by Michele Hauf
He adjusted his position and rearranged the leaves that sheltered him from detection. He had just settled back into place when the door to CeCe’s room opened.
The alpha stepped out. CeCe stood behind him, fully dressed in the same clothing she’d been wearing earlier that night. The alpha glanced around, his gaze settling on the rising sun. He said something to CeCe; she nodded and spoke. Marc couldn’t make out her words, but he could see she was on edge.
The alpha held up two fingers...telling her what? Warning her of what?
And that’s what Marc thought it was...not a fond goodbye between lovers, not even a parting of friends...a warning, a deadline, some order the alpha expected completed or...what? Just what would the alpha do to CeCe? Just what had he done before?
A wind broke through the tree, lifting Marc’s hair. He shifted his weight again, considered going with it, leaping from the tree and confronting the male wolf, asking him the questions pounding in Marc’s mind.
As Marc leaned forward, the alpha reached behind his neck. Intrigued, Marc paused. The werewolf lowered his hands and held out their contents. A chain shone yellow in the sun.
Gold. Jewelry. A gift to make up for his treatment of her earlier?
CeCe lowered her head. The alpha slipped the chain around her neck and then he tilted her face up to his and kissed her.
* * *
Alone in her room, CeCe stripped off the clothing she’d worn for too long and stepped into the shower. Water beat down onto her. She grabbed the tiny bar of soap and lathered her body. Tried to pretend nothing had changed, but the kiss wore heavy on her mind and the chain Karl had given her pulled at her neck. Made of ancient gold, it grew warm under the stream of water.
The piece had been worn by the alpha or his mate for as long as this pack had existed. The words destined mate had become real. Too real.
She wasn’t ready.
The chain, beautiful as it was, felt like a weight, dragging her down.
She touched the metal with two fingers and tried to push past the uncomfortable feeling of being bound, shackled to a life she was no longer sure she wanted.
She slipped her thumb under the chain and held it away from her skin, then dropped the links back into place. They fell against her...lay there just as heavy, just as impossible to ignore.
* * *
10:00 a.m. and Marc was still outside of CeCe’s motel, still waiting for the female werewolf to appear. He pulled the brim of his hat lower. The alpha and three other werewolves had come out of their rooms and loaded themselves into two trucks an hour earlier.
Fifteen minutes more passed.
No movement.
He was growing impatient. Needed to do something.
He could do as he should have done earlier, return to his room and call the Fringe, or he could stay here, letting the sun drain what energy he had left.
The sane course of action was to leave, but somehow Marc’s feet didn’t move. He waited more.
Finally, thirty minutes later the door to CeCe’s room opened and she stepped out into the day.
In fresh pants and a white billowy shirt, she looked natural and fresh. Her dark hair glistened in the sun.
A cold spot in Marc’s chest ached.
Then her hand rose and he saw the chain...hanging from her neck...proclaiming her as belonging to someone else.
This time, the spot of cold didn’t ache; it cracked like ice.
Chapter 16
Marc followed as CeCe moved down the street. She pulled her hair to one side, baring her neck. Her fingers brushed the chain the alpha had given her.
She let her hair fall back into place, covering the chain, but Marc could still see it peeking through, catching the light.
At the diner, she paused. Then after a moment of apparent indecision, she pulled open the door and walked in.
Within seconds, she was seated in the same booth they had occupied the night before.
He strode through the door.
She didn’t look up from the menu as he approached and he didn’t give her a warning. He slid into the seat across from her and pulled the menu from her hands.
“Tell me, does the alpha strike all his pack members, or just the ones destined to be his mate?” It wasn’t his business. He knew that.
Her eyes widened and her lips parted. No answer, but then he really hadn’t expected one.
“Is it worth it? Being part of the pack?” He didn’t know why his words came out so rough. He hadn’t intended to start the conversation this way, but as he stared at her, remembered the alpha striking her, then kissing her...the little blood that flowed through his body boiled.
He dropped the menu onto the table. “Why are you loyal to that?” He wanted to understand. No, that was a lie. He didn’t care to understand that kind of loyalty.
She didn’t ask him what he meant; she didn’t play dumb. She just turned her face away, displaying the skin that the alpha had struck. There was no mark, but there wouldn’t be. She was a werewolf...like a vampire...no scars, at least not those visible on the outside.
“You’re a vampire. You can’t understand.”
“Understand what? That he uses your loyalty to abuse you? Doesn’t even believe you when you tell him the truth?” He kept his voice cool and uncaring, although inside he seethed.
She looked at him then, her eyes narrowed. “You could have helped. You could have told him what happened. We had the killer’s body to show them, or would have if you wouldn’t have made it disappear. This―” she waved her hands in the air “―could have been over, settled, but now it isn’t. Russell is dead and Karl believes a vampire killed him. And guess who’s the only vampire in town?”
She reached for a glass of ice water that sat on the table in front of her.
