by Olivia Arran
A sharp crack echoed through the forest. I threw myself off the ground, smashing into the older man and taking him down. His body jumped as the bullet sliced through his shoulder, exiting into the dirt ground.
Pressing him down, I craned my neck to search the surroundings, but there was nothing. Whoever it was, they were long gone.
“It’s clear.” I made to get up, but he tugged me back down.
“This is our chance,” he whispered in a low voice, and proceeded to outline a plan. We would pretend he was seriously injured, that the bullet had hit him square in the chest in the hope that it would draw the traitor out to finish the job.
It was a good plan, sneaky in a way that I couldn’t help but admire, but there was one thing. “What about Chloe?”
He knew what I was asking. “She can’t know,” he eventually said. “She’s an open book. There’s no way she’d be able to act worried enough that the traitor would believe her.”
Dammit! He was right. If Chloe thought her father could die, her scent would be soured with fear and pain. Something she wouldn’t be able to mimic if she knew the truth.
But I hated it. Just the thought of deceiving her, putting her through the pain… But it would work. And then the traitor wouldn’t be able to threaten my family.
Warmth spread through me as the realization of what I finally had hit me. I had a family.
People were headed toward us, shouts of discovery echoing through the air. Jumping to my feet, I scooped David up into my arms. “Agreed,” I grunted, already regretting it. She’ll understand. Eventually. She had to.
I set off at a sprint back toward the main house. Right now, I needed to get the alpha away from prying eyes.
Chapter Eleven
Chloe
“I need to see him!”
Tears streamed down my face and dripped onto my top. My heart felt like it was going to wrench out of my chest, the air too heavy to breathe as I sucked in great shuddering breaths. He couldn’t die! Not like this!
Large hands clamped onto my shoulders, pulling me into a tight hug. My nose hit a solid chest, the soft cotton of Angel’s T-shirt drying my tears and muffling my sobs.
On hearing the news, I had sprinted straight to my dad’s room and found Angel standing sentry outside the door. One look at his face had told me that it was true. My worst fears confirmed.
And now he wasn’t letting me in.
I beat at his chest, flailing in his arms.
“Shush, Chloe, easy. Calm down—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! That’s my dad in there,” I shrieked, pulling away from him. Sanity breached the panic that held me. I was fighting like a girl when all I really needed to do was fight him like a lieutenant. I was stronger than him. I’d seen him fight.
I pulled back my arm, ready to let it fly, but something held me back. I didn’t want to hit him, not really, not Angel. It wasn’t his fault. He’d been the one to bring my dad back here, to try and dig the bullet out. It wasn’t his fault.
He was watching me, a guarded look on his face.
I let my hand drop back to my side, my spine sagging as the spurt of anger left. “I need to see him, Angel,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself, a sudden chill freezing the blood coursing through my veins to ice. Dad couldn’t leave me, he just couldn’t. I’d already lost my mom. He’d promised never to leave me.
“You can see him, but don’t wake him up.” He soothed the sting of his command by smoothing his hand down my arm and linking our fingers together. He gave my hand a squeeze, sympathy bleeding from him. “He needs to heal, Chloe. So just a quick peek, okay?”
I nodded. It would have to be enough. For now.
Angel cracked open the door.
My hand flew to my mouth, unable to stop the gasp of horror. My dad lay on the bed with the comforter pulled up to his chin. His bedroom was cast in darkness, the only light coming from a small crack in the curtains that allowed a narrow beam of sunlight in to play. Dust danced in the sliver of light, hypnotic and strangely mundane given the severity of the situation.
I forced myself to look at the bed, to really see. His face was twisted in what looked like pain, a gray cast washing his skin. His chest rose and fell in ragged, shallow breaths, the rise and fall so erratic that I had to strain to make sure he was still breathing.
