by MJ Compton
Like running his own background check on Mrs. MacDougal. He couldn’t recall the woman’s first name, but how many Mrs. MacDougals would teach Sunday School at the Community Church of Oak Moon? Luke was good, but the FBI had easier access to resources that would be quicker.
Now that would be a job—Internet research for the federal government. He could fulfill the pack’s treaty obligation on an on-going basis. Not that anyone in the pack would care. He was omega, after all.
He wished he’d had time to purchase himself a new laptop while they were in Fort Collins. Another sin to place at Libby’s door. His super phone would have to suffice. He should get a super phone for Abby, too. She couldn’t howl if she needed him. There was the baby to think about. Granny couldn’t howl either. How had she and Gramps coped with twins?
They’d been isolated, too. Gramps’ family had essentially disowned him for the shame of having a human mate. Other lycans wanted nothing to do with them. And Granny’s family couldn’t be involved for obvious reasons. History repeated itself with his own parents, although his mom could howl perfectly fine.
And that’s what would happen if Abby took Rosie Dawn and moved to Oak Moon. Libby was her only family, and Luke didn’t want that brat anywhere near his child. Ever.
The DeepNet site popped up on the screen. Luke’s fingers flew over the unfamiliar keyboard. And he was in. Wow. That blonde looked a little young to have knockers that big.
Abby grabbed the side of her neck. The stinging was back, as if an entire honey farm of bees decided to attack her. Or a ghostly welder held his blowtorch to her flesh.
“What?” Granny asked.
“That pain I had a couple of weeks ago. It’s back.”
Granny had made chicken and rice soup, which Abby greedily gulped down. She hadn’t had a chance yet to ask about the bubbling in her stomach. Or stillbirths. She didn’t want to discuss either topic in front of Libby, who was munching on a grilled cheese sandwich.
Granny pulled Abby’s hand away from the site of the pain and tipped her head so that her exposed neck was directly under the dim overhead light.
“I don’t see anything.”
“It burns.”
Granny ran her fingers along the side of Abby’s throat. “Here?”
Abby shook her head with each asking of the question, until Granny hit the spot where her neck joined her shoulder.
“Ow!” Abby did a great imitation of a howl.
“That’s really odd,” Granny muttered. She went to the old-fashioned rotary phone hanging on the wall and dialed a few slow numbers. “Colette, can you come over tonight? I need your advice on something.” Granny hung up without waiting for an answer and grinned. “Asking her advice will get her here faster than you can say her name.”
Libby finished her sandwich and wandered toward the sitting room and Gramps’ big screen TV.
Not three minutes later, the door opened and a naked Colette scurried into the kitchen. “What?” She sounded frantic. “Is the baby okay?”
Granny threw her a robe. “You could have driven instead of running. It’s Abigail’s neck.” Granny tilted Abby’s head again. The tip of her withered finger probed the burning patch of flesh.
“You called me over here to show me Abigail’s neck?”
“I need a werewolf’s perspective,” Granny snapped. “What is this spot?” She poked the patch harder. “Right here. Is it what I think it is?”
Colette’s breath was hot on Abby’s neck as she leaned in closer. “That’s the marking spot. So?”
“That’s what I thought.” Granny sounded smug. “Her marking spot is burning.”
“Or stinging,” Abby added as she sat up. She reached for her soup bowl again. “Like a zillion wasps are attacking me.”
“I don’t get it,” Colette said. “Why did you call me here to ask me about Abigail’s marking spot?”
“Luke said he never marked her. Says she’s not his mate.”
Colette’s eyes widened.
“Have you ever heard of someone’s marking spot burning?”
Colette shook her head. “Why should a marking spot burn?”
“That’s a real good question.”
Abby’s spoon scraped the bottom of her bowl.
“Would you like more soup?” Granny offered. “Didn’t Luke feed you while he had you in Fort Collins?”
“Libby and Luke had a big disagreement,” Abby said, as she pushed her bowl toward Granny.”
“What happened?” Granny asked, as she ladled soup into the bowl.
Abby chose her words with care. “Luke isn’t used to dealing with Libby and her issues.”
“Libby doesn’t have issues,” Colette said. “She’s a bit spoiled and extremely headstrong, but there’s nothing wrong with that girl. She’s smarter and more mature than she lets on. She only needs a firm hand.”
Abby focused on sliding her spoon through the rich chicken broth. Colette had been living with Libby for what, a week, give or take? Abby had lived with Libby since the day she was born. Libby was young for her age and had issues.
“Do you know anyone to ask about Abby’s marking spot?” Granny reverted to the original topic. “I am not lycan. I don’t know your lore, even though I’ve lived here for over fifty years.”
Colette’s brows rushed together. “Not really. Maybe my grandmother. Let me see what I can find out.” Colette dropped the heavy red robe to the floor. She stepped out into the cold October night as naked as the day she was born.
Granny caught Abby’s unbelieving stare. “I know. Why do you think I spend so much time in the kitchen? Because I like to cook?” She snorted. “It’s the only room in the house that’s near to warm enough for my thin human blood. You’d think after all these years I’d have acclimated, but I haven’t.”
