Everyone was staring at her. The book was helping her fill in the holes. Occasionally, new images cropped up, so clear and real she knew they were from her past. As far as she could remember, it was the same. Once her gifts were known, everything changed. Most feared what she could do, thought her a freak. According to the notes in the book, they’d had to flee to avoid prosecution for witchcraft.
“Byron was dead.” Dante’s eyes narrowed.
Ellen glanced at Hollis. “Not long. The spirit lingers…the body holds on to its former state. Especially if the death is violent or unexpected. It’s a shock to the soul as much as the body.”
“That’s freaky shit, Ellen,” Anders sounded off.
“I agree.” Ellen nodded. “It isn’t always a pleasant experience.”
Hollis sat beside her, his thigh pressed against hers. “We’ve been working through the vault. Most of my collection belonged to her original pack. Including a journal. It contains more valuable information than all my years of research has provided.”
“Have you read it yet?” Finn asked Hollis.
“We’ve started. It’s slow going.” Hollis took her hand. “It’s exhausting work. Fucking draining.”
“It’s a record of the wolves.” She shook her head. “Elder scribes maintained it. Our heritage, rites and customs, maps we’ve traveled, and a record of births and deaths.” She glanced at the faces on the screen. “I remember pieces, pulled from the stories read aloud.” She shrugged, awash with memories faded around the edges.
“So your scribes were sort of like Hollis?” Anders asked. “All-knowing and shit? Were they condescending, too?”
Hollis sighed, but the rest were laughing.
She threaded her fingers with his. “They were revered, as he is.” He was looking at her, but she couldn’t look at him. She’d already revealed enough to their audience. What she and Hollis shared was none of their business.
“Maybe if we knew more about our heritage and origin, perhaps things between us and the Others wouldn’t be so tense.” Finn’s gaze was direct.
Ellen shook her head. “Nothing would ease that. Save Cyrus’s demise.”
“That’s the only option?” Dante asked.
Mal rubbed his hands together. “Sign me up. I’m ready.”
“Is there anything in the book that can help us?” Anders asked. “Defeat him, I mean?”
“Not so far,” Hollis said.
“You didn’t know the book was there?” Finn asked Hollis.
“No idea. It’s been hidden in the trunk for years.” Hollis’s thumb brushed along her knuckles. “The things in the vault—spoke to her.” She appreciated the effort he was making to keep touching her. Did he know his touch eased her? Or was his wolf publicly staking his claim on her? Neither was bad.
“How does that work?” Anders piped up. “Books don’t talk, normally, you know. I’m not saying I don’t believe you cuz I’ve seen enough shit to know things aren’t cut and dry.” Anders had a way with words. “But this is right up there with the whole turning into a wolf thing.”
“If you’re a reader, you tend to be in tune. Alive or dead, past or present, written or spoken—I hear what needs or wants to be heard. Animate and inanimate objects, too, it seems,” she murmured. “It was useful for identifying wounds, their causes, and treating them.”
Olivia nodded. “Like having a built-in CAT scan.”
She nodded.
“You were born with it?” Finn asked. “Not taught?”
“I’ve never known a turned wolf to have the gift.” She paused. “From what I remember.”
“Back up, I’m betting that went over well.” Mal snorted. “Having someone get into your head. Most people wouldn’t like that.”
“No, they don’t. And I wouldn’t—don’t.” Ellen said.
“Cyrus knew?” Finn asked. “And used you power for his benefit?”
She stiffened but nodded.
The change in mood was palpable. Anger, fear, the call to hunt—all justified.
Finn leaned against his desk, his gaze searching her long and hard before he drew in a deep breath. “How did you lose your memory?”
“She sustained a massive head trauma,” Hollis interrupted, the edge in his voice growing. His wolf, ready to defend and protect her.
“What happened?” Finn kept his gaze pinned to her.
“Cyrus. He—the day my pack was wiped out.” She paused, awash in pain.
She avoided the screen then, needing to stay strong. It would be natural for Finn and his pack to panic over her words. They should. But knowing what Cyrus was capable of would ensure the same fate wouldn’t befall them.
