“I love how quickly you respond to me,” he growled softly.
She arched her back, offering herself to him, and murmured, “Anyone could walk in on us.”
“They wouldn’t dare.”
Her laugh ended on a startled gasp when his lips found her breast, his tongue circling it before sucking the tip into his mouth. She was suddenly primed and ready, and fumbled with the snap on his jeans. It popped open, she tugged the zipper down, and then her hand circled his cock. The contact was sudden and shocking. Heaven. He bit down on her nipple and she yelped, squeezing him hard. He shoved into her grip.
“Yes…” He hissed. “Like that.”
There were so many people were in and out of the house these days that she expected someone to walk in at any moment. It added to her excitement and her pussy was screaming for attention. He managed to get her shorts off without taking his mouth from her breasts or slowing the thrusts in her hand. Hurry, hurry, hurry beat like a mantra through her head. When his fingers found her clit, she cried out his name. He lifted her and thrust into her, spinning around to sit on the edge of the table. Gasping, she threw her head back and shuddered around him. Lost in her own orgasm she barely registered his groan when he came. They collapsed back onto the table together, and she smiled dreamily. She’d never look at this old table in quite the same way again.
Chapter Twelve
Tara entered the back door of the bakery, glad to be back and already missing Trey. The kitchen was empty, its steel surfaces gleaming from a recent cleaning. She locked the door behind her and as she'd promised, called to check in. By ten the morning rush had mostly passed, and she followed the low buzz of conversation from out front where Milo and the local lingerers had greeted her warmly earlier. She sighed. It was good to be back.
Pouring a cup of coffee and grabbing a Danish, she returned to the back and her desk. Paperwork had piled up in her short absence--bills and order confirmations, delivery change notices and miscellaneous mail, plus the week’s receipts. She rifled through the junk mail first, dropping it in a small can at her feet, then pulled out her check ledger and paid the bills. She noted a couple of delivery schedule changes on the large desk calendar and turned to last week’s books.
At least business hadn’t suffered while she was gone. As a matter of fact, it increased, the small town equivalent to rubber necking. She should get shot at more often. She grimaced. Aside from the unpleasantness of repeating the whole ordeal, she could only imagine Trey’s reaction. He’d probably hide her away on some desert island, which wasn’t a horrible idea. She could go for some isolated tropical time with Trey. She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and smiled. Yes, a Bahama Mama, some white sand, Trey, and no one else around sounded pretty damned good.
“Well, don’t you look content,” Meg drawled.
She cracked an eye open and half glared at the interruption before sitting up and turning her full attention on Meg. Her cousin crossed her arms over her chest and looked defensive. Wonderful. Tara had a few things to say to her baby cousin, and now was as good a time as any.
“Have a seat,” she said, nodding at the chair in front of her desk.
Meg moved towards the chair, each cautious step radiating her reluctance, and gripped its back. “You’re still pissed at me, huh?” she asked.
Tara sighed, anger dissipating like wind from her sails. It was impossible for her to stay angry with anyone for a week, much less one of her cousins. Meg looked contrite at least. With Summer gone it was left to Tara to fill Meg in on some of the bigger Duveau family secrets.
“Sit down, Meg,” she said wearily. “Do you remember Grandpa Jack? Tinnie’s husband?”
Tara saw nothing but avid curiosity on Meg’s face, and no wonder. Jack was persona non grata with her and Summer. She watched Meg sip her cappuccino, and took a fortifying sip of her own now cold coffee.
“Jack was a werewolf.”
“What?” Meg cried out the question and jumped to her feet. The chair scraped across the floor and Tara winced at the sound. It seemed to go well with the conversation. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
She took a steadying breath, arranged the timeline in her mind and started talking. She told her everything. How Jack was rarely around, how he disappeared for good when Tinnie got sick and never came back. How she and Summer had tried to track him down, but gotten nowhere in their search. When she finished, Meg looked back at her shell-shocked.
