The hard lines surrounding Darcy’s green eyes softened and another smile curled her lips. “You forgave him, didn’t you?”
“Right before I claimed him as mine. We can’t change the past, and I have a feeling every time he sees me he’ll be reminded of his crimes. Hopefully that will keep him motivated in the future to use wisdom.” Dragging my knuckle across her cheekbone, it was my turn to speak what was on my mind. “Ready to tell me what happened?”
“I just did,” she answered quickly, knowing full well I didn’t mean the transporting of wolves to the mansion.
“Sweetheart,” I chided softly, bringing her forehead to rest on mine. “I saw. I felt it.”
A tremble coursed through her. “So you know.” Shame filtered through our connection.
“Talk to me,” I encouraged, refusing to let her hide her face. “We’re a team, remember?”
Her words came slowly at first, but the longer she talked, the stronger her heartache resounded in the recounting. Knowing I wasn’t there in judgment, Darcy expressed how completely consuming her need for blood had become, finally ending with the fear she couldn’t quite shake ever since.
“What if Devlin hadn’t been there to stop me? What if I’d given myself over entirely? I was the greatest threat there. Me. Not the Master. Not Helena, or traumatized wolves. It was me.” Heavy tears trickled over her cheeks.
“I know it doesn’t feel like it, but everything you need to overcome this, you have.” Her heart beat against the palm of my hand as I rested it over her chest. “You have it here. Trust yourself.”
She snorted in disbelief. “This isn’t something you can simply wish away, Mason. I’ve tried. I thought I could handle it and ended up knocked on my ass.”
“If I honestly thought you were some kind of monster and threat, I never would’ve taken you in the first place. I would’ve asked Moses to watch over the new wolves. After today, don’t you think I’d have put you inside a silver cage until we figured out how to help you through this?” Her expressive eyes widened, not in shock or indignation, but because she knew I meant every word. “Yes, I’m your mate and will always protect you, but I’m also your Alpha. I will do whatever necessary for good of the Pack, which includes you. I would hate every second of it. I would stoically bear the brunt of your hurt and betrayal. But I would do it because I love you.”
Darcy’s bottom lip quivered with barely restrained emotion. “I know.”
“As your Alpha, I need you to keep working on whatever skills you need so you’re better prepared in the future. Talk with Devlin, Asher, Zane . . . hell, even Vlad, and find out what tools and techniques they use. Train with them. Practice. Don’t let self-loathing and guilt keep you from conquering this.”
“And as my mate?” she whispered, ever-so-softly.
“Don’t shut me out. Don’t carry this burden alone. If you mess up, own it; so together we can work through it. The only thing that scares me about your becoming part-vampire is that it undermines your confidence. It’s twisting the thoughts you have about yourself and making you fear me.”
Her gasp was one of absolute horror as Darcy blanched. “Why would I ever be afraid of you?”
“Why did you tell the others to keep your failing a secret?” I questioned back.
“I wanted to find the right words.” When I didn’t let go of her gaze, she continued. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“I’m your mate, sweetheart. I am yours. I will always be on your side, through the good and the bad. There’s nothing that would turn me away. You need to let go of this new insecurity. It kills me to see you struggle with it.”
If I could, I would take it from her; but even I knew that some of the most powerful lessons needed to be learned in battle, alone. Sometimes the gift of support was better than the natural desire to step in and fix it.
Nodding, there was a slight laugh in her voice. “I always feel better once I’ve talked to you—once I’ve purged.”
“If it keeps you from hiding away in that pretty head of yours, I’m all for it.” I feathered a few small kisses over her brow for good measure.
“I told Devlin, earlier, I was a hot mess.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m addicted to hot messes then, huh?” I teased. A lighter emotion flickered in her eyes and I seized the moment to drive home one more point. “Sweetheart, I can’t do this without you. I don’t say that to add pressure or to make you think I need perfection. In fact, it’s your imperfections that make you irresistible.” She didn’t speak, nodding instead, that she was listening. “I can handle anything you throw at me. I can handle whatever the world throws at me. Fall apart if you have to, just don’t leave me guessing. Our connection shows me what I need to know, but it’s just that, a mental link. I want you to tell me. Okay?”
Cradling her face gently between my hands, I searched her features as I poured all my devotion to her—to us—through that psychic pathway. When the sweet feeling of her love breached my mind, and flowed through my body, I knew we’d be fine.
I was a realistic man. Although we’d gone through so much already, things would continue to rise up that would unexpectedly throw us curve balls. It wasn’t about avoiding them; it was about standing together—a united front—as each struck, adjusting to each blow, while remaining strong and upright.
“Everyone’s asleep,” Darcy murmured, a gradual smile spreading over her face. “And the others are busy.”
“What are you suggesting?” I chuckled, enjoying the way the worried look in her eyes yielded to a more seductive one.
Reaching up on her tiptoes, Darcy’s breath tickled against my ear. “I need you.”
Those three words, said with such longing, almost had me throwing her over my shoulder and charging up to our room. “You do?”