Angel closed the door with a soft click. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“I didn’t believe it…” I resisted the urge to go to Angel for comfort, instead turning and lurching across to my dad’s sitting room to curl up on the couch. I rested my head in my hands, a welcoming numbness stealing over me. “You couldn’t get it out?”
He padded over to the chair opposite me and slumped down, everything about him screaming dejection. “I couldn’t. The bullet went in too close to his heart. It would have caused too much damage to try and get it out manually. Your father commanded me to stop right before he passed out. His body will push the bullet out.”
Or we hope that it will. All we had to do was wait. This was the worst part, and I remembered it well. I could still remember waiting while my mom had sickened, just hanging around, waiting for her to die. “You don’t have to stay here,” I offered.
But he just looked at me, his eyes clearly stating that he wasn’t going anywhere.
A warmth spread through me at the knowledge that I didn’t have to go through this alone.
Angel grunted, shuffling in the chair in a bid to get comfy. “He’s not going to die. He’s too tough a son of a bitch to let a bullet keep him down.”
I appreciated what he was trying to do, but he couldn’t know that. Hell, he didn’t have enough experience to know whether a bullet should be dug out or not.
We settled into comfortable silence, the passage of time marked by people coming and going, some genuinely concerned while others I wasn’t so sure about. Angel blocked every single person from entering my dad’s room, claiming that he needed to sleep to heal. Surprisingly, not a single one challenged him for the right to enter. But that could have very well been because of me. Every time one of them looked like they were going to challenge or push him aside, I found myself jumping to my feet and standing with him. Against my pack.
Now, Angel was asleep, his chest rising and falling with each gentle puff of air from his lips. For the first time since he’d arrived I could really look at him. Commit every detail to memory for when he was gone.
Golden eyelashes dusted his cheeks, the proud bridge of his nose softening in sleep. His wide, generous lips were parted ever so slightly and thick golden stubble dusted his jaw. His long legs were sprawled out in front of him, his hips twisted to the side in an effort to fit into the small chair.
I tugged my blanket a little higher, my fingers plucking at a loose strand of cotton. I couldn’t think about my dad. The whole thing was too scary and too terrifying to even consider, so I shied away, instead focusing on the other man in my life.
Because he was in my life. He’d come crashing back in, destroying all my carefully laid-out plans and bowling me over. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the man I remembered. That could be a good thing. He was still overbearing and overconfident and I was pretty sure he could be as controlling as the next alpha—
My mind stuttered, circling around the obvious flaw.
I had dissolved into a mess of blind panic at his arrival and I’d missed the obvious. Angel wasn’t an alpha.
I shook my head, trying to think clearly. Bullshit. Of course he was. But he didn’t seem strong enough. Mark had bested him in a challenge and he felt…lacking.
Nothing like five years ago. I could be wrong, my memories faulty, but it didn’t make sense. I wouldn’t have run from the man in front of me. He didn’t trigger the warning klaxon inside my head.
Something was off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Shifters couldn’t hide their power; it blazed from them like a bright star for a reason, so they could find their place in the pack.
<
br /> And that was another thing—where had he come from? Who was his pack?
He was hiding something.
The second I thought it, I had to bite back the bitter laugh that threatened to escape. Who was I to be judging him? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be half as bad as the secret I had been keeping from him.
Panic tightened my chest as I realized that time was running out. I’d been so preoccupied with pushing him away, exhausting all of my energy on protecting my heart, I hadn’t stopped to think. He was a member of the pack now, which meant it wasn’t just me he’d be talking to from now on. Spending time with.
Somebody would tell him. If they hadn’t already.
He didn’t know. If he did I was pretty damn sure he wouldn’t have helped me earlier, or been so calm.
So I was safe. For now.
But how the hell did I tell him he had a daughter? And what would he do when he found out?
Chapter Twelve
Angel
Consciousness clawed at the edges of my mind, yanking me from dreams filled with red hair and green eyes.