“Trey is your mate. And Darius is mine. Do you suppose Summer has one too?” She shook her head and paced. “I don’t know enough. This can’t be common, even for werewolves. Is it because we’re witches or because Jack was one of them?”
Tara shrugged. “Summer would be the one to ask probably, and I doubt we’ll be seeing much more of her.”
She picked at the Danish on her desk and looked up to catch Meg watching her with a suspicious gleam in her eye Tara knew all too well.
“There’s more,” she said.
Tara bit back a bitter laugh. It must be nice to have reliable intuition.
“Do you know much about them yet? Their hierarchy for example? Have they told you about the rogue?”
She nodded. “I saw it. Darius said it was Bradley Jones. Who’d have thought? I never had any idea.” So her intuition wasn’t completely whacked out.
“And hierarchy…Darius is the alpha and Eric is his beta. His second in command,” she cocked her head to the side. “And I’m not sure what Trey is, but they all differ to his judgment.”
“He’s a hunter,” Tara said softly. Meg stopped in her tracks and went back to her chair. Catching Tara’s gaze, she leaned forward.
“All right, spill. You’ve got that ‘it couldn’t be worse’ tone going on.”
“They’re a…special organization, I guess you’d say, of werewolves who hunt these rogues. Jack was a hunter.” She paused. “They’re supposed to retire when they mate. The bond shouldn’t let them stand that kind of separation.”
She shrugged and added bitterly, “That didn’t seem to stop Jack.”
“Ah, I think I get it.” Meg leaned back in her chair, resting her elbows on the arms and arched an eyebrow. “Trey isn’t Jack. I don’t see him taking off. He’s relentless, steadfast, and loyal.”
Tara closed her eyes and heard the conviction in Meg’s voice. Among the cousins, her ability to read people was superior and they’d learned not to question it. But what did that mean really? She already knew he was unyielding and committed. The question was where would his loyalty ultimately lie? With her or the hunters? Her grandfather had picked them. He could too. Did she really want him to stick around anyway? Part of her craved him, but the other part of her was damned suspicious of anything resembling happily ever after with a werewolf. Hell, she didn’t know what to think or want anymore.
The chair creaked and she opened her eyes to see Meg standing. She tossed the paper coffee cup in a nearby trashcan and picked up her bag.
“I’ve got to get the bar. Are you going to be okay?”
She smiled and knew it was a weak effort. “I’ll be fine.”
She allowed herself a minute to wallow in self-pity, then returned to the books. The first day after the shooting business had gone way up. It gradually trickled back down to more normal levels in the following days. The increase had leveled off in the last couple of days and she hoped that meant she’d gained a few new regulars. She was adjusting the next week’s orders when the phone jangled. She heard Milo answer it, and a second later he stuck his head through the door.
“It’s some insurance guy for you on line one. He said it’s about your window.”
“Thanks, Milo. I got it.” She reached for the phone as he disappeared around the door.
“Tara Burke.”
“Ms. Burke,” a nasally male voice answered. “My name is Andrew Smith from National Insurance. I’m the adjuster assigned to your case.”
“Yes, of course. What can I do for you Mr. Smith?”
/>
“Well, I need to have a look at the house and I have some forms you’ll need to fill out. I’m passing through town now on my way to another meeting. I could fit you in if you can meet me at your house. Otherwise it will be at least two weeks before I can get to it.”
Crap. Two weeks with a boarded-up front window. Trey would freak out if she went, since he didn’t have anyone watching her right now. He’d let her come to work with the understanding she wouldn’t leave the building. But Jones had disappeared and what could it hurt to go three blocks over to her house in broad daylight?
“I can be there in five minutes,” she said and hung up.
She let Milo know she was stepping out for a few minutes, grabbed her bag and exited by the back door. She paused long enough to lock the door before turning to the opening of the long alley and walking to her SUV. A scurrying sound came from behind her. Too late she realized it was a ploy to get her outside and alone before she got completely turned around. Bradley Jones’ face flashed in front of her before the world went dark.
