Wolf's Secret (Alpha's Hunger Book 2)

by Carina Wilder

  He shook his head. “No, no,” he said, his voice eerily calm and soft, “I wasn’t. I was never a father, my love.”

  Through burning tears I glared at him. Was he being cryptic as always? Was this some meagre attempt to settle me down before tearing out my heart one last time?

  “What do you mean by that?” I asked, trying in vain to still my quivering voice.

  “Demarche sent Elodie away to France. He wanted to hide the shame of the pregnancy from New Orleans society. I never saw her again. I was never her husband, never a father to any child. None of it.”

  I hated myself for the sense of relief that swept over my heart in that moment. “What happened to her?” I asked.

  “They told me she died in childbirth,” he said. “They said the baby didn’t make it, either.”

  He reached out to me again but pulled his hand back. He probably knew that I wasn’t ready to be touched, not yet. So he sat down on the floor, wrapping his forearms around his knees. The pose was oddly innocent, like that of a frightened boy. “I was young and stupid, Ariana,” he murmured. “I did something monumentally foolish and I paid for it—so did she. I’m so sorry that the truth had to come out like this. I wish to God I could take it back—all of it—but I can’t. All I’ve wanted since the day I first set eyes on you was to forget the past and work at being the man that you deserve. I never wanted to hurt you.”

  I swallowed a sob and told myself that it was time to move past this. Time to accept, to forgive, to understand what he’d been through.

  Enough distance. Enough pain.

  When I held my hand out to him, he took it and squeezed, and for the first time, I felt like the gulf between us was truly narrowing into something that we could both learn to endure.

  “Thank you for telling me,” I said, wiping my right cheek with the back of my hand. “I wish I could say I’m not shocked, devastated, even…but I know how hard that must have been for you, telling me the truth. You could have hidden it, probably forever. But you didn’t.” I looked into his amazing eyes, a sense of shame overtaking me for judging him so harshly. “You opened up to me, Tristan. That means everything.”

  He inhaled deep. “I wanted to tell you, of course. But it was so long ago. It didn’t seem relevant to our lives now. I suppose I’d pushed it out of my mind like I’ve done so many times, with so many memories.”

  “Tristan, there’s one more thing,” I said. Best to finish this now, then maybe we could let it go forever. “There’s something else I need to know. It’s about how you…how you were changed.”

  “Mmmm?”

  “What happened with Demarche and the Marquis?”

  “You mean…”

  I nodded. “The night when the journal ends. When the Marquis came for you.”

  Tristan scratched his fingertips through his beard and scowled, like the memory that was now surfacing in his mind was enough to stir up a deep-set rage. But he answered, apparently as determined as I was to put the past to rest. “The Marquis bound me to a tree. At first I thought we were alone, but then I saw the reflection of torches around us—many of them, coming from every direction. There were men all around me. I didn’t know where they’d come from; only that they were there to watch. It seemed like an eternity before I actually heard Demarche’s voice.”

  “He asked the Marquis for the whip,” I said. “I remember.”

  Tristan nodded. “Yes, and he got it. The Marquis never denied his boss anything.”

  I swallowed hard, recalling the feel of Tristan’s scars under my touch. “So Demarche was the one who…beat you?”

  My lover nodded. “I’ll never forget the agony of it. The bite of the whip was like fire on my flesh. I tried not to yell, to let them know my suffering, but before any time had passed it became too much to stand. I cried out, howled, screamed for my brother, for my God, for anyone who could help me. I couldn’t understand why I was being punished so cruelly, all because I’d wanted a better life. All because I’d dared to dream.”

  “Where was Krane? Why didn’t he help you?”

  Tristan sealed his lips shut. “He’ll have to answer that question himself someday,” he said.

  So, his brother had abandoned him in his time of greatest need. That explained a lot, but not everything.

  “I’m so sorry,” I murmured. “I wish I could have taken all your pain away.”

  “I know,” he said. “I know you do. But let me finish, then we don’t ever need to speak of this again, all right?”