He placed his hand over hers, stopping her from lifting the glass. “Me? Let them.” Let the pack come after him. Let the alpha come after him.
“No. I can’t. You don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand?” He wanted her to tell him she cared about the truth...that she cared about him.
“Russell...he deserves better.”
“Russell.” Flat. No feeling.
“And you. I don’t want you punished for something you didn’t do.”
Too little, too late. He didn’t believe her.
“What if I told you I wouldn’t be? What if I told you your pack doesn’t scare me, can’t touch me?” He was no lone vampire, no easy target. “Would you care then? Would you still want the truth?” Or would she follow her alpha’s lead like a sheep, not a wolf?
She met his gaze. “Yes. I would.”
It was something. More than he’d expected.
“And your alpha?”
She looked away.
He wanted to ask her to rip off the chain then, to leave with him, forget the pack, forget the alpha, forget Russell and the treasure, forget everything, but he couldn’t.
It wouldn’t work, he knew that.
And he had another mystery to solve. He had to find out who had sent the other vampire, find out if his guess was right and there was more to the treasure than he had been led to believe.
“What about the treasure? Are you forgetting it?” he asked.
His change in topic seemed to confuse her. “No...yes...it doesn’t matter, not with a pack member dead.”
“Your words or your alpha’s?”
Anger flashed in her eyes. “Both. I told you the pack is important. Treasure is nothing compared to that.”
“Really.” In two centuries, Marc had never seen a being, werewolf, vampire or human, walk away from riches he thought should be his. “So, the pack is giving up the hunt.”
“Yes.”
“The
n either there is no treasure, there never was, or the pack already has it.”
“They don’t. They can’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because...” A frown, uncertainty.
“Why was Russell killed? You never told me that, never told me who would want him dead.”
“I did...no one. Russell was...harmless. It was someone outside the pack.”
“Outside the pack? A vampire? Me?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
Treasure. This all started with treasure. If Russell’s death wasn’t personal, the treasure had to be involved.
“Remember Russell’s body, how there was no sign of shift?” He’d pointed this out before, but she hadn’t wanted to listen. Maybe now she would. “He was killed by someone he trusted.”
“Or someone fast, someone who surprised him.”
“A stake was driven into his chest. I’m sure it was a surprise, but it wasn’t delivered from yards away, not even feet away. His killer was standing close, closer than he would let someone stand he didn’t trust.
“How well did you know Russell?” Marc thought he had solved the mystery now, or part of it.
She lifted one shoulder. “As well as anyone. He was new. He’d only been in the pack a couple of years. This mission was an opportunity to prove himself.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to prove himself. Maybe he wanted to be free.”
She shook her head, hard. “Wolves don’t want to be free, at least not like you mean. Being free for them is being part of the pack, knowing others are there to back them up. Being on your own...being rogue. That’s every wolf’s nightmare.”
Hers too? He wanted to ask.
“Besides, we didn’t find the treasure to steal.”
“You didn’t,” he corrected.
“Russell didn’t,” she insisted. “It wasn’t in Porter’s house. You saw us leave. Neither of us was loaded down with treasure.”
“Maybe he went back later or found something that told him where it was.”
Her eyes widened.
“The woods. Russell had no reason to be in the woods.”
“Except...”
“The treasure.”
They looked at each other.
She pulled her hand away. The glass she’d held tilted; water spilled across the tabletop. Both ignored it. Both knew they were sitting on top of a decision...trust or fight. Look for the treasure together, see where it led them, or continue the age-old rivalry between vampires and wolves.
He wanted to trust her. He wanted her to trust him.
He held out his hand, palm up, fingers curved.
She stared at his fingers for a moment, a moment that seemed to last five lifetimes. Then she slipped her hand onto his, so her fingers curled around his and they hooked together.
After a second, she murmured, “We should go...look near where I found Russell, maybe go back to his room. See if I missed something.” She stood.
Marc followed her example, but he wasn’t interested in searching for the treasure, not yet. He leaned forward until his face was inches from hers.
Her lips parted. Fear flickered in her eyes.
He pushed his advantage and leaned in more. The cook came out of the kitchen and motioned toward them. Others stopped their conversations to stare.
With a growl, Marc blocked them out, threw up a thrall to divert their attention away from them, then whispered in CeCe’s ear. “Your alpha doesn’t value you, but I do. Trust me, CeCe.”
Her lips parted. Afraid she was going to say something to stop the rush of passion surging through him, he shoved his hands into her hair and pulled her lips to his.
His kiss was savage...primal...he couldn’t help that. Maybe it was the wildness in her, maybe it was the memory of seeing her kiss the alpha or maybe it was the length of time since he had kissed a woman, done anything with a woman aside from feed on her, but his need to kiss CeCe, to have her pressed against him, was so intense he couldn’t pretend at civilized.
And he didn’t want to.
At first he thought she would pull away. He trembled at the thought, with the need for her to stay, meet his passion with her own.
