by MJ Compton
“Let me see.”
Abby turned her head as Granny moved the lamp and peered at the spot Abby indicated.
“I don’t see anything.”
“It burns,” Abby explained.
Granny brushed the fragile flesh with the tips of her shriveled fingers. “It doesn’t feel warm.”
Abby wished for grace, not fretfulness. She wanted to be poised and in control, but she felt more like she was coming apart at the seams. She reminded herself that she was all Libby had left. If something happened to her, Gary could snatch Libby back, and Abby was not going to let that happen. Luke and his family had no claim on Libby. Gary, as her stepfather, might fight her, but he hadn’t adopted either girl.
Her mother’s will. She needed to do something about that.
Every ache, pain, twinge, and tingle was going to be examined. She had to stay healthy for her sister’s sake.
“Have some more broth,” Granny urged.
Abby couldn’t remember the last time she’d been babied the way Granny was coddling her. Homemade chicken broth, with plenty of dill, the way her mama used to make it. Nasty-tasting herbal tea she would have spit out if Granny hadn’t watched her so closely.
“Do you do a lot of midwifery?” Abby asked, trying to make conversation. She did feel better since Granny had cleaned her up, dressed her in a fresh nightgown, and started coddling her.
Granny studied her for a long minute. “Did Luke talk to you or did he only . . . say goodbye for a really long time?”
Abby’s face heated the way it should have the first time Colette uttered the euphemism.
“Luke isn’t a great conversationalist,” Abby muttered.
“I didn’t think so.” Granny watched her for a few more minutes before speaking again. “I’m not from Loup Garou, either. I’m an outsider, like you. Caused Gramps all sorts of grief, but that’s ancient history. Loup Garou is . . . isolated.”
As if Abby hadn’t noticed.
“The residents tend to keep to themselves. It made sense for me to take my interest in herbs and natural healing and turn it into a way to help the community in a manner it needed to be helped. And that helped them accept me.”
“There are no doctors here?” A frisson of fear skittered along Abby’s nerves.
“No.” Granny didn’t elaborate. “I haven’t lost a mother yet.”
“What about a baby?”
Granny hesitated again. Abby had the distinct impression Granny was choosing what to tell her with a great deal of care and that she was hiding more than she was revealing. “Sometimes babies are conceived that aren’t meant to be born. Sometimes, things can go horribly wrong. That’s not a reflection of my skill as a midwife, but of the nature of life.”
“What if there’s something horribly wrong with my baby?” It was possible. There was no telling what damage Gary’s beating could have caused. And there was her mother’s history of pregnancy disasters.
“Did my grandson inflict those bruises on your belly?”
“No. My stepfather . . . wanted me to miscarry.”
“Was he afraid it was his child?”
“No.” Abby was horrified. “I was a virgin with Luke. But my mother—I told you she had several miscarriages between me and Libby.”
Granny’s penetrating gaze bore into Abby’s eyes like lasers. “I believe you,” she finally said. “If there was something wrong with the babe, that beating might have caused you to lose it. I think all that happened here was my grandson’s enthusiasm for you. If he’s anything at all like his Gramps, he’s a real enthusiastic man.”
Abby didn’t know where to look. She wasn’t used to this kind of blunt talk. Especially about sex.
“My mother had two stillborn babies, too,” Abby said.
“Doesn’t mean you will. I’ll see to that. You need your sleep.” Granny patted Abby’s leg, then picked up the tray resting on Abby’s lap. “You want your strength back for when Luke comes home.”
Abby rubbed the spot on the side of her neck. It felt so weird.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Restin clamped Luke’s shoulder.
The band was done performing for the night. Luke was at the bar with the girl in the pink cowboy hat—Marilla—and her friend Darcy. He was laughing with them, and flirting a little.
“I’m relaxing.” He smiled lazily at his beta. “You ought to try it sometime.”
“Toke wants to move out tonight.” Restin glared at Marilla and Darcy. “He’s married,” he told the girls, snuffing their cheerfulness like a hurricane snuffed a candle.
Then Marilla lifted her chin. “So?”
“So he’s off limits, even if he won’t admit it.”
Luke could not believe Restin was interfering like this. They were hundreds of miles away from Loup Garou. What Abigail didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her or the baby.
“Now, Omega.”
Luke bristled. When the Garniers stripped the status from his grandfather, they’d also stripped him of his last name. His descendants were known as the lowest, reminding everyone he was less than nothing. And now Restin was rubbing it in. Maybe Marilla and Darcy didn’t know “omega” was an insult, and simply thought it was his surname, but Luke knew. And Restin knew Luke knew.
“Sorry, ladies,” he said, feigning regret so his rage wouldn’t take over and maim Restin. “Duty calls.”
The girls flashed identical pouts. Their unrestrained breasts jiggled under their skimpy T-shirts. What he couldn’t do—
Restin yanked him off his barstool. “Tokarz could have sent one of the roadies instead of me,” Restin said in a low voice only Luke could hear.
As if Luke should be grateful. He seethed all the way to the bus. He dug out his laptop and searched for an Internet connection. Nothing. He was too wired to sleep, too pissed to be social.