Keeping my eyes closed, I breathed in her scent, letting it anchor me in reality. I heard her shuffle in her seat, her breath hitching ever so slightly. Then she fell quiet.
Memories of what had happened, of what I had done, filtered back. Shit! I’d lied to her.
I swallowed back a groan of despair. What was done was done.
A cramp flared in my leg and on reflex I stretched it out, all the while wondering if there was any way she’d miss the fact that my cock was at half-mast. A natural occurrence, but difficult to hide.
A sharp intake of breath echoed from across the room and I fought the automatic reaction to freeze. I could feel her eyes burning into me, her gaze caressing my skin.
Just the thought of her looking at me like that had my shaft stiffening even more, straining the confines of my jeans.
Keeping my eyes glued shut, I stretched my arms out and behind my head, making them into a pillow. My T-shirt slid from my jeans, the thin fabric creeping up my stomach.
I swear I could almost hear her swallow. Very surreptitiously, I drew in a deep breath through my nose. Saliva pooled in my mouth as her taste flooded my tongue, the ripeness of her arousal teasing me. “You smell good enough to eat, Chloe.”
Then I opened my eyes.
Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes red and puffy from crying, her lips raw from being chewed on.
So beautiful it hurts.
Did it really matter what she’d done, what her reasons were, when all I wanted to do was hold her and comfort her? No, that was a lie. I also wanted to bury myself inside her, joining us together relentlessly and without mercy. I wanted to see her come apart in my arms and capture her screams with my lips, to feel her shudder with release beneath me.
Her eyes widened a fraction, as though reading my thoughts on my face.
Answers could wait. Excuses too.
I took a deep breath and felt for the bond that linked our souls together, my mark on her neck intensifying the link on my side. I had buried it so many years ago, unable to bear being able to feel her and not have her in my life.
Heartbreak and worry flooded me, the emotions thick and cloying and heavy with despair.
No. Now wasn’t the time to be demanding answers.
“Come here, Chloe,” I drawled, patting my knee and flashing her a grin.
Her eyebrow shot up as she blinked at me. “What are you playing at, Angel?” she asked, her tone full of suspicion.
I shrugged, forcing my body to stay easy and relaxed. “Nothing. You just look like you need a hug.”
She pursed her lips, considering me. “Nothing? You’re never up to nothing.”
“Jeez! A guy offers a hug and gets an interrogation.” It might have come out a little harsher than I’d intended, but did she really have that low an opinion of me?
She blinked at me through suspiciously watery eyes, her throat working as she swallowed back a sob unsuccessfully. “I’m sorry… I’m not usually... I can’t—”
I was on my feet in seconds, rocking to a stop by her feet. Throwing myself down onto my knees, I gently grasped her jaw, turning her head up to meet my eyes.
“Don’t ever tell me you’re sorry, you don’t ever need to say that word to me,” I growled, wanting to smack myself around the side of the head and meaning every goddamn word. When we finally faced the reason for her keeping Maisie from me, it would be so we could move on with our lives. Together. I didn’t need apologies, just explanations, and I couldn’t bear to see this strong woman reduced to tears. “You don’t have to be strong with me, Chloe. You can lean on me. I have to be useful for something.”
I leaned closer, thumbing away the single tear that slid down her cheek. It was killing me to see her cry and to know I was a part of it.
“Chloe—”
“Angel—”
We both spoke at once.
Her hand drifted up to rest on top of mine where it still cupped her cheek.
Her breathing slowed, her tongue darting out to lick at her lips as her body leaned toward mine. She was silent, her eyes begging me to take away the pain screaming at me through the bond, so I did the only thing I could think of.
I brushed my lips gently against hers. Her lips parted under my gentle caress, opening in an invitation that I couldn’t resist. My tongue swept in, coaxing a response.
With a groan I smoothed my thumb across her cheek, encouraging her, entreating her to respond.
She broke in a whispered moan, her defenses crumbling as she melted against me, her legs parting around me.
