But it had felt real. She could still feel Kal’s hands on her. Touching her, caressing her. She could feel his mouth on hers and against her skin. His tongue licking parts of her he never should have been able to reach. And she hated him for it.
After nearly fifteen minutes of aimless walking, Amara found herself standing outside the small, square building the Pack used to house their criminals awaiting trial. That was where Kal was being held. She snorted. Of course that was where her feet had led. It made perfect sense. And now that she was there, she wanted to see him. If only to see him rotting in a cell, all alone.
Striding forward, she recognized the guard on duty as Ivanah’s little brother, Iso. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. So young for such an important job. He probably didn’t even realize how important it was; what level of trust they must have had in him. To a young man who loved adventure, standing guard in one spot all night was most likely the most boring job he could imagine.
Well, she was about to shake things up a bit.
Iso nodded his greeting when he saw her.
“Can I go in?” she asked him.
He shook his head in apology. “I’m sorry, Amara,” he told her, and he sounded like he meant it. “My orders are strict. No one goes in.”
“Oh, come on,” she goaded, irritation coating her voice. “It’s not going to hurt anything. I’m not going to set him free or anything. Just let me in.”
Iso frowned, clearly uncomfortable. “I really am sorry, but I have my orders.”
“Let her pass,” a deep voice said from behind her.
Amara spun around, her eyes widening in surprise. “Nova?” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”
“Of course, I followed you.” His voice held no shame. Only sympathy. He knew. “Nemoy told me what happened,” he admitted, confirming her suspicions. “I figured you would end up here sooner or later.”
“Oh.”
Nova turned to Iso. “It’s okay. Let her through.” The young man obediently stepped aside. “Do you want me to go with you?” he asked her.
Amara shook her head. “No,” she replied, and he winced. “I really need to do this alone.” She knew she was hurting him by keeping him out, but she had no choice. Regardless of what his brother had told him, her next conversation with Kal had to be done without Nova.
Though it pained him, Nova nodded.
Taking a deep breath, Amara started forward. When she reached the door, however, she hesitated with her hand hovering over the handle. She glanced back over her shoulder. “I love you,” she told Nova.
To her relief, he smiled, and there was no pain in it. “I know,” he said. “I love you, too.”
With that, Amara opened the door and stepped inside.
It was a small room, mostly open space and bars. Amara stood at one end of a narrow hallway, separated from the rest of the room by the steel bars of the two jail cells. The first one was empty. Kal sat on the flat bed of the second one.
Slowly—oh, so slowly—Amara made her way to the other end of the hall. She peered through the bars at the enemy. This Kal looked nothing like the one in her dream. That Kal had been clean, and fit, and in charge. He exuded power, even if most of it was just a sham. But this Kal, he finally looked like the rat that he was. His hair was dirty and matted against his head. Grime covered his face and skin, as if he hadn’t taken a bath in days, even though the cell contained a small shower. Even his clothes were disgusting. And the smell. The smell was like nothing she had ever experienced before; all body odor and human filth. He barely even straightened when he saw her, though she could sense that he had gone on high alert.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” she murmured, gripping the bars and peering at him between them. “How does it feel to be on the other end of the blade now, Kal?” She could feel every malicious thought she’d ever had about him rise to surface. She hated him. So much. And she hated herself for what she had done with him in the dream. Even though she knew it wasn’t real, she could still feel it as if it were, and seeing him there in person turned her stomach.
Kal’s lips slowly curved up in a cold, cruel smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Princess?” he asked. “It’s not every day I get visitors like you.”
“You shouldn’t get visitors at all.” She glared at him, letting the hatred burn through her. “You should be dead.”
“Should I?” he asked, unfolding himself from the bed and standing. Instinctively, she wanted to take a step back, but she forced herself to stay put. “Should I be dead? And why is that? Because your boyfriend thinks so?” Reaching through the bars, he ran a finger down her cheek. It was just a whisper of a touch, but she could still feel the way the blade had sliced into her skin. “Tell me, Lovely, what is it that you think of me? Because I know you think of me.”
“What do I think?” she repeated incredulously, slapping his hand away. Kal laughed. “I think you’re a horrible, hateful, excuse for a man,” she told him, grimly satisfied when the smirk slipped from his lips. “I think you’re nothing but a little boy in search of Daddy’s approval and lusting after things you can never have. I think you hurt people to feel powerful, to feel brave. Which is ironic, actually, since hurting people like that makes you a coward instead.
“I think you feel like you have to prove yourself all the time. You feel worthless, and you’re convinced that the rest of the world will see you the same way. And you know what the sad thing is, Kal? There may have been a time when you would have been wrong. You may have been worth loving once, worth saving. Worthy of love from someone who actually wanted to love you.” The vein pulsed at his temple and a muscle ticked at his jaw. She was getting to him, and she knew it. And she didn’t care.
“You’re not worth loving, anymore, Kal,” she told him. “You’ve done too many horrible things. You’ve enjoyed doing them. What woman, what father, would want to love a man like that? And what self-respecting man would want the love of someone who could?