Darcy’s tongue darted lightly across her bottom lip before gently biting it. She simply nodded. She wasn’t the only one desperate for some alone time. There were days . . . hours . . . when I wish we could just hide away in the haven of our bedroom and ignore the world.
“Lead the way then, Mrs. O’Connor.” I submitted, slapping her behind as she grabbed my other hand. Despite the heaviness of our conversation, the air between us sizzled with anticipation. That was another thing I cherished about our relationship—we never dwelled too long on the negative. Once dealt with, we naturally careened toward the more pleasant aspects of our union.
Making love to my wife was number one on my list.
We managed to make it to the foot of the staircase, Darcy’s infectious laughter a happy change from her tears, when a commotion brought me up short.
“I know it’s late, but this can’t wait. I was told I could find him here.” There was something familiar about the voice.
“And I will gladly inform him you are here,” Vlad answered. “If you could wait in the parlor, I’ll bring him to you.”
“So you can warn him? No disrespect, but I’m here on official business. No one will be leaving until I have him in custody.” Finally recognizing who it was, his name quickly followed, Detective Karl Manning.
“He sounds annoyed, Mason,” Darcy whispered, her hand on my chest as we stood there listening.
“Give me a second, sweetheart. I’ll go see what he wants.” Kissing the side of her hair, offering a promise that I wouldn’t be too long, I watched her race up the stairs before heading toward the front entrance.
“Detective,” I greeted, still unsure what was happening. The middle-aged officer’s eye lit up as I approached, Vlad whipping around when he heard me.
“Mason . . .” he uttered, shaking his head in warning.
“Good, you’re here.” Gesturing to the two officers flanking behind him, Karl raised his badge. “Mason O’Connor, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will, be used against you in a court of law.”
“You’re arresting me?” I asked, alarmed. I took an involuntary step back as one of the officers approached wit
h handcuffs, as if they could hold me, anyway.
“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”
“Yes, I understand. What I don’t understand is why you’re here to arrest me. On what charge?”
It was with total disgust that he answered. “Suspicion of murder.”
Chapter Twelve
Mason
Slamming my fist down hard on the interrogation room table, nothing I said seemed to make even the slightest bit of difference. Detective Manning was adamant he’d caught his suspect and I was guilty.
“I had nothing to do with those deaths. Twist the way you ask your questions, but my answer remains the same. You have the wrong guy.”
We’d been going back and forth for the past thirty minutes. When Wade and I left the Silver Canyon property, it had been under the assumption that the Enforcers would be arriving shortly afterward to remove all evidence of the massacre.
According to Manning, however, the police had received an anonymous tip that a crime had been committed and they’d beaten Zane’s enforcement team to the site—discovering the same heinous bloodbath we had.
It sickened me to think that precious time was being wasted when the true villain was still at large, leaving a path of destruction in his wake. For each brutality and death the Master exacted upon innocent people, my thirst for vengeance grew.
“Then explain this!” he fired back, hitting something on the table. My wallet sat between us, proof that I’d been there.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I was tired of talking in circles. “I think I’ll wait until my lawyer arrives.”
“That may be a wise idea, Mr. O’Connor.” Manning pushed away from the table, clearly frustrated I hadn’t already signed a confession. Storming from the room, the door slammed closed behind him. I couldn’t fault him for almost losing his temper. I’d been there. I’d seen the bodies. I could still smell the sickly scent of blood.
While he had my wallet, it wasn’t enough to pin the entire case on me. Hunger burned in his eyes, the need for justice. What he didn’t know was that same fire marked me, as well.
He also didn’t know that I knew exactly who was responsible, I just couldn’t tell him. There was no way he’d believe me, even if I tried. Humans, for all their talk about being curious and open-minded, had a hard enough time accepting the differences amongst themselves—add supernatural creatures to the mix, and chaos would follow.
Love one another and other peace-loving sentiments were wonderful, until tested by the harsh facts of reality. One spark, one glance at a whole, separate world beyond their own, and their self-importance would explode into flames. Fear would shroud their cries for equality and tolerance.
I’d heard the reports of what happened when humans became aware of our existence. The last thing we needed right now was a human crusader hell-bent on a mission to destroy us.
Staring down at my hands, grateful I was no longer cuffed, the situation was spinning out of control, and fast. While I wasn’t sure who would be sent to act as my attorney, I hoped he would be well versed in the law. He’d arrive, work some magic, and I’d be back home in time to rejoin the hunt for the Master.
Two knocks at the door announced the newcomer. Surprise, followed quickly by a loud sigh of relief, was my only response as Zane, himself, walked in. Dressed in a tailored black suit with a bold, red striped tie, he nodded at the officer who’d let him in, dismissing him.
“Sorry, I came as soon as I could.” Lifting me out of the chair, he slapped his hand across my back, embracing me affectionately before returning to business. “I’ve already been apprised of the accusations Detective Manning is trying to pin on you. From what I understand, the only thing he has linking you to the scene of the crime is your wallet.”
For what seemed like the hundredth time, I cussed beneath my breath at my slip-up. I’d been in countless situations where it was crucial I left nothing behind for others to discover. Even with the understanding that Enforcers would make a thorough sweep before declaring the site safe for human scrutiny, I’d trained myself to be careful.