Falling between her legs, I gathered her to me, deepening the kiss until all I could hear, all I could feel, was her. Threading my fingers through her hair, I urged her to lie back.
She twisted away on a gasp. “I can’t stand it. He can’t die!”
What the fuck was I doing? This was a new low, even for me. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to—”
I was silenced by a finger placed gently across my lips. “You don’t say sorry to me, ever.” She repeated my words back to me, and the corner of her lips lifted in a sad smile. “When I’m with you I can’t think.”
“Chloe—”
“No. That’s good. I don’t want to think. I want to forget everything that is happening, just for now. Just so I can breathe without the terror crushing me, without the painful knowledge of what might happen.” She licked her lips, her gaze darting to the closed bedroom door. “He’s asleep?”
My mouth dropped open. Was she asking me to—? I strained my ears until I picked up the deep, slow rhythmic breathing of the alpha. “He’s asleep,” I confirmed, my voice hoarse.
“Help me forget, Angel. Not forever, nothing permanent, just for this moment.”
She was!
I ignored her demands, telling myself they meant nothing, that she didn’t really mean them. I’d be able to change her mind. After all, we had a child together.
Something fluttered in my stomach, my hands suddenly clammy. Stage fright? I rolled my shoulders back, shaking off the odd feeling. Whatever. This was the most important performance of my life.
I stroked my hands up her thighs until I reached her hips. Dragging her forward, I nipped at her neck, delighting in the shiver that ran through her. “Anything you want, Chloe. Anything for you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Chloe
I was playing with fire. I knew it, I was pretty sure he knew it, but I was doing it anyway.
A glint of something flashed in Angel’s eyes. A promise? A low-rolling heat ignited in my belly, cascading out and searing through my veins.
Angel peeled his T-shirt off in a slow tease of skin and rippling muscles, revealing his tanned torso inch by mouthwatering inch. With a flourish, he tossed it over his shoulder. Resting his hands on his jean-clad thighs he stared at me, blue eyes darkening with heat.
I gave my eyes free rein, my greedy gaze traveling acros
s the wide expanse of his ink-decorated pecs and down to his impressive six-pack.
“Like what you see?” His voice was a low, husky growl that plucked at my tightly wound senses, sending them into overdrive.
I nodded, hands itching to reach out. To touch.
“I don’t bite.”
I stifled an inappropriate laugh, his words reminding me that it was his biting that had gotten me into this predicament in the first place.
“Okay, I won’t bite... this time,” he murmured, as if reading my mind.
It was the confirmation I hadn’t known I’d needed, and my hands flew to him, smoothing and petting, exploring and stroking. The only man I’d ever wanted. Needed.
Throat tight, I swallowed hard. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, after all.
“Don’t stop.” His words were a whispered plea. My eyes darted back to his face, hands still frozen in place.
Pain etched his brow, white lines bracketing his eyes and mouth. His eyes were unblinking, unwavering, and clear with no hidden agenda. Just silent promises of worship and devotion.
I needed this. To forget. I was only half-lying to myself. Since Angel had stalked back into my life I’d been fighting a losing battle with my hormones, every cell in my body crying out for my mate. My wolf didn’t understand why we needed to reject him and fought me constantly. I was tired of fighting, of resisting what I knew would feel so good.
“Okay.” I pulled my top up and over my head.
Now it was his turn to swallow, his eyes greedily caressing me, burning into me.
“Are you just going to stare?”
No sooner had the words left my mouth than he was on me like a man starved of oxygen, his lips finding and sealing with mine, his hands running all over my body, squeezing and molding my curves.
Pressing me back onto the couch, he licked and nibbled a path down my throat, then onto my chest. A rough finger dipped inside the lace of my bra, teasing my nipple. “Off.” It was a growled demand. A claw sliced out, splitting the lace and tipping my breasts into his waiting hands. Dipping his head, he licked one extended peak, then the other, lavishing each with equal attention.