“You know how awful you are so you try to make up for it. But don’t you see? Look around you, Kal Vann.” She indicated the entirety of the room. “You’ve lost. This isn’t your world anymore. It isn’t your war. And your father isn’t coming to your rescue. You’re all alone. They’re going to execute you for your crimes. And nobody is going to miss you when you’re gone.”
For the length of a full minute, they stared at one another, glaring. The hatred that boiled between them was off the charts. Finally, Amara had had enough. Turning on her heel, she walked away from him, leaving him staring after her as she went back through the door.
She didn’t look back.
Chapter 13
Nova followed Amara back to her house that night. He kept his distance—he knew she needed it—but he made sure to keep her tail lights in view. The Trial had rocked her; he knew it had. Truth was, it had rocked him, too. Getting Tased like that, feeling his body lose control, feeling every muscle spasm until he lost consciousness, had messed with his mind. Even when he came out of the vision, he had still been shaking.
His first thought was for Amara. Was she okay? What had happened with Kal? Did he hurt her? And when he found out the truth…Nova cringed. When he found out the truth of what Amara had to do to get away, he had hated himself even more for not being there for her. His stomach turned any time he thought about it. He couldn’t even imagine what she had gone through; what she was still going through.
It was like she’d been a stranger when she walked out of the building where Kal was being held. Her face was gray and drained of her color, and her eyes…her eyes had been haunted.
Buildings began to surface over the horizon as they came up on Strathford. When he reached the top of the hill, all he could see were lights. It was amazing to Nova that he had lived in the area, had been watching over Strathford in one way or another his entire life, but he had never really gotten involved in the everyday workings of the town.
Until her.
Now, Nova could look out over the houses and buildings that made up Amara’s home and he knew, more or less, what was happening on those streets. He knew that Murphy’s was just starting to heat up, that the regulars were sitting at the bar or the back tables enjoying a few beers before they went home to their wives. He knew that Zoe and Mitch were waiting those tables, serving the drinks, and fighting like cats in the street, then making out in the stock room. He knew that old Mr. Taylor, across the street from Amara, was most likely asleep in his lounge chair in front of his TV, a glass of milk on the coffee table and a remote in his hand. He knew Amara’s mother, Cathleen, was sitting in her living room with a blanket and her knitting needles watching a cooking show, and that Mac, the dutiful sheriff, was probably in his office pouring over case files to catch the latest bad guy.
Nova could only hope he was trying to catch Amara’s stalker.
Turning onto Amara’s street, he waited until she had parked in her driveway before pulling in behind her. She didn’t so much as look at him before making her way up to the porch. Giving her space, he tried not to take it personally.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Nova followed her up the front porch steps. He nearly ran into her when he reached the top. She was frozen, staring at the door. “Babe? What is it?”
Amara didn’t say a word. Instead, she just raised a hand and pointed at the door. Nova followed the line of her finger and raised a brow before his entire face fell into a frown. A bundle of blood-red roses—two dozen, at least—sat on the Welcome mat. A stark white envelope was attached to the stems. No bugs or rotten blooms this time. Apparently, he had figured his shit out after she’d gone to the sheriff.
As if she were coming out of a trance, Amara darted forward and knelt down next to the bouquet. She plucked the envelope from its tie and pulled out the note. For a moment or two, she just stared.
“Mara?”
Silently, she held it up to him. She didn’t speak; didn’t even look at him. She just stared at the roses. Nova leered down at the white cardstock message in his hands. He flipped it open. Inside, the words were bold, black, and written in all caps. He stared.
“I’M SORRY ABOUT BEFORE,” it read. “I’M GLAD I CAN MAKE IT UP TO YOU.”
What an odd choice of words, Nova thought. ‘I’m glad I can make it up to you.’ Was this guy so delusional that he really thought a nice bouquet and lame apology was going to make it better? The man was taunting her, stalking her, and he seemed to think that meant they were in some kind of relationship?
Not just delusional then, he decided, but dangerous. And after everything Amara had gone through because of her involvement with the Pack, he’d be damned if he let some nut job put her through anymore.
Movement caught his eye and Nova looked up in time to see Amara snatch the flowers from the ground. Letting out a scream of rage, she raised the roses over her shoulder like a bat and brought them down with enough force in a swing that would have made her father proud. She beat the bouquet against the porch rail over and over and over again, until there was nothing left in her hand but stems. Red petals covered the boards of the porch around her feet, but she didn’t seem to notice. All she was focused on was her anger and those roses.
Nova waited until she stood there, her chest heaving, and let the stems drop to the ground, before he went to her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her back against him and pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck. “Sshh,” he whispered, his breath a caress against her cheek. “Sshh. It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. He’s not here. They’re just flowers, and they’re gone. You destroyed them. They don’t matter anymore.” Nova took a deep breath, then steeled himself to say what he knew he needed to say.