Tokarz waited until the bus was on the Interstate to inflict round two of Luke shaming. “I realize you have some human blood. I have made excuses for your behavior based on that, even though your half-breed father is an honorable lycan and your human grandmother is a valued member of our pack. No more, Luke. While you travel with this band, you will behave as befitting a werewolf.”
“I’m an unmated werewolf,” Luke said.
“Unmated werewolves don’t go sniffing out sex.”
“What difference does it make?” Luke wasn’t about to confess the meds that had allowed him to impregnate Abigail no longer worked for him. Tokarz might misconstrue the symptom as mating.
“What do you plan to do about your wife?”
Fuck her wouldn’t be an acceptable answer.
“Nothing.” He knew he sounded as sullen as an eight-year-old, but then he was being treated like an eight-year-old.
“What if one of the roadies lets it slip you’re cheating on her?” Tokarz asked.
“Cheating on her? We’re not mates. And nothing happened.”
“You married her in front of a judge. You told her that you would forsake all others,” Restin interjected. “If you go off with another woman, you’re breaking a vow. That’s cheating.”
Luke hadn’t thought of it quite like that before. He hadn’t paid much attention to the sad little ceremony at the county courthouse, to what he’d promised or implied.
“So Abigail finds out you’re a cheat and decides to divorce you.” Tokarz glared at him.
Well, divorce was part of his plan all along. After the baby was born. Or once he found his true mate.
“She could sue you for all sorts of things. And the only asset you have, not counting your cock, is the brewery.”
“The brewery isn’t mine.” He was omega. He had nothing but his cozy cabin.
“You’re a member of the pack. The pack owns the brewer
y. Use your brain, Luke, or do you need a computer to do the math? A slick lawyer could create all sorts of problems. Your quest to get laid is now endangering the entire pack. As pack alpha, it’s my responsibility to make sure that doesn’t happen. Keep your pants zipped. This is the only warning you’ll get.”
“Abigail wouldn’t do something like that,” Luke protested. “She’s a sweet girl.”
“Do you know that for sure?”
Actually, he knew nothing about Abigail. Thinking about her sent his cock twitching, but what did he really know about her morals and ethics?
The bus pulled up to the No-Tell Motel at four in the morning. The band would be playing in a minor league baseball stadium later that night. The high from performing had seeped away through the long night. Most of the band wanted to sleep. Including Ethan, who was Luke’s permanent roommate. Ethan was an old man living in a young body. Luke often tried to engage Ethan in things single human men their age did, but the pureblood Ethan wasn’t interested.
They’d worked things out over the years. Ethan didn’t grouse much if Luke was on his laptop as long as the sound was turned down, Luke used earbuds, didn’t pound the keys, and did what he could to diffuse the light from his screen. Sometimes Hank complained about the noise from the keyboard, but Hank Hawkins had the best hearing of any living werewolf on the planet. He and Stoker, his cousin and roommate, usually stayed as far away from Luke’s room as they could.
Ethan crashed as soon as he hit his sagging twin bed. They didn’t bother turning on the light in the room. They could see well enough to do what they needed to do.
Luke propped his computer on his lap after he rearranged his pillows to support his back. Since Restin and Tokarz had taken away one form of entertainment for the evening, he’d visit a few of his favorite sites on the DeepWeb, the Internet sites not indexed by standard search engines. Maybe, now that his cock occasionally functioned, he could indulge in masturbation. His human blood ought to be good for something once in a while.
His computer finally connected to the motel’s spotty WiFi service.
He tried his favorite adult site, but watching another couple having sex didn’t interest him. All it did was remind him of being with Abigail all night last night. His dick was a little sore from the friction, but he’d been in heaven. If there were such a place.
He switched over to a naked girl site. Some of the girls didn’t look old enough to be legally posing the way they did. That was kind of icky. Okay, a lot icky. He clicked through several photos, stopping on all the girls with long blond hair, then moving on when they didn’t look right. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, exactly.
But there it was. He stopped. Stared. His dick twitched in approval at the photo of a girl shaving her pubes.
Wait a minute. Luke enlarged the photo. Whispered a curse.
The model was a dead ringer for Abigail. His wife. Her Doppelganger. The vivid blue of “Gail’s” eyes was barely visible through the thick brown lashes on her half-closed lids. He went into “Gail’s Bedroom,” feeling a little sick to his stomach. More photos of the model. His cock really liked this girl. Luke clicked on the video, his temper rising along with his penis.
The little gap between her front teeth confirmed his worst fear.
The Moonsinger picnic wasn’t the first time he’d seen her.
His wife was a porn star.
Chapter 11
Luke pounded on Tokarz and Restin’s door. He didn’t care who else he woke up, but he had to get back to Loup Garou. Now.
Tokarz was surly. Restin was nasty. Luke was livid. “I have to go home,” he said. His laptop hung from his shoulder. “I need to rent a car.”
“It’s five in the morning,” Restin snarled.
“I. Have. To. Go. Home,” Luke bit out each word between clenched teeth. Abigail had a lot of explaining to do. Ancient Ones, maybe the baby wasn’t even his. The whore.
“Is something wrong with Abigail?” Tokarz asked.