“I have another question for you,” Abby said, even as another wave of pain seared her neck. She clutched the spot as if her hand could ease the agony. “Tonight, on the way back to Loup Garou—”
A howl, sounding close enough to be in the room with them, sent chills through Abby.
“That’s only Colette, summoning the troops,” Granny said. “What is it?”
“Bubbles.” Abby moved her hand from her neck to her abdomen. “Or flutters. Here.”
Granny’s scowl split open into a teeth-baring grin. “Life. That’s your baby moving, Abigail. It’s exactly as it should be.”
The spoon clattered in the bowl as both of Abby’s hands covered her abdomen. Could she love this baby? It was half her. Part Granny. More human than werewolf.
“So there is nothing to worry about?” And if she was worried, didn’t that mean she already loved the babe? Her mother had loved Libby, even when Libby’s behavior and neediness threatened to overwhelm them all. Of course, werewolfery was a little different from whatever troubled Libby. A mother’s love was supposed to overcome everything. What if she wasn’t up to the task? What if she took one look at the little one and rejected it?
Oh. Right. Luke would take it, even if it weren't a Rosie Dawn.
Or what if what Libby had said about Mama’s miscarriages . . .
“You’re over thinking,” Granny said in a low voice. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
Generations of Colette’s family descended on Granny’s house. Every one of them was stark naked. Granny handed out blankets and sheets. Some of them came inside as wolves and wanted to shift in the kitchen until Granny scolded them and said all that disparate energy might not be good for Colette’s part-human grandchild.
Abby washed out her bowl and spoon, and then tried to hide in the bedroom until this council of female werewolves did whatever Granny thought they should do. That didn’t happen. Once Granny announced Abby had felt the baby move, every woman in Loup
Garou wanted to touch her abdomen. Her being human didn’t matter to them. And when Granny mentioned “marking spot,” every one of them also had to inspect her neck.
“Did Luke bite you there?” Colette’s mother asked. “The first time.”
Abby nodded. Luke liked to lick her neck. Nuzzle and nibble, and she liked it when he did. That was too personal to share, though. No one had ever heard of a marking spot burning or stinging. A couple of the younger women mentioned their spots felt real good during sex—too much information as far as Abby was concerned.
“Okay,” Colette said. “Let’s focus here. Abby, how much do you actually know about mating and marking?”
Panic welled. “Not a lot. Nothing. Except Luke says even though we’re married in the eyes of the state of Colorado, I am not his mate.”
Colette sighed. “Here’s the deal. When a male werewolf meets his mate, his part gets hard.”
Abby wanted to sink through the floor. “Luke said he took a pill.”
“I heard that, and I don’t believe it. I’ve seen the way my son treats you and even more, the way he reacts to threats against you. He might have taken a pill, but if his lycan blood had anything to do with it, nothing happened because of a few drugs. Now, I’m going to get a lot more personal than you’re used to, but it’s for your own good. When you and Luke had sex for the first time, did he nip you on your neck at all?”
“Yes. I think so. But Luke says he didn’t.” Abby wanted to cry. This was so humiliating. At least Granny was human and wouldn’t judge her, but these other relatives of Luke’s—she didn’t know them. Didn’t understand their ways.
“Did he offer you berries?” someone else asked. “That’s always a sure sign. There’s not a male alive who can resist a mate who’s eaten berries.”
Abby shook her head.
“Sure he did,” Libby said from the door. She clutched her Santa Claus pillow to her chest.
“What are you doing in here?” Abby asked. She’d assumed Libby was still with Gramps and the satellite TV. She was far too young for this conversation.
“Luke gave you strawberries. He bought both of us strawberry lemonade because he said it matched the color of your dress.”
Every eye was on Abby. No one exhibited any concern about exposing Libby to the mating habits of werewolves.
Granny picked up her telephone receiver again. Dialed. “Marcus, I want you to go see what your son is up to. I don’t mean in general, I mean specifically. Exactly. Then bring him back here. I have a kitchen full of your in-laws who want to talk to him.” Granny then repeated what Libby had shared with the group.
“He’s working,” Abby said when Granny hung up the phone. “He starts his new job for the—” Oops. His employer was something she shouldn’t bandy about. “He starts his new job and wanted some peace and quiet so he went to his house.”
“Luke got a job?” someone asked. “Besides the band?”
“Why does it matter?” someone else asked.
“I have a theory,” Granny announced.
Chapter 20
Who was knocking on his door when he wasn’t even supposed to be in the house yet? Luke decided to ignore the pounding until he heard his father calling his name. Ignoring his father was not a smart thing.
“It’s open,” he called out. He exited the Gail’s Bedroom site, where he’d been looking at photos of Abby instead of working, looking for a reflection in a shiny surface, a stray thumb in front of a lens from which they could pull a fingerprint—anything to identify Gary’s cohort. His dad didn’t need to see Abby like that.
Luke started down the stairs but his father stopped him.
“Your grandmother sent me here to see what you’re doing.”