  I nodded.

  “When Demarche had turned my back into a raw series of wounds, he loosened the rope, flipped me around, pressed me against the tree and lashed at my front until I collapsed into a heap. I think that’s when I passed out from the pain.”

  The image was so vivid in my mind that I wanted to be sick. “Did they…” I swallowed, choking back a sob. “Did they leave you to die?”

  Tristan shook his head. “They waited until I came to. I thought I was dreaming. The pain was so awful that I was all but numb, so I thought my mind was playing games when I saw the lights flickering through the darkness all around me. At first I thought they were more torches, but I realized after a time that they were sets of eyes, all of them advancing on me. Wolves. Wolves, of all things, in the bayou of Louisiana. I thought I’d gone completely insane.”

  “You hadn’t, though,” I said. “You know what you saw.”

  “I know now, yes,” he replied. “What I saw was the Marquis’ pack. But back then I thought I’d walked straight into Hell, and the wolves were the demons who’d come to steal my soul away. I’ll never forget the sound of Demarche’s voice in that moment.”

  “What did he say to you?”

  “To me?” Tristan’s eyes brightened, his wolf showing himself to me. “He didn’t say it to me. He said it to the Marquis. Two simple words: Do it.” Tristan shuddered hard, and I had to fight back the desire to hold him. “The Marquis moved closer. The eyes all around me—those terrible, cruel eyes—they remained fixed on me. Waiting, watching. Spectators to the event that would corrupt me forever.”

  “What did Demarche mean, do it?” I asked.

  “He was commanding the Marquis to change me. While I lay there, bleeding, suffering, a hundred wounds open on my flesh. Instead of letting me die, he chose to stretch out my torment. He knew that the Marquis’ bite would prolong the agony I was enduring for far longer than I should have had to suffer.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “That bite—the one that the Marquis inflicted on me—it killed Tristan Leclair, and Tristan Wolfe was born. Demarche had seen to it that I would live a long life, that my scars would become a permanent part of my body. A gruesome, eternal reminder that I had defied the man who’d once put his faith in me.”

  “But he wasn’t a good man!” I cried out. “He was evil. Cruel. You never deserved what happened to you.”

  “No, I didn’t. To be honest, I think the Marquis had always wanted an excuse to go after me.” He turned my way. “You do know why they call him that, don’t you?”

  I shook my head.

  “After the Marquis de Sade,” he said. “The most famous inflictor of pain who ever lived. A man who tortured for sport.”

  My jaw tightened at the thought of a wolf shifter whose sole intent was to harm others. How could anyone be so cruel, so calculating? But I thought back to the previous night when we’d seen him standing on the sidewalk. I recalled the man’s cold eyes staring at us. The strange, feral aura that surrounded him in the southern heat.

  The Marquis wasn’t a man, not like Tristan was.

  He was a beast.

  A chill passed over my flesh, sending the hairs on my arms standing on end.

  “Listen,” Tristan said, rising to his feet. The color had returned to his face, his demeanor altering in an instant. Apparently now that he’d released his demons, he was ready to move on, and I envied him his ability to recover quickly. “Your friend Clarissa’s wedding is
coming up in a couple of weeks.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth to speak. “Don’t talk to me about how we have no future. We have a very long one ahead of us, and we should plan on being at the wedding, damn it. In the meantime, I think we should make our way back to New York and relax. Get things back to normal. This has been a pretty intense few days.”

  “You’re telling me,” I nodded. He was right, it would be best to get away from this place. I wanted nothing more than to forget about shadows, about the Seven, about the supposed curse they’d inflicted on him. I wanted all the darkness to disappear from our lives.

  We needed to give ourselves the shot at happiness that we deserved.

  It was time to go home.

  Epilogue

  The next two weeks in Manhattan passed without incident. It was almost as if the New Orleans madness had never happened. Not once did Krane make an appearance in our lives. I didn’t hear the word “seven” uttered by a single person, at least not with regard to dragon shifters threatening to rip my lover’s throat out. For a little while, I managed to feel like a normal human being.

