to know it was him,” Alcaeus explained to me, once again cutting off his little brother, who appeared more perplexed than ever. “And he wouldn’t think of you ever repaying him one single penny. Count it as recompense for all of his awful behavior toward you,” Alcaeus suggested with a broad grin.
Alex scowled at his brother. “Just what the fuck—”
“I assured him you wouldn’t be mad, Milena,” Alcaeus interrupted Alex again, giving me a pleading look. “C’mon”—he waved a dismissive hand—“you know he sucks ass at apologizing. Consider this Alex’s attempt at a long-overdue apology,” Alcaeus said, emphasizing the last three words with a raised brow to his brother. “Besides,” he said brightly, “the arrogant fucker is loaded anyway, so it’s barely the beginnings of a decent apology, as I see it.”
“Alcaeus?” Alex gave his grinning brother a meaningful glare.
Alcaeus held his hands up, backing himself out of the open bedroom door. “Hey, the funds came out of your bank account, little bro. Time to man up and take responsibility for your more redeeming actions.”
Alex rolled his eyes before scrubbing a hand over his tired face, chuckling without humor. He seemed at a loss.
I didn’t know what to say either. So I just stared at him, waiting for him to speak first. He appeared so thoroughly flustered, so oddly embarrassed by the situation. Had he really expected I wouldn’t guess it had been him when the funds were wired from Bank of Brazil?
“Alcaeus is right … that you don’t … you don’t owe me anything, Milena.” His speech was awkward, stilted.
Crap. He was completely adorable when he got all nervous and tongue-tied.
“I don’t want you to be upset by this … or to feel beholden to me in any way for it. Do you … do you understand?” He cocked his head, regarding me through squinted, anxious eyes.
I couldn’t speak. This was possibly the most endearing he’d ever been, and I didn’t know how to handle it.
Alex had bought my house for me! And if he’d bought my house for me, didn’t that mean he’d expected at some point that I would go
back to live there?
What’s more, the email from the bank indicated the wire had been received last Friday, the very day after my arrival, which could only mean he hadn’t truly planned on keeping me hostage here forever after all. Right?
He’d actually intended all along to let me go home at some point! For some bizarre reason, that knowledge both relieved and saddened me.
“Al is wrong … in that this isn’t meant to forgive anything.” He tugged at the back of his neck, his flushed face angled toward the ceiling. “I just … I would never try to buy your forgiveness like that. Not really my style.”
In truth, it wasn’t his style to seek forgiveness, period. But I chose not to voice that thought. Instead, I tossed my iPad aside atop the bed and darted across the room to him before I lost my nerve. Straining up on tiptoe, I managed to just peck the side of his chin before backing up several safe paces.
The expression on his face was priceless. He looked shocked. And outrageously pleased—like I’d just gifted him ten houses rather than a simple peck on the chin.
“Thanks. For the iPhone, for unpacking my things … for helping me connect to the Internet … and for …”—my shoulder self-consciously crept up to my ear—“for buying me the house I grew up in.”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
A crazy fit of emotional, almost maniacal laughter overtook me then. My mom had killed herself over the years trying to hold onto that stupid house. It was so much more than nothing.
“You’re such an asshole. It’s hardly nothing, Alex.”
His eyes instantly flew wide, and his face fell. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know, I know,” I stopped him. “I didn’t mean it like that either. I just …” I exhaled, “I hate how you can be such a dick … and then turn around and be so sweet.”
“Milena, I’m s—”
“But I can’t hate you,” I confessed, rolling watery eyes at my own bold and foolish admission. “Part of me feels like the world’s greatest imbecile for that. And yet I can’t stop believing that somehow you’re capable of being so much … more … so much … better … than who you’ve been.”