“Not yet,” Luke muttered. “I’ll catch up with you someplace.” He looked like he was going to have to hitch to a car rental place. If there even was one in such a deity-abandoned locale.
Tokarz’s head jerked. He scratched his bare chest. “Then what’s the hurry?”
Luke wasn’t about to tell his pack alpha he’d been tricked into marrying a woman who was nothing at all what she appeared to be. That he’d been all kinds of horny human fool.
“I have personal business that can’t wait.”
“It’s going to have to,” Tokarz said. “Where am I going to find a drummer on short notice?”
“I don’t give a vampire’s asshole,” Luke said.
Restin backhanded him across the face. “You forget your place, Omega.”
Luke lunged, pinning a shocked Restin against the doorjamb. “Do you want to die tonight?”
Tokarz ripped him off Restin and punched him in the stomach.
Luke doubled over and tried to catch his breath at the same time he vomited up his club soda and the peanuts he’d eaten at the bar. His laptop case slid to the ground.
Tokarz yanked him into his room. The door slammed. “We’ll finish this in private,” he growled.
Everything Luke saw was filmed over with a red haze. He wasn’t even thinking when he leapt toward Tokarz, shifting mid leap. He registered the shock in Tokarz’s yellow eyes before a fist in his snout snapped his head back. Tokarz shifted as quickly and pinned Luke to the floor, his sharp canine teeth snapping at Luke’s exposed throat.
“Say uncle, Omega,” Restin sneered.
Luke made an attempt to go for Restin’s jugular, but Tokarz had him solidly pinned.
Luke reluctantly returned to his human form. Tokarz followed.
“By the Ancient Ones, what is wrong with you?” Tokarz asked. He stood in a puddle of shredded gray sweatpants.
Luke’s own clothes were in tatters on the crappy motel carpet. Luke tried to calm himself. Tried to relax enough to come up with a lie. His wife’s Internet nudity wasn’t anybody’s business but his.
“I need to get back to Loup Garou. Now. It can’t wait. I’m sorry that leaves you without a drummer, but—”
Tokarz cuffed him again. “Wrong answer, omega.”
He should have simply gone, not tried to do the right thing and let his alpha know he was leaving. And that’s what he’d do now. He’d figure it out somehow. Hitch to a rental car place. Rent a vehicle to get back to Loup Garou. Confront the lying bitch about her newly-discovered-by-him hobby. If he were willing to leave his laptop behind, he’d shift and run all the way to Colorado.
Abigail had his head screwed on backward. He should have left the damned computer and gone. Which is what he would do if he ever got out of Tokarz’s room.
“Forget it,” he muttered, and headed for the door.
Restin stepped in front of him. Crossed his arms over his chest. Tokarz went to his suitcase and pulled out a pair of boxer shorts, which he stepped into. Luke stood there as naked as the day he was born. Kind of put him at a bigger disadvantage than he already was.
“What is wrong with you?” Tokarz asked again after a few moments in which the three of them glared at each other.
“Nothing,” Luke said. “I had a bad dream.”
Tokarz arched one eyebrow.
Luke jutted out his chin. He could feel bruises forming where both Tokarz and Restin had punched him. And while he healed quickly, Restin and Tokarz would heal faster. “I’m a quarter human. What do you expect?”
Neither alpha nor beta could argue with that.
“If you’re so anxious about Abigail,” Restin said, “why don’t you call her?”
He’d never considered calling Abigail. He’d heard Tokarz call Delilah, Stoker call Lucy, and Hank speak t
o Michelle, but it never once occurred to him to pick up his phone and make the connection. Another bit of evidence that Abigail wasn’t his mate. As if those Internet photos weren’t enough.
And even thinking about what he’d seen on his computer screen made him crazy all over again. He was careful to hide it. “Guess I’ll go back to my room and do that.”
Not that he knew Abigail’s phone number. Come to think of it, he’d never seen her with a cell phone. Never saw one charging on the kitchen counter. Not that a regular cell phone would even work in Loup Garou. It was a place of landlines and satellite phones.
He could call Granny, but it was early. The old lady liked to get her beauty sleep.
Tokarz eyed him as if he didn’t trust him. Restin didn’t budge from the door. “All right.” Luke gritted his teeth. “I just found out something about Abigail. I need to talk to her.”
“Like I said. Pick up the phone.”
“I can’t see her through the phone,” Luke snapped. “And don’t tell me to Skype with her, because I can’t smell her over the Internet, either.”
He was pretty sure neither Tokarz nor Restin even knew what Skyping was, and he wasn’t in the mood to explain. “Can I go back to my room now?”
“I don’t think so,” Tokarz said. “I think you and Restin are trading places for the rest of the tour. Restin, move your stuff to Luke’s room, then bring his things back here.”
“You don’t trust me?” Luke put all the incredulousness he could muster into the question.
“Nope,” Tokarz replied. “I think you’ve got a bad case of mating fever, and Ethan doesn’t know dick about mating.”
“Abigail is not my mate. I’m not even sure that baby is mine.”
Tokarz crossed his arms over his chest.
Oh, Luke hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Care to explain?”