  In the moments when I realized that I’d finally gotten over my insecurities about our relationship, I felt at peace. I even felt some hope for the future. Maybe the Seven had forgotten their alleged curse. Or maybe they just didn’t care anymore, didn’t see Tristan as a threat like they once had.

  Whatever the case, the tension had finally stripped away from my mind and body.

  Things were definitely looking up.

  The evening before we were to leave for Chicago for Clarissa’s wedding, Tristan took me out for dinner to Monteverdi, one of the most expensive restaurants in Manhattan. He’d been unusually attentive lately, buying me flowers, sending me for spa treatments and on shopping sprees. It wasn’t unusual for him to spend money on me, but still, I wanted to know what was going on with him. He was being so…normal.

  “Okay, Tristan,” I said, glancing around skeptically when we’d stepped inside the restaurant. “What’s this all about?” I’d dressed in a silver, slinky number that I’d bought on a spending extravaganza he’d set up for me in Bloomingdale’s. Draped around my neck was the pearl strand that he’d given me in New Orleans. I was starting to feel at home in New York’s high society, though I still wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted to.

  “What’s what about?” he asked, taking my hand to lead me to a small table in a distant corner. A single candle in a beautiful glass jar sat at its center, illuminating his features in a way that made him look both sexy and strikingly mischievous at once. When we’d sat down, he pulled my hand across the table and kissed my knuckles one by one, his eyes fixed on my own. “Can’t I spoil you a little?”

  I let out a chuckle. “You’ve been spoiling me a lot,” I said. “Like an insane amount. Flowers, gifts, dinners…it doesn’t seem entirely like the Tristan Wolfe I know. This is more like guilty boyfriend territory. Have you done something horrible that you’re scared to tell me about? Because I thought all our secrets were out in the open.”

  “Ah,” he replied, pulling his hand away and leaning back, a cynical grin making its way along his lips. “You think I’m up to something.”

  “Um, yeah. Of course I do. You’re acting like a man who’s trying to convince his lover that he hasn’t been a total butt-weasel.”

  “Hmm. How about an innocent man? One who’s maybe been keeping something to himself for a little while?” he asked. “A man who’s just trying to get all his ducks in a row?”

  “Oh my God,” I said. “This is your way of telling me you bought water fowl, isn’t it?”

  Tristan laughed. “If you want ducks, you’ll have them,” he said. “But no, that’s definitely not what I’m telling you.”

  I shook my head, my loose bun threatening to tumble free of its tenuous hold. “I don’t want them anyhow. I don’t think aquatic birds and the penthouse are compatible.”

  “Well, then, I’ll have to give you something else.” With that, he tucked his left hand into his jacket pocket.

  “Oh great. More secrets,” I laughed, though something told me that this would be one that I might actually enjoy.

  Tristan pulled his hand out of his pocket and set something small and square on the table. When he pulled away, my eyes met the sight of a dark red jewelry box.

  My heart started beating fast, excitement all but crippling me. Could it be? Was it even possible that such a tiny container held the promise of a life I’d hardly dared dream of?

  I was paralyzed, unable to move, to think, to breathe.

  “What…is…it?” I asked, my breath coming in gasps. It had to be earrings. Or a pendant. Or something very logical and very practical. Right?

  There was no way it could possibly be a ring.

  “Open it,” he said, his voice low, seductive, perfect.

  “Cruel man,” I replied. “Just tell me…”

  He took my left hand in his right, gently rubbing his thumb over my skin. “I’ve been thinking that your poor ring finger looks very naked lately,” he said. “Not that I have a problem with any part of you lacking clothing. Still, I thought maybe you could use some adornment.”

  “Stop teasing me, Tristan,” I gasped. “Are you saying—doing—what I think you’re saying and doing?”

  He went silent and stared at me with his chin down, a sly smile conveying everything that words never could.