But then, slowly, her hands slipped up his chest and around his neck, and her lips met his, hard and crushing. Filled with every bit as much need as was roaring through him.
Her tongue thrust into his mouth.
Around them the noise of the diner dimmed. People moved around them, lost in the thrall he had cast, their gazes dancing over the two of them, and to Marc the diner disappeared all together.
All he could hear was the beat of CeCe’s heart and the soft pants of her breath. All he could taste was the sweet honey of her lips. All he could smell was the wild earthiness of her skin. And all he could feel was her, her tongue touching his, her face soft beneath his thumbs.
And that was all he wanted. He placed his knee on the table and pulled CeCe up with him. Chest to chest they kneeled on the table as if no one else existed.
Glass crashed...the water glass slipping from the table and onto the floor. A waitress exclaimed and hurried forward, broom in hand.
CeCe pulled back. “I...” She looked around, panic in her eyes. “What...?”
He touched her cheek, tried to turn her face back to his. “They don’t see us.”
“None of them?” Uncertainty...reality seeping back into her consciousness.
He nodded, but her attention wasn’t on him. It was on the waitress, sweeping the last few pieces of glass into a dustpan. The unwelcome human left, but still CeCe hesitated.
“I...” Her hand drifted to the damned chain the alpha had hung around her neck.
She was thinking, realizing what she had done.
And for the first time in Marc’s long life, he cursed logic. Being with her had taken him to a new place, a wild place, a place where he felt free.
He wanted the same for her, but as she pulled farther away, lowered one leg and then the other back onto the booth’s seat, he knew that he’d lost her, knew she was slipping back into the werewolf she thought she should be rather than the woman she was.
He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.
He pulled her from the booth and down the short hallway, into one of the small bathrooms. Then he spun her around and kissed her again, pressed her back against the closed door and reveled in their differences. She was pack; he was a loner. She was soft and warm; he was hard and cold.
They had nothing in common, but he wanted her more than he had wanted anyone or anything in his undead life.
She stared at him, uncertain, but not fighting him. Letting him touch her, appreciate her. She wasn’t pushing him away.
It was, for the moment, all he wanted.
He ran his hand up her side, beneath her T-shirt. Her skin was silky and smooth, but solid muscle lay beneath it. Strength the alpha didn’t appreciate, didn’t deserve.
The alpha.
A rock formed in Marc’s stomach. He didn’t want to be reminded of the wolf; he wanted to pretend he didn’t exist, that the pack didn’t exist. At least for a while.
He grabbed the chain that hung from CeCe’s neck and lifted it over her head. It caught in her hair, but he pulled the necklace free and dropped it onto the floor. Then he kicked it to the side and out of his sight.
CeCe raised her hand to her throat. Her lips parted. Guilt shone from her eyes. Marc grabbed her fingers and held them tight in his, then slowly he kissed each finger pad, willed her to give him this time...to pretend along with him that their differences didn’t exist.
Slowly, her eyes drifted shut and her head tilted back. He folded her fingers into his hand and stretched out her arm. He kissed her wrist where the blood ran strong beneath he
r skin, then traced the blue lines of her veins with his tongue. A tremor ran through her.
His groin tightened and his nostrils flared. She had asked him about other places for vampires to drink. There were many: the neck, the wrist, the elbow.... He worked his way up, placing tiny kisses along the line of her vein until it disappeared from view. Then he swirled his tongue over the bend of her arm.
She stared down at him, her gaze open and curious. He knew then she would let him bite her, and he wanted to, but not yet. There was more he wanted to do, more he wanted to share.
He moved back against her, crushing her body with his, crushing her mouth with his. His fangs were extended; they dragged over her lower lip.
A bead of her blood dripped into his mouth, giving him a taste, a promise he could hardly resist.
Finally, her hands moved too. Her fingers wove into his hair, pressed his mouth closer to hers until blood coated his tongue, made it hard for him to concentrate, to keep himself from plunging his fangs into her throat.
But this wolf wasn’t just a midnight snack. Wasn’t a meal to enjoy and leave. This wolf was special, this time they shared special. He couldn’t waste it, couldn’t risk that she’d misread his actions as being something so base as just filling his need for blood.
He pulled his mouth back so his fangs no longer pierced her lip.
She murmured an objection and his body tightened.
She was under no thrall. She could walk away at will, but it seemed she wanted to be here...with him, vampire though he be.
He cupped her face with his hand and kissed the corner of her lips. Her fingers trailed down his chest, slow, unsure as if she too were worried that he would misread her actions.
But he wanted her touch, wanted her. He placed his hand against the small of her back and pulled her pelvis against his, let her feel the desire there, let her know he wanted her in every way.
Her hand moved lower. She pulled his shirt from his pants and ran her fingers under the material, across his bare skin. Her fingers dipped lower, beneath his waistband, brushing sensitive skin.
A hiss escaped his lips; he could feel his eyes changing, the pupils disappearing.