Over and over in my mind, I replayed those last few minutes spent in Michael’s basement. Leaning in, careful to keep my voice low, I whispered. “I swear I picked everything up. I had to shift hastily to ward off an attack; and when I changed back into human form, I scoured the ground for my clothing. My wallet was in the back pocket of my jeans. When I didn’t see it on the ground, I assumed it was in my hand.” I couldn’t help my silent chiding. It was such a rookie mistake, one that was definitely beneath me.
“What’s done is done, Mason. There’s no use crying over spilt milk, as they say,” Zane counseled, sympathy shining in his dark eyes. “What’s important now is that we get these allegations dropped and remove you from all suspicion. Our focus needs to remain on the Master. We can’t afford to divide our attention now, with things becoming so explosive.”
The large window panel drew my gaze, making me wonder if Detective Manning had disappeared for the sole purpose of watching our interaction from behind the two-way mirror. How much of this conversation was being secretly recorded?
“How confident are you in getting me out of here?” I asked, itching to get home to Darcy, my Pack, and my responsibilities.
It was Zane’s turn to sigh now, the space between his brows furrowing as he measured his words. “That’s the dilemma I’ve been debating back and forth. I think the answer lies in how tenacious this detective is.”
“Truthfully? I don’t see him letting this go easily. Yes, he may allow me to leave, but I’ve seen wolves act in a similar manner. He believes he’s caught the scent of his killer, so he won’t be so easily convinced to let me walk.”
“So, in other words, he will keep coming back and asking questions?”
“And poking a big old stick at anything that moves . . . namely me. He’ll put me, and anyone I’m connected to, under a microscope until he finds what he wants.” Frustrated, I dropped into my seat, rubbing my face, tired. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already prepared my jail cell.”
His expression confirmed he reluctantly agreed. “I passed him momentarily in the hallway and came to the same conclusion. Like you said, he feels he’s close to the truth, and you’re his ticket to solving it.” Slipping his hands into his trouser pockets, Zane glanced down at his shoes, bouncing ever so slightly as he thought. “I will need to compel him once he returns to the room. It’s the only way. Had we enough time, we could’ve handled this with a little more finesse; but my instinct tells me we have no choice.”
A common belief held by humans, who believed what they read in books and watch in movies, was that compulsion is a common practice amongst vampires—a stereotype and myth encouraged through media that depicts them as selfish creatures who constantly bend others to their will.
While there are some who overly-indulged in manipulation, Zane, and those who follow him, held themselves to a higher moral code. It was never used without serious contemplation, because influencing someone’s mind always held consequences.
“Are you sure?” I asked, aware of the possible ramifications. While most times, tampering with a human’s mind was successful, it didn’t guarantee that later an unforeseeable trigger would bring forgotten memories flooding back. Compulsion was used as a way to protect and keep a person safe—even if it was from himself.
In this case, Detective Manning was his own worst enemy. He couldn’t be allowed to continue investigating me.
“I am. Let me summon him back to the room under the guise of discussing your charges. I’m eager for this to be resolved.”
I nodded. Me and him, both.
Anxiety boiled in the pit of my stomach. I’d witnessed many compulsions during my time as Alpha, especially in my role within the Supernatural community leadership. Each time had been necessary, but it still left me with a weird feeling.
“Mr. O’Connor won’t be going anywhere, Mr.—” Manning paused long enough for Zane to insert his surname.
“Call me Zane, please.”
“As I told you before, your client is our prime suspect. We found evidence at the crime scene linking him to the twenty murdered bodies we discovered. His wallet was found in a room that our investigators have declared a site of mass torture.” He glared at me with a look of complete abhorrence. “Mr. O’Connor is looking at the death penalty. We haven’t even begun discussing the suspicious scene at his home yet.”
Zane acted quickly, his vampiric speed causing a stir in the air and a disbelieving gasp from Manning. Stunned, I could almost guess what he was thinking—how the hell had my lawyer moved within the blink of an eye? “Wait . . . how?” he stammered, his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly.
“You brought Mason down to the station to personally return his wallet to him. It was found at the convenience store off Main Street in Woodside Hollow and you were eager to see him get it. I was here, meeting with a client, and joined your friendly conversation. You will give me the file you have created for Mason O’Connor, also deleting it thoroughly from the department’s computer system. All evidence and notes you’ve made connecting him with the Silver Canyon killings will be destroyed. You will stop investigating Mason and pursue a different lead.” Each word Zane spoke was heavily laced with vampiric compulsion, capturing the detective’s gaze and holding it. “Repeat back what I’ve told you, so I know you understand.”
Manning blinked once and then broke eye contact. “I don’t know what law school you attended, sir, but talk to me like that again, and I’ll throw you into a cell for obstruction. We do things by the book here.”
Shit, for the first time ever, in my own experience, the compulsion had failed. Not only had it not worked, but it had clearly irritated Manning, judging from the way his face reddened.
Last Wolf Standing (#7, The Mystic Wolves) Page 11