* * *
It was late afternoon when she woke, and it took her a moment to remember what happened. She tried to breathe as if she was still knocked out, staying motionless, and opened her eyes just enough to peek around. She was on a narrow cot pushed against the back corner of what appeared to be a one-room cabin about twenty-five by twenty-five feet and she was alone. Standing, she grabbed her pounding head and stumbled to the closest grimy window. She wiped a clear circle with the edge of her shirt and peered outside. Woods, and unfamiliar woods at that. She could be in any hunting shack in south Alabama. Damn.
She started for the front door, but it flung open before she reached it and she shrank back. Bradley Jones stalked in and she unsteadily retreated until the backs of her legs once again hit the bed. The door slammed closed. His eyes flickered over her, but he didn’t utter a word. Instead he carried a grocery sack to the kitchenette on the opposite wall and unloaded a six-pack of Cokes and some deli sandwiches. He set two of each on the small table and nodded at her.
“Sit. Eat.”
Her stomach rebelled at the thought. Whether from the hit on the head or her current circumstances she didn’t hazard a guess. Rage and madness glittered in his eyes and she knew better than to refuse. She walked with ginger steps to the table, careful not to jar her pounding head, reached for one of the subs and unwrapped it. Jones dove into his while she picked hers apart. She tried to force her usual hearty appetite to appear. She’d need the energy later so she nibbled some of the ends, but it just wasn’t happening. Her stomach was a knot, queasy and tense. She popped the top off the Coke.
Where the hell was Trey? Probably freaking out by now and looking for her. He better hurry because she wasn’t waiting around for him to come to the rescue. Her instincts were screaming at her to get away now, and for once she was confident they were right.
Glancing up, she caught Jones staring at her. His eyes were too bright and he was a little ripe, but otherwise he looked calm.
“You don’t look like him,” he said.
She blinked in confusion. “Like who?”
“Your grandfather. Jack Wilder.”
“My grandfather was Jack Duveau.”
He snorted. “Don’t be stupid, girl. You had to know what he was, and I’m sure your mate checked it out. He couldn’t have found anything, of course.”
She inhaled sharply, curiosity warring with the need to flee. Was he just guessing or well informed? And why was he talking about Jack like he knew he was dead? They didn’t even know that for sure.
“You knew my grandfather?”
He laughed, the sound grating like nails on a chalkboard, and the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end. His eyes turned feral, and she realized he was insane or so close to it the difference didn’t matter.
“I can take you to him,” he said slyly. “Maybe I will after I take care of Trey Williams. No one said you had to live”
For once her intuition was working just fine. She knew what happened to Jack.
“You killed him.”
“Of course,” he said, grinning evilly and spreading his arms wide. “This town wasn’t big enough for the both of us. For such a famous hunter he was very easy to kill.”
She gasped, shocked at the hurt that speared her heart. He’d sucked as a husband. So what? He was still her grandfather. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and lurched, gagging, to the sink. Turning the tap on, she scrunched over and stuck her mouth under the faucet, gulping water and spitting it out.
She rested her elbows on the edge of the sink and hung her head, taking deep breaths. A flash of blue caught the corner of her eye and she canted her gaze to see an old-fashioned porcelain teapot. Behind her she sensed as much as heard Jones move and knew her time was limited. The idea flew through her so fast she didn’t stop to consider it. Grabbing the handle of the pot she spun as Jones leapt. In slow motion she saw the round bottom crash into his skull. His eyes rolled back and he slid to the floor.
She stood frozen in place while a voice in her head screamed run! It took a second to realize the voice was Summer's and her cousin’s desperation freed her feet. She heard a groan behind her as she lurched for the door. Flinging it open, she stumbled off a small porch and skidded to a halt into the night.
