by Zoe Winters
“I don’t know. I’m in their den, I think. Cole has me.”
“Cole? Jane, you’ve got to get out of there.”
She gritted her teeth. “No, I thought it would be fun to hang out a while. If there was a way out, I would have taken it. I . . .”
The phone was pulled out of her hand. She spun to see Cole pressing the end button. He was standing in a towel, dripping from the shower. Her tongue darted out to wet her suddenly dry lips.
“No phone.”
She moved behind the desk to put something between them. Not that a puny little desk was going to stand in his way if he was going to go psycho over her trying to call for help. Before she could think of anything placating to say, the phone rang again. He answered it.
“Hello . . . Yes, this is Cole Riley . . . Yes, I have Jane . . . No, I won't release her to you . . . the debt is ten thousand dollars . . . Oh, you think you can get Anthony to give you the money? Does Anthony have limitless supplies of cash to cover the gambling debts of his fledge? Let me talk to him.”
Cole’s back was to her as he spoke. Jane sank into the chair and watched the water droplets trail their way down his skin, trying to convince herself it would be fine. Maybe he wouldn’t physically hurt her. She could have sex with him if that was what he wanted from her.
Oh, God, could she have sex with him. She worked to push the images of their bodies sliding against one another out of her mind. He’d kidnapped her. What was wrong with her? What if he passed her around, shared her with the pack?
She shuddered, her fantasy appropriately doused with a bucket of cold reality.
“Anthony, congratulations on the tournament. I haven’t had a chance to call you and congratulate you personally . . . Yes, well, I’ve been busy . . . you know how it is . . . Better you than Linus . . . all right, fine. Yes, I have Jane, and no, I’m not returning her.”
There was a long pause while Anthony delivered what must have been an impressive monologue.
“Have you taken a good look at her lately? She’s got some pretty deep bruises, and on her lower back I noticed what could only be knife wounds. Purposeful, lined up knife wounds. She’s not a cutter unless she’s a contortionist . . . ”
So he’d noticed that. She wanted to melt into the floor.
“ . . . She’s got a bite mark on her throat. You and I both know vampires only leave marks when they want a mark left . . . and it’s not a claim, or he would have protected her. So why exactly do you want her returned? You want to have her abused some more? . . . Fuck you. I’ve never abused a woman. I don’t care if she’s human . . . I don’t care if she’s part of the coven. Let it go, Anthony. Tell your human she can’t have everything she wants just because she’s mated to the vampire king . . . Trust me, she’s safer here. The coven is no place for a human, your mate notwithstanding . . . Goodbye then.”
Jane felt the tears stinging her eyes when Cole turned back around. He slammed the phone against the wall, and it shattered. “Fuck!”
She flinched, and he cursed again.
“Do you realize I almost got into a war over you? What the hell is wrong with me? Are you some kind of witch?”
Jane watched as he melted down in front of her. This wasn’t a good sign. He seemed to be talking more to himself than to her, so she stayed quiet and tried to blend into the background, a skill she’d perfected over the years. Except now pink hair and black leather didn’t blend.
Finally, she found the strength to speak. “Anthony wouldn’t pay you the money?”
Cole stopped pacing and braced himself against the wall facing her. “We didn’t discuss the money. The conversation got sidetracked. You heard it. I can’t believe I’m helping a vampire groupie.”
“Excuse me, but how are you helping me? You’re keeping me prisoner.”
“You’re safer with me than with them. Clearly.”
She decided to let that one go. So far he hadn’t hurt her. And although benefit of the doubt wasn’t the normal operating procedure with preternaturals, Gregory had been decent to her, and he’d swooped in to her rescue, too. He’d been good to her until his political aspirations had overshadowed his concerns with her safety.
“I’m not a vampire groupie. I hate vampires.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and sized her up. “Well, I’m sure you hate vampires now that they haven’t lived up to your romantic fantasies of them.” He pushed off the wall. “Come with me.”
She stayed in the chair, her face wary. “Where are we going?”
“To clean up your face.”
She followed him to the bathroom where he ran a warm damp cloth carefully over her cheek to clean the blood that had dried there. “We should have taken care of this first. It might still get infected,” he said. He placed one hand gently on her shoulder, while using the other to smooth ointment on her cheek.
She took in a sharp breath. He was so warm.
“I’m sorry, does it hurt?”
She blushed. “No. I’m fine.” What was she going to say? Keep touching me because I can’t remember what warm skin feels like on mine? Yeah, that’ll convince him I’m not a vampire groupie.
He cleaned off the bathroom counter, tossed the empty ointment tube into the trash can, and returned the first aid kit to the medicine cabinet. “When was the last time you ate?”
Jane shrugged. She couldn’t remember, but now that he brought it up, she was starving.
“Did they not feed you? Honestly. You can’t keep a human and drink their blood and not feed them. And you want me to let you go? Back to that? Back to Paul?”
She looked away. “I don’t want to go back with Paul, but I have no guarantee you’re safer. Werewolves are the bad guys.”