“He doesn’t matter anymore,” Nova said. He didn’t dare say Kal’s name, but he knew it was him she was thinking of while she was destroying the flowers. “He’s locked up, Mara. He’s not going to get out. None of that shit you had to do during the Trial was real. None of it. Do you hear me, Amara Townsend?” he asked, pulling her to him. “None of it was real. It was only in your head.”
“Yeah, well, in my head or not, it still sucks,” she grumbled darkly. “And I still hate him for all of it.”
Nova closed his eyes. “I know, baby. I know you do. But it wasn’t real. And Amara, look at me.” Placing a finger under her chin, he tipped her face to look at him. “You did what you had to do. You did it to get away. To come find me. There is nothing wrong with that, do you hear me? Nothing.”
She stared at him for what felt like ages, before finally giving in with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll take your word for it, anyway. Maybe I just need to sleep.”
A slow smile crept across Nova’s lips. “Nope. What you need is a long, hot, bubble bath. Some candles, maybe some wine.” He nipped her ear lobe with his teeth. “Maybe me.”
Despite herself, Amara laughed. It was strained, to be sure, but it was still a laugh. Nova considered that progress. “Come on,” he said, and let her inside. He would come back for the note and flowers later.
Hours later, when Amara was finally asleep, Nova slipped out of bed and hastily tugged his clothes on before padding through the house. As quietly as he could, he opened the back door and stepped out into the night. The air was crisp and cool, and he welcomed the wildness midnight brought. It was one of the things he loved most about being a shifter; the way he could slip his skin to become a beast, to become part of the world that enveloped him instead of just living in it.
Amara’s house was bordered by a fence and a wall of arborvitae on one side, and a low stone wall that looked out into a field on the other. Beyond the field, a mere hundred yards or so, was the forest. Nova reached the wall and stared out into the trees. Pursing his lips, he let out a low whistle. And then he waited.
He didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes, Nate came loping out of the woods, his dark hair slick with sweat and he wore nothing but a pair of skin-tight biking shorts. It wouldn’t surprise Nova a bit to learn the younger man had just shifted back to human form. It was much easier to guard someone when all of your wolf senses were active and you weren’t hampered by your human form.
“I came as soon as I heard,” Nate told him, his chest heaving.
“Report,” Nova ordered with a nod.
Nate shook his head. “Nothing here to report, sir. As ordered, we were following Amara. No one was here during the day. No one saw him leave the roses.”
“Could you get a scent off of them?”
“No. They’d been there too long by the time you guys got home, and then Amara…well, you saw what she did. Is she okay?” His concern was so genuine, Nova thought. He tried not to be jealous as his territorial wolf senses pushed to the surface. Amara had made an impact on more than just him, he knew. Half the Pack adored her. The other half may not have been her biggest fans—being human and all—but they did respect her. So of course, Nate was worried about her.
He must just be on edge, Nova decided. What with all this stalker business, the Trials, and the bullshit that happened with Kal that night, it was no wonder he was beginning to suspect everyone. But if he started distrusting his own pack, the very men he commanded and patrolled with, then he was really in trouble.
“Yeah,” he told Nate, “she’s okay. She’s sleeping.”
“I bet she’s really freaked.”
Nova frowned, slightly baffled. “You know, I thought she would be. I think she’s irritated and a little unnerved, but I’m pretty sure it’s the Trials that are getting to her more than anything else.”
Nate’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? I figured those would be cake. You two are such a great couple.”
“You know as well as I do that those Trials are designed to test the very heart of your character. Why on earth would you assume they would be easy?”
Nate bowed his head. “I’m sorry, sir. I meant no disrespect. It’s just, I don’t know…no one ever talks about what happens in the Tri
als. I didn’t realize they were so…hard.” He shrugged his apology.
Sighing, Nova clapped his hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Look, I think I’m going to make a lap or two around the house, see if I can catch a scent or something. Stay close to the house, yeah?” When Nate nodded, Nova took off at a jog toward the woods. When he reached the edge of the tree line and he was sure he was out of sight, he stripped off his clothes and stashed them behind a rock.
Then he began to change.
His body began to contort and he dropped to all fours as his bones shifted from human to canine. His face elongated and widened into that of a wolf. His teeth became longer, sharper, and fur exploded from his skin.
Then came his senses.
It was as if the night exploded around him. Everything was sharper; sight, smell, taste. Even the night was brighter, despite the darkness. He could feel the air ruffling his fur, feel every twig and rock beneath his feet. And when he began to run, Nova could taste the wind whipping all around him.
He circled the perimeter, once, twice, trying to gauge a sense of the smells that should have existed in that space so he could detect the ones that should not. He could identify the smells of Amara, Nate, himself. Even Mac’s scent was there mixed with Alec, his deputy, and Mitch. They must have been looking for clues as well, because the scents were no more than six hours old. When he had a feel for the area, he moved closer to the house. Still, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Then…there. Near the porch, beneath the bathroom window. He couldn’t tell who it had been, but someone had smelled of fear, excitement, and anger.
Circling back, he shifted into a man once more and whistled for Nate.
“Anything?” the young wolf asked. Nova shook his head. “Damn.”
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