The shack sat in a large clearing that appeared to be surrounded by woods. It was too dark to tell for sure, and with no idea where she was she gave her neglected sixth sense free reign. Summer was always harping on her about not practicing. If she got out of this, she’d become an apt pupil. Not if, Tara. Just run. Summer again. The full moon hung low in the sky and she took off in its direction when she heard a low growl and sensed movement from the door.
She made the tree line and hit a brick wall. Leaning her head back, she looked into the feral eyes of Trey’s friend, Jackson. He grinned and put a finger to his lips to signal silence. Snarling echoed through the clearing and she spun in time to see Trey in wolf form leaping through the air at Jones. They crashed together and fell to ground, each jumping right into the fight and going for the other’s throat. This was no test of strength. This was a battle to the death. Tara’s heart lodged in her throat as she watched the older wolf tear a long gash into Trey’s flank. He growled in outrage, but moved so fast he was a blur and wrestled Jones to the ground, jaw clamped over his throat. She heard Jones's neck break with a sickening crack.
Her body was overcome with shudders and she sank to the ground, head in her hands. Someone was sobbing, loud gulping sounds, and she wished the idiot would just shut up long enough for her to get her fuzzy brain working again. It didn’t help when she realized she was the idiot. Crying never helped, but once started she couldn’t stop.
Someone lifted her up and she clung to his arms when she realized it was Trey. He carried her around the cabin and put her in his SUV before turning to murmur something to Jackson and the others she hadn’t identified. She didn’t care. She just wanted to curl up and sleep, wanted her wolf close and making her feel safe again.
Chapter Thirteen
It was several hours later when the tapping woke her. A glance out the bedroom’s window showed the moon high in the sky and she judged it hours after midnight. Trey was curled protectively around her, and taking care not to disturb him, she moved out of his grasp. She grabbed a robe and tread on light feet down the stairs and to the door.
She didn’t check before opening it wide, knowing Summer waited on the other side. The evening in the woods seemed to have opened the floodgate of her powers. She felt it flow through her freely for the first time in years and reveled in the beauty of it. She’d expected her cousin to come, and in mutual silence they went to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee.
"Jack didn’t abandon us," she said when they were seated at the table. "Jones killed him."
Summer sighed. "I figured." She paused. "I don’t think it would have mattered to Tinnie. She created a spell and broke their bond l
ong before he died."
Tara stared at her. "I didn’t think that was possible."
"They don’t know. I've spent enough time around werewolves to be sure of that. You have it now actually. It's somewhere in the books we stored at your house."
Tara could be free, but did she want to be? She wouldn’t be able to figure that out here in Trey's house. In his bed. Since Jones was dead there was no reason she couldn’t go home. She sensed Trey approaching before he entered the kitchen. She tried not to look as guilty as she felt. He poured a cup of coffee and sat down with them.
“What's going on?” he asked.
“I need to go home, Trey. Summer’s going to give me a ride.”
She saw complete disbelief on his face. “You can’t go. We're bonded, remember?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll only be across town. I need some space and with Jones dead, there’s no reason I can’t leave.”
He growled, and she imagined him throwing his head back and howling. Then he considered forcing her stay, she could see it clearly on his face before he got himself under control. She had no idea what he was thinking, but he nodded curtly and stood up.
“Take your time but don’t get used to it, baby. I’m not letting you go.”
He turned and exited the house, but she didn’t trust that easy capitulation so she rushed to pack her things. It didn’t take long and she paused in the foyer to give the house one last longing look. It would probably be the last. Trey thought the mating bond would bring her back, but Summer had given her the answer to that problem.
Her cousin dropped her off at her house and she went straight to the storage boxes that held Tinnie’s papers. She found it in the third book. It was simple enough and she made a list of the ingredients she didn’t already have, then grabbed a glass, and bottle of wine, and headed for the bathtub. The spell could wait. At that moment she needed relief from the urge to return to Trey that had begun crawling through her. It was just sex. Really good sex, but still.
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