He sighed and led her to the kitchen. “No, vampires are the bad guys. They’re trying to force us into a police state here. Not that it’s just them. The last werecat tribe leader contributed as well. If it takes off in Cary Town, it’s only a matter of time until it spreads. Sit.” He indicated the chair.
She sat. “Well, I’m human, so you’re both bad guys.”
Cole nodded. “True enough. But I don’t allow my pack to hunt humans.” He took a couple of large steaks out of the fridge. “If you’re a vegetarian you’ll have to get over it.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like red meat.”
“Tough. It has B-12 and iron. And you’ve been a vampire snack for how long?”
Jane looked away. “I was taking supplements.”
“Uh huh.” He seasoned the meat and put it on the grill. “Trust me, you’ll like this.”
Jane had her doubts about that, but he didn’t seem to be in meltdown mode, so why screw with a good thing?
Her gaze raked involuntarily over his body. He hadn’t yet had a chance to dress, and only a towel stood between her and the full monty. A black tribal tattoo snaked around one of his biceps, and she had the sudden urge to trace the design with her tongue.
She watched the muscles of his back bunch and relax as he busied himself with the food preparation. Occasionally a drop of water from his still-wet hair made a daring trail down his back, disappearing into the towel. Jane blushed, trying to remember the circumstances of their meeting and why she shouldn’t be having naughty wrong thoughts about him.
When he put the plate in front of her, she carefully cut off a piece of the meat and took a bite.
“This is actually really good.”
His mouth quirked on one side, revealing an unexpected dimple. “Told you. It’s all about the seasoning and not overcooking it until it’s shoe leather.”
He didn’t seem to be eating much himself. A sudden stray thought slid into her mind. Did he put something in my food? She berated herself silently for being so paranoid. Why would he need to? He had her locked up with no hope of escape, and it wasn’t like she could overpower him. Maybe he was drugging her so she wouldn’t kill him in his sleep.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,
” she said, taking smaller bites.
“No, something’s wrong. Is it the food?”
“It’s nothing.” It probably was nothing. She didn’t feel funny. Well, she felt different, but that was from eating a decent meal. She tried to change the subject. “Why aren’t you eating?”
He looked at the plate of barely touched steak. “I prefer my meat raw, but I didn’t want to gross you out. I’ll hunt later.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, and she dropped her gaze back to her plate, unable to take his intense stare any longer. “You thought I put something in your food.”
She shrugged, embarrassed now. “What are you going to do with me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to hurt me?”
He stood and paced. “Did you not hear me tell Anthony I don’t abuse women?”
She mumbled, “Just because you said it to Anthony doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“Fair enough. But have I given you any reason to think I’m going to start beating on you or cutting you or anything else?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
She was silent for a few minutes, “Do I have to sleep with you? N-not that that would be horrible if you weren’t hurting me or if you didn’t share me with anyone.”
His jaw clenched. “Ask me again why I’m not sending you back there.”
She looked at him expectantly.
“No! Rape is abuse. See earlier statement. And even if I would sink so low, you don’t know werewolves as well as you think if you think we share. I’ll sleep on the couch. You can have the bed.”
He left her alone in the kitchen then. She was mortified by how the discussion must have sounded to him. How she must have looked. She wanted to believe she was safe here, but it seemed highly unlikely he’d just blow in and rescue her. She replayed the scene from earlier in the evening.
When they’d first seen each other in the bar, he’d given her a look. What was it? Interest? Curiosity? Was it sexual? She couldn't remember. The second she’d recognized him from his photo she’d looked away.
Why would he take her instead of ten thousand dollars? Especially when he said he wasn’t going to use her to pay off the debt. She took her plate to the sink and rinsed it off. Cole’s steak sat barely touched. She went through the cabinets until she found some plastic wrap and put it in the fridge. Then she finished straightening the kitchen.
“You don’t have to do that.”
She looked up to see him standing in the doorway. He’d changed into a pair of pajama pants. Cole didn’t strike her as a pajama-pant-wearing kind of guy.
“Well, what else am I supposed to do? How many years of housework will pay off Paul’s debt?”
He growled. “You’re not a slave.”
“Then why am I here? Why take me instead of the money?”
He ran a hand through his hair. It seemed to be something of a nervous tic with him, not that she could throw stones about nervous tics.
“I knew I’d never see that money. If I hadn’t taken you, he would have whored you out for it. I would have felt responsible. I couldn’t have taken money like that, even assuming I could intercept it before he gambled it away. And now I can’t let you go because you’d just go back to him. Abused women always do.”
Jane shook her head. “It’s not a matter of going back. It’s a matter of him not letting me out of his sight. He’d hunt me. And anyway, if it wasn’t him, it would be another vamp. They always find me. I can see them, and they’ll never forgive me for that.”
Chapter Four
Cole tossed and turned on the couch. It was large, but not nearly large enough for his frame. His original intention had been to share the bed with Jane, but that would have created all sorts of problems. For one thing, he wasn’t sure if he could keep his hands off her, even if she had pink hair. And for another, whatever she’d been through, she didn’t need to feel that threat like she was constantly two seconds from attack.