“Your pack?” Mal growled.
Olivia’s voice wavered. “All of them?”
Her memories were still hazy, but she and Hollis had been able to piece together much of what happened. “We had tried to make peace, to make allies with the Others’ pack. William was the Alpha then, his brother Cyrus his second. Our pack’s abilities made us an asset or an enemy. To avoid bloodshed, William and I agreed to become a mated pair.”
“Wait, you can choose?” Anders sat forward. “Then why has Finn, Mal, and Hollis all lost their minds over their mates? It’s scary as shit. Couldn’t they choose not to bond? And, you know, stay sane.”
Ellen smiled. “Bonds are different. Your pack has true mated pairs, unbreakable for life, making their beasts stronger. William and I chose to for the good of the species—for peace. Once Cyrus realized we could use reading beyond healing, he became…obsessed.”
She took the glass of water Hollis offered her and smiled at him.
“Say what you will about Cyrus, he can weave a spell with words. He convinced the Others that we were witches, capable of mind-control. They’d all seen us reading—it wasn’t too great a leap. No matter the species, we fear what we don’t know.” She paused. “All who opposed him were killed—my mate and my daughter as well.” The quiet that fell was too heavy with fury and sadness.
“His pack didn’t resist keeping you? Since you were a witch, too.” Finn’s jaw clenched, a quick look Hollis’s way told her he regretted asking the question. But it was too late, he’d asked and she would answer.
These memories were all too sharp. “I had power he wanted to exploit. He said he could control me as his mate.” Her teeth clenched. “A silver collar weakens the body but not the spirit. I made it clear that would never happen.” That’s when she’d visited the hole for the first time.
“Motherfucker.” Hollis pushed out of his chair and stalked the length of the room, his growl tearing at her calm. “You don’t have to do this.”
Hearing this hurt him. If the roles were reversed—she didn’t want to think about it. But she straightened, refusing to buckle under the weight of the pack’s gaze. Hers was a story of shame. But it would not define her.
“I’m guessing he wasn’t happy about that?” Mal asked, his smile hard and mean. “I’d have loved to see that—you pissing him off. And there was nothing he could do about it.”
Cyrus had done plenty. Her skin was covered in the scars to prove it. But she didn’t want to share more than she had to.
“Once his pack started to weaken and die, he wanted me to cure them. Their females could not breed. Those who did deliver, lost their infants within days of birth.” She swallowed, heat scorching her skin. She’d no love for the pack, but the loss of those children haunted her dreams. “There was nothing I could do.” She cleared her throat, trying to distance herself from the shame that boiled up inside of her. “I was weak from imprisonment but even when I grew stronger, I was useless.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Their sickness had no cause or cure, nothing to treat.”
“They’re dying?” Dante asked. “We can’t just wait them out?”
“Not all of them. Only those Cyrus has turned the last few years.” She paused.
“What do you think? What does your wolf say?” Finn asked.
E
llen had spent hours pondering the cause. “Wolves are loyal, noble, and strong. Their pack—their family—is what makes them so. Your pack is strong and united. They seek to protect and defend—as Mal did for Olivia. The Others are none of those things. Because their Alpha has forgotten what it is to be a true wolf.”
“Being a wolf is pretty fucking awesome.” Anders chuckled.
There was a rumble of overall approval—surprising her. Perhaps not all of the pack was eager for a cure. It was heartening to know.
“Why keep you then? If you couldn’t cure the pack?” Dante was still skeptical.
She swallowed. “My blood. It made him more powerful. And as his pack weakened, he craved strength more than anything. He needed me for that. According to Tess, still needs me.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mal asked.
“Jesus.” Anders covered his face with his hands.
“He drank your blood?” Dante was up, rolling his neck and staring at the ceiling.
“I’m so sorry, Ellen,” Olivia spoke softly. “And I’m angry—for you. I wish there was something I could do.”
“We will do something.” Finn’s words were a promise. “We will kill him.”