  I reached over and took the box in hand, prying it open slowly. By now I knew exactly what must be inside. But nothing could have prepared my heart for the shock of the glistening, massive stone that greeted my eyes.

  The diamond was round, huge, surrounded by a circle of smaller red stones. Rubies, I thought. It made sense, given Tristan’s love of crimson.

  But it didn’t matter to me what the ring looked like. Nothing mattered except for what it symbolized. He could have handed me a ring with a candy center that had been half-eaten and I would have felt just as happy.

  “Marry me,” he said softly.

  I opened my mouth, ready for the word Yes to soar out into the air. I wanted to jump up, to shriek, to let out a loud squee sound that would draw glares from every single diner in the restaurant.

  But instead, I dropped the small box as if its touch had burned my fingertips. Like the cruel jab of a knife’s tip, a sudden rush of memory came to me. I could all but hear Madame Lola’s voice. Those cursed by the Seven are not allowed to marry a mortal. To do so is to ensure their own death.

  Maybe Tristan didn’t think the Seven were a threat anymore. But I couldn’t risk it.

  There was too much at stake.

  “I can’t,” I said, pulling back. “I can’t.” I stared at the table, unable to meet Tristan’s eyes for fear that I’d change my mind the moment I looked at him.

  “What are you talking about? Of course you can,” he said. “I thought you…”

  “You thought I loved you,” I said softly.

  “Yes, I suppose I did.”

  “I do love you.” I summoned the courage to pull my eyes up to his. “Tristan, I love you more than anything in this world.”

  A look of relief swept over his face. “Then why would you say no?”

  “Because of what I learned in New Orleans,” I said. “ I was told that the rules of the Seven prohibit you from marrying a mortal.”

  His jaw set in a grimace, and I knew the words had hit home. “The Seven are of no consequence to you or to me,” he said.

  “But you’re not denying it,” I told them. “You’re not denying that you’re putting a target on your own back.”

  “I’m not. But there’s something you don’t know. The morning when you went to my old house in Louisiana, I never did tell you who I went to talk to.”

  I looked at him questioningly. “No,” I said, “I suppose you didn’t.” We’d been too preoccupied with everything else to discuss the meeting that I’d all but forgotten he had.

  “It was a man who works for the Seven,�
�� he said. “As a sort of intermediary.”

  “A shifter?”

  Tristan nodded. “I told him that I would be willing to make a deal with them. Let’s just say I made them an offer they can’t refuse.”

  In spite of any doubt that remained, I mustered a smile. “Really?” I asked. “You mean they went for it?”

  “Not yet. But he assured me that his leader would accept. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a done deal.”

  “What was the offer?” I asked.

  A shake of his impossibly handsome head. “Nothing but business from my end. From theirs, the promise that they would leave you and me alone to live our lives in peace.”

  I could all but feel my heart expand in my chest, and began to wonder if it was possible to explode from joy.

  “Really?” I whimpered, too overwhelmed to speak properly.

  “Yes, really. You and I will be together for the rest of our lives, Ariana. Trust me on that. That is, if you agree to spend forever with me.”

  With the word forever came a new wave of sadness. There was no forever for a mortal like me. I had a few decades on this earth, that was all. If I was lucky I’d live to be ninety, but by then I’d shrivel and become decrepit like all humans did, while Tristan stayed young, strong, and sexy as he’d been the day we’d met. I didn’t even care about wrinkles so much; it was the thought of losing him slowly that made me want to cry. Of fading to a shadow while he stayed whole by my side.

  “You mean until I die,” I replied. “I’m just a human, remember?”

  “Then forget about forever. All I want is to be with you as long as you live. Quite honestly, I have no interest in inhabiting this world beyond that.” He reached out for my hand, and I gave it to him. “I love you, Ariana. You are my life.”

  With those words the tears came freely, streaming down my cheeks. How could I possibly push him away? How could I ever say no?

  “Marry me,” he said again, the hint of a plea in his voice.