Why did I make this my problem. I can’t save everyone. He’d never wanted control of the pack to begin with. He’d killed the former alpha in a mad rage when he’d caught him raping his mother. Then he was stuck with it. And the pack needed him.
The former alpha had been sadistic and cruel to nearly everyone in one way or another. It had taken almost a year before they’d felt safe again. Now he had Jane on his hands, another person who needed him. Another responsibility he hadn’t asked for.
She’d said she wasn’t a vampire groupie, she hated vampires, and she could see them. He’d flipped those three sound bites over and over in his head for the past hour trying to figure out what it meant. He should have asked for clarification. What the hell did she mean she could see them?
He stared at the ceiling of the cave, counting the little natural indentations. Almost as good as sheep. Sheep.
Damn, now I’m hungry. He listened to Jane’s breathing. She was asleep, but not deeply. Best to wait awhile.
He flung the cover to the floor and padded to the office. He’d do a bit of work, then if Jane had hit REM, he’d go hunting. Cole found the shattered cell phone on the floor and bent to pick up the pieces. No wonder he was freaking her out. He needed to get a grip on himself if he was going to have a human living with him.
“Stop obsessing over what you did, and deal with the choice now,” he said to the empty room. “No sense going over and over it. You rescued a human from a vampire in lieu of ten grand. You’re insane. Let’s move on.”
Satisfied with the self-talk, he dropped the cell phone bits into the trash bin and settled into the big leather swivel chair to work. He typed theriantype.com into the browser window and logged in as an administrator. If half the people who did business with his site knew the owner was a werewolf, they’d flip their lid. He filtered most everything through Mick.
He opened a second window to check email.
“Dammit, Dayne. You little whiner,” he muttered. There was an email from the Board of Magical Merchants showing Dayne Wickham had filed a discrimination claim. It was absurd. Was it discrimination when you didn’t sell a handgun to a career criminal?
Cole had only been a child when Dayne had gone on his psycho killing spree with the werecat tribe, but any ninny knew he was bad news. Freaky old hermit living out in the woods waiting for Hansel and Gretel to stumble upon the place.
He sent an email back to the board explaining his side of the situation. He didn’t have proof of the sorcerer’s misbehavior, but everybody knew he’d done it. It wasn’t as if they could keep records as closely as humans could without detection.
It was ridiculous to Cole that the preternaturals were so afraid of the humans finding out. But due to the human fear of the unknown and their increased technology, it wasn’t a war many felt they could win anymore.
If they could have gotten over their squabbles and joined together in the Middle Ages during the last major supernatural panic, they could have won. But the preternatural factions had been too divided back then.
The vamps had spent the last three centuries organizing and trying to make friends with everyone else. It had worked with everyone but the wolves. That bitterness ran deep.
The second email was from Mick:
Hey Bossman, um, Dayne was complaining that nothing had been done about his ordering issues with us. He filed a complaint six months ago, but we didn’t get it. It must have gotten lost. So when it was resent and finally reached the board and us, he was very put out and demanded we mention his complaint on our site. Instead of just the Lucinda Clearwater issue. Don’t be mad.
Mick
Cole growled and went back to the site to find Dayne’s complaint along with a response alerting and warning people about him. Oh, that was going to go over well.
If they had all been human Dayne could probably sue them, but he was the one who’d insisted they list the complaint. At least Mick wasn’t letting the sorcerer bully him.
Cole checked sales and handled the othe
r complaints that had been forwarded. By the time he’d finished, another hour had passed.
He listened for Jane’s breathing again. Good. Deep sleep. His stomach was growling at him, and being in the same cave as a human wasn’t the wisest move at the moment.
***
Once outside and safe under the cloak of trees and darkness, he stripped his clothes off and buried them in the dirt. He turned his mind to the moon, his focal point for the change. The forest swirled around him in a blur of deep green, as his spirit was ripped away then slammed back into the new wolf form. He shook himself and fought back the sense of vertigo. Unlike most of his kind, he knew he’d never get used to the way shifting felt.
As a wolf, Cole was solid black, something he loved for the way it helped him blend in dark places. He’d planned to go hunting out of town. But first, since Dayne lived in this forest, he might as well sniff around the place and see if he could pick up the scent of anything interesting he could use to his benefit should the board not be satisfied with his word on matters. The smell of roasting werecat perhaps?
He slowed as he neared the cottage. The place was heavily warded. Even he would have thought twice about coming this way if he didn’t know about Dayne, assuming his primal instincts were warning him of a large, impending threat. He pushed past the feeling and crept to the back of the house. He smelled salt and heard a woman crying.
I knew it! Then there was a second female voice.
“Charlee, please calm down. I understand with Anthony,” she said the name with revulsion in her voice, “that you’re on a vampire sleep schedule, but you have to understand I have to open the bookstore in the morning. In six hours.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I just . . . He could do anything to her, and I can’t help. I should have paid more attention to what was going on. I knew Paul was bad news, but I didn’t want to believe he was hurting her. If I’d listened to my gut I could have kept her away from him, and this wouldn’t have happened.”