“Not like this. Not full of anger—prone to mistakes. He’d like that. He’d have the advantage.” She shook her head, hating the guilt and shame her past stirred. “I will kill him. It is my right. A promise I made, a promise I must keep.”
All eyes were on her then, but no one said a word. What could they say? Her wolf was on alert, challenging them to argue with her. She’d bared her soul to them, but they’d be foolish to think that made her weak. Her past made her—her wolf—fierce and strong. And now they understood why.
“This is really some pissing match for him? The one with the biggest dick wins?” Anders asked.
“Yes. Not that I’d ever say it that way.” She smiled, in spite of the tension stiffening her spine.
“Why target Jessa and the children?” Olivia asked. “Just to get to Finn?”
Ellen didn’t want to answer that question. Olivia was still naive to know just how dark this world could be.
“For breeding,” Finn ground out.
“You said your blood made him strong?” Hollis spun to look at her, his eyes full of rage—his wolf’s eyes. “Because you’re a born wolf.”
The moment Finn understood, he sagged forward. His hands stiffened, his fingers gripping the edge of his desk until the wood splintered and the sides collapsed in.
Nothing compared to that feeling. Nothing. Cyrus wanted his children for their blood. They, like her, would make him powerful. Considering how much stronger Finn’s pack was, who knew what the children’s blood would do to Cyrus.
Coldness seeped into her, bone-deep and horrible.
Hollis was breathing hard and wild-eyed and on the verge of losing it—again. And it tore at her heart.
Her wolf responded instantly. She wanted nothing more than to be alone with her mate, to give and receive comfort. But she knew the truth. Until Cyrus was dead, any comfort they’d find was fleeting.
Chapter Eighteen
Hollis was barely keeping it together. His wolf pushed to get out. As far as it was concerned, they needed to hunt down Cyrus and rip him into tiny pieces now. This minute. His body was shaking. Violence wasn’t something he approved of, but the more Ellen talked, the more he was beginning to agree with his wolf.
No matter how hard he concentrated on breathing and staying calm, his wolf rebelled. Skin tight. Aching bones. Jaw clenched. Even his eyes felt dry and swollen. His wolf was growing impatient. Everything was braced—ready. But there was nothing he could do. What the hell would happen if his wolf forced his way out? He needed to learn how to communicate with his wolf or this could end badly.
“It won’t be easy. He’s lived a long time. This—we—are merely entertainment.” The edge to Ellen’s voice told him she was struggling.
If she was struggling, he would be fucking strong, for her. She was strong and fierce and powerful, but Cyrus had kept her caged. He understood the hate she felt—it made his blood boil to think about it. It took every ounce of self-control he had to steady his heart rate, his breathing, and fight the red from his gaze.
When Finn spoke, it was hard and cold. “How long has he been alive?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “My memories only go back so far.”
“When was that?” Finn asked, his earlier reticence gone.
“Nineteen hundred and six. In the aftermath of the San Francisco earthquake.” Ellen’s voice was equally matter-of-fact.
Hollis looked at her, longing to pull her up and into his arms. He respected her show of strength but knew she’d only last so long. It had been hard for her to share with him, her mate, so this was worse. But only he could see her hands, white-knuckled and clenched, resting in her lap.
He reached for her, resting his hand on her back.
She glanced up at him, her gaze haunted—lodging a knot in his throat. His wolf growled, rearing up inside of him. Touching her was his only choice, calming him and the wolf.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and took in his pack’s reactions. Now that he had Ellen, he knew exactly what his Alpha was thinking about.. Finn was thinking of Jessa, of course he was, rigid with fear and anger. She was his mate, his world, and he had yet to turn her. He and his children would live lifetimes without her. Hollis couldn’t imagine it. Luckily, he wouldn’t have to.
Mal tugged Olivia close, burying her nose against his temple, smiling.
While Anders and Dante sat, stunned.
“Talk about taking lifelong commitment to a whole new level,” Anders quipped, easing the tension in the room.
“Anything else?” Mal asked, studying Ellen.