“I’m working,” Luke said. “I don’t know if I mentioned it, but I’m doing some computer stuff for the FBI—part of treaty fulfillment.”
“Abigail said you had a new job, but she didn’t say what.”
“Don’t call her Abigail.” Ancient Ones, he hated that name. Hated the way Gary had bastardized it into something evil.
His father, whose night vision wasn’t as keen as his own, studied him in the dim light filtering down from the loft. “All of your mother’s family is at my mom’s house, trying to figure out what’s wrong with Abby.”
Luke had heard his mother call for her family, but the import hadn’t sunk in. If his mother called for reinforcements, the situation must be serious. The LeFleurs thought their scat didn’t stink. “Is Abby okay?” He started for the door.
“She felt the baby move for the first time today. Everybody’s ecstatic about that. But the thing going on with her marking spot has everyone concerned.”
“Her marking spot?” Luke hadn’t marked her. Why would anything be going on with her marking spot?
Then the rest of what his father said clicked. “She felt the baby move?” She hadn’t said anything to him. That hurt.
“Your grandmother sent me over to find out exactly what you’re doing.”
“I told you. Some Internet stuff for the feds.”
“Luke, you gave Abby berries.”
“I did not.” The denial burst like flames from his lips.
“Does strawberry lemonade the same color as her dress ring a bell?”
Luke reeled as if his father had punched him in the gut.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” His father sounded grim. “Let’s see what’s on your computer, shall we?”
“Dad—”
“You wanna be the one to tell your grandmother you wouldn’t let me see what you’re doing?”
“It’s government work. It’s top secret.”
“You are so full of scat, boy.” There was no rancor in his father’s tone. “The feds wouldn’t let you be working in Loup Garou if it was top secret. I can take a guess, you know. I heard a story about you, Tokarz, Restin, and the guy from the State Department. And there’s the situation with Libby and Abby’s stepfather, not to mention the hobby you think you’ve kept secret for the past couple of years. Add all that together, and I could take a guess that might not be as mild as what you’re actually doing.”
Luke’s face burned.
His father’s tone softened. “If it didn’t involve Abby, I wouldn’t pry. But that girl is pregnant with my grandchild.” His father grinned. “If your grandmother wants me to find out what you’re doing, I’m finding out.”
“Come on up,” Luke said. He was still reluctant, and everything upset Abby—except Libby’s behavior. But the problem with being the youngest omega was that everyone—every single person in the pack—could order him about. Even baby Daniel Garnier, months-old half-human alpha-in-the-making, could piss on Luke’s boots. Luke would not only have to stand there and take it, he would have to smile the whole time.
His father’s tread was heavy on the stairs. “The last time I was here, I found Abby wrapped in bloody sheets.”
“They’ve been changed,” Luke said in a tight voice. He couldn’t imagine the terror a sight like that could instill.
“She’s okay now. Except for a pain in her neck.”
“Libby?” Luke tried to joke. “She’s a pain in the ass.”
“Not funny. Your grandmother said Abby is in serious pain. At her marking spot. Everyone is baffled.”
“So they’re blaming me. The story of my life.” His father knew it was true.
“She’s pregnant with your baby. You gave her berries. You’re having sex with her. Sometimes a guy can forget himself and act on instinct when he’s in the throes of sex. Would it be so awful if Abby was your mate?”
“I have nothing to offer a mate. Not even a name.”
“I’m less lycan than you, and if I felt that way, you wouldn’t be here.”
“W
hen you mated with Mom, you gave me back a predominantly werewolf heritage. I want my offspring to have even more than I do. While I love my Rosie Dawn already, she’s still more human than werewolf.”
“Which is what the Ancient Ones want, or else she wouldn’t have been conceived.”
“I know that. But I want to be the one to break the curse.”
Dad paused at the top of the stairs. “Curse? Losing status is not some kind of spell or hex from magic or voodoo. It’s a sentence, like a human prison term.”
“Sentences can be commuted.”
His father changed the subject. “You’re turning this space into your office?”
“Yes. I plan to do a lot of work for the FBI. I’m good. The extra money will come in handy when I do find my mate and settle down to start that family.”
“And what are you going to do with the family you have? Abandon them? Desert them? Send them back to Oak Moon so you can live a dual life—your human wife and child in Oak Moon, your lycan offspring here in Loup Garou? How does Abby feel about that? And how well do you think a full-blooded werewolf female would go for that?”
Oh. He hadn’t considered that. A female lycan could be as jealous and possessive as a male. Things could get ugly—if not deadly—quickly.
He’d have to deal with it when the time came.
“There you go, Dad.” Luke gestured to his closed laptop. “Knock yourself out.” He leaned against the rail and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You know I don’t know much about these things,” his father grumbled. “Macy got all the technology genes.”
Luke struggled. He didn’t want his father to know for certain what he was doing, even if the FBI was sanctioning these excursions. Tokarz and the rest of the band knew about his Internet activities, but Tokarz knew all sorts of private details about the members of the pack. That came with being alpha.