“I think this is more than enough for now,” Finn argued. “Mal, Olivia, head back tomorrow. Hollis, Ellen, wrap things up and head to the refuge as soon as possible.”
“Give us a few days? Saturday?” Hollis said.
“The plane will be on standby.” Finn nodded. “Once this is all over, we should all visit the vault.” He smiled. “I’m grateful for what you’ve shared, Ellen. I know it wasn’t easy.”
Ellen nodded but remained silent.
“See you soon.” Finn paused. “Sighting or not, we need to be on high alert.”
The Others’ quiet was abnormal. They moved about with a sort of reckless challenge, daring the world to intervene and taunt their beasts. For entertainment. Ellen’s simple explanation had been horrifying. And illuminating. Whatever happened between the packs would decide their future. Finn’s pack, their wolves, could not let Cyrus win.
He had a lot to learn when it came to his wolf. But imagining Cyrus’s death was something they could both enjoy. His wolf wanted to taste his blood, to split skin and bone with his teeth, to hear the man’s screams, and watch as the life drained from his eyes. It unsettled the shit out of him. And filled him with strength that made him believe he could, somehow, manage to carry out this fantasy.
His hands fisted at his sides, still grappling with all she’d been through. Avenging his mate was not a burden to his wolf, or to him. It was a necessity.
“How do you turn the thing off?” Mal asked, shielding his eyes as he stooped to turn off the projector.
“Here,” he offered, flipped off the projector, and tried not to look at Ellen. If he did, she might sense his wolf. And then what? She wanted Hollis to accept him, to find a way for them to work together. He did, too. For the first time in his life, he wanted to be a wolf—to shift and fight and defend his pack. And his mate.
Self-loathing and frustration threatened to consume him.
His heart murmur prevented his ability to shift, but that wouldn’t prevent him from unleashing his wolf. Could his human form do what his wolf wanted? Glancing at Ellen, he knew the answer. He had no choice. Sitting, curled up in that chair, she was fragile.
He took her hand as they made the
ir way from the Robbins Pharmaceuticals and Research facility and made the drive from the medical research park to their hotel downtown. He was aware of snippets of conversation, places to have dinner, going dancing, the lights and water show along the river. But his mind was crowded and his body strung tight.
When they arrived at the hotel, Ellen yawned.
“Tired?” His gaze settled on the tattooed scar by her eye. Where had that come from? Did he dare ask? He swallowed. No. No more questions tonight.
She nodded. “I’ll have a shower and then we can have dinner?”
“Sounds good,” Olivia said, walking with her to the elevators.
“We’ll be up in a minute…getting a drink first,” Mal said, nudging him, hard, in the side. Once the women were on the elevator, Mal turned on him. “You need to chill the fuck out. You’re giving off all sorts of hunting vibes and, as far as I know, that’s not an option for you.”
Hollis glared at him and headed into the bar.
“You’re welcome, by the way. Figured you could let off some steam here and give her a break.” Mal sat on the barstool beside him. “Today had to have been hell for you.” He gestured for the bartender. “Whiskey. Leave the bottle.”
In the beginning, Mal matched him drink for drink. When Mal switched to beer and he ended up drinking alone, he didn’t know. Instead of comfortably numb, he wound up fuming. He knocked back his drink and then slammed the glass onto the counter. Mal stared at him, ever watchful—but blissfully silent.
“Done yet?” Mal asked, eyeing the near-empty bottle on the bar. “I need to pack.”
“Who’s stopping you?” Hollis bit back. “I’m not done getting drunk.”
“Because that solves every damn thing.” Mal sighed.
Hollis scowled. “I’m so goddamn tired of being the one to solve everything.” He couldn’t do a fucking thing about this. Any of it. He stared at the blinking fluorescent beer lights over the mirrored back of the bar. “What fucking good is problem-solving when you’re facing sociopaths? With teeth and claws?”
“I thought you liked being the brains behind the pack.” Mal sipped his beer.
Protecting the Wolf's Mate (Blood Moon Brotherhood) Page 21
