by Moira Rogers
She’d talk to Sam the first chance she had, because Adam was right. Gavin had many strengths, but his judgment tended to be suspect about those he loved. He wanted so badly to believe in the basic goodness of people that he couldn’t acknowledge that sometimes circumstances could align to turn the best of people into monsters.
Cindy was living proof of that.
Chapter Four
Adam spent half the night telling himself it would be okay to return to Cindy’s house and take what they both so clearly wanted, and the rest of the night and a good part of the morning dreaming that he had.
No one came out of the master bedroom as he descended the stairs, and it was just as well. Sam was busy hovering over Gavin, and Adam knew better than to violate the sanctity of the man’s sickroom with Cindy’s scent fresh on his skin. Sam might be fond of him, but not fond enough not to tear a strip off him if he riled Gavin.
Besides, he had somewhere else to be. His hosts just didn’t know it yet.
The sun hung balanced just above the trees as Adam stepped into the street. A light dusting of snow covered the ground and the air held the sharp, almost metallic smell that meant more was on the way. The sun held little warmth, but it was enough that he should have felt its pressure, as a warning if nothing else. The sun rarely bothered him unless he waited dangerously long between feedings, but he was always aware of it, of its subtle weight.
Not today. Cindy’s magic still thrummed in his veins, strong enough to make him reckless.
He couldn’t afford reckless. He followed his faint memory and walked down the hill, following the long road until it merged with the main thoroughfare. Plenty of people were out and about, human and wolf alike, but Adam ignored the curious and occasionally suspicious stares and made his way to the bar that seemed to serve as the town’s focal point.
It didn’t take a werewolf’s nose to follow the fading scent around the back and up an old set of wooden steps. Dylan might be surprised to find a vampire on his stoop, but Adam wagered Sasha wouldn’t be. The girl was too smart and too well read not to have connected the dots by now.
Dylan answered the door on the third knock, and his placid expression made it clear that not only had Sasha connected the dots, she’d shared. “So. I guess you were expecting me.”
“Maybe a little.” Dylan pulled the door wide and gestured. “Sasha’s been going through the books in the makeshift library.”
They found Sasha hunched over an ancient desk, even older books scattered open around her. She looked up and said simply, “It was you. He got the idea from you.”
Two sentences, and the most damning words he’d heard in a decade or more. “That seems to be the case.”
Her clear gaze held only interest and a little fascination. “He’s doing it wrong, then. Doesn’t know how, or maybe on purpose. Whatever the case, these bonds have distinct directionality.”
“Wait, wait.” Dylan pulled out a chair and sat before gesturing for Adam to do the same. “I’m only caught up as far as the fact that the crazy vampire in Helena is doing what he’s doing because Adam did something in Boston a hundred years ago.”
So maybe Sasha hadn’t told Dylan everything. Adam sighed and sank into his chair. “More like eighty, but yes. In the nineteen thirties, I did something reckless and dangerous, and now this vampire’s trying to pull off the same trick.”
“Or not,” Sasha said again, her finger tracking down the text of one yellowed page. “There are inconsistencies. I just don’t know whether they’re purposeful or because he’s flying blind. Maybe you can help me figure that part out.”
“How much do you know?”
“Bits and pieces.” Her voice lowered, took on a sympathetic note. “Rumors, mostly, from accounts written by the Boston alpha. That you fancied yourself strong enough to lead your own pack of wolves, and that you bound them to you by blood.”
There had always been rumors, the more lascivious and deviant the better. “And that I took an alpha female and a witch as my lovers and we performed obscene sexual rituals under the full moon and corrupted a few dozen impressionable young women who worshiped us as gods and indulged our perverted whims.”
Sasha sighed. “You asked what I know. I didn’t say I thought it was the truth.”
Dylan took up the cause with exhausting optimism. “Obviously none of it’s true, but times were different back then and…” He trailed off when Adam quirked an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe some of it’s true. I have no idea what sort of freaky stuff vampires get up to for fun.”
“Vampires get up to all manner of…freaky stuff.” Watching their eyes widen was almost worth dragging it out, but it was a waste of time they didn’t have. “There’s grains of truth in all of it. The witch had the idea first. She had a lover who was a werewolf—a female lover, and the pack wasn’t sympathetic to her. I don’t know how well it’s tolerated now, but it most certainly was not then. And Joan—the alpha female—was strong, but young…an idealist who took her responsibilities seriously. The Boston alpha had grown tired of her insistence on defending the weaker members.”
“So they came to you?” Sasha asked softly.
“They came to me. The witch had an idea, a crazy idea. I thought she was insane at first, because vampires who sustain bonds to werewolves for a long time… You’ve seen it now.”
“And felt it,” she reminded him. “What was different about what you did?”
“What was it you said? About directionality?”
Sasha closed the book in front of her and peered at several of the others. “One account specifically mentioned that your… Well, your pack could draw power from you, and from others through you.”
Cut her loose, Adam—she’s drawing too much power.
She’ll die without it.
The rest of us will die if you don’t.
Adam closed his eyes and ignored the voices. “Astrid—that’s the witch—she used to call me the pack’s reservoir. Power drifted toward me until someone needed it. And if they did…they took it.”
“You pooled everyone’s power, but also allowed everyone access to it.” Even Sasha’s obvious sympathy couldn’t override her curiosity. “What happened?”
It was the last thing he wanted talk about with two wide-eyed kids. “What do the books say happened?”
She closed the book with a thump. “That the Boston alpha drove you out and reclaimed his pack.”
“Pretty much. What happened doesn’t really matter. It didn’t fail because of the magic. I broke the bonds by choice and didn’t try it again.”
Sasha looked at Dylan, her gaze questioning, and he nodded as something unspoken passed between them. Then she leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Can you tell us how you did it?”
“Don’t even think it.” Adam flattened both hands on the table and stared Sasha down. “If you’re asking because you think I should turn myself into some sort of power-mad vampire…”
“I’m asking because it’s what Dylan and I do,” she told him softly. “We collect the lore.”
It took effort to rein himself in. Sasha might be growing into her own, but she was still a girl who didn’t deserve the thrust of his temper. “When this is over, before I leave, I’ll let you ask me any question you like. When this is over.”
She nodded slowly. “At your discretion and convenience. I don’t want to push or pry.”
Dylan reached across the table to cover her hand in a gesture that looked protective and reassuring at once. “We only need to know a few things for now. There has to be a weakness in what he’s doing, other than the fact he’s going crazy.”
“I’ll think about it. Sasha, if you have any books that discuss the origins of the Guide bond, I think that’s what Astrid based the spell on. It’s probably what the vampire is trying to do—combine blood magic and werewolf binding magic.”
“I’ll look it up. Thank you, Adam.”
“You’re welcome. Any more questions?”
“Ju
st one.” She smiled. “Would you like to come to dinner tonight?”
Adam hated that he was almost touched. Sasha and Dylan and their puppy love were saccharine enough to make his teeth hurt, but there was something to be said for their dogged, unflagging friendliness. He even unbent enough to smile. “I made other plans tonight, but maybe another time.”
Dylan studied him for a long moment, and there was nothing saccharine or friendly about it. Undoubtedly, he could smell the lingering traces of Cindy on Adam’s skin. Adam met his gaze and, after another second, Dylan looked away. “We’ve got reading to do tonight anyway, Sasha. Keith wants us all to meet tomorrow morning to discuss some plan he and Joe cooked up.”
“Like you said, then. Another time.”
Sasha’s words were a clear dismissal—a polite one, but clear nonetheless, and permission to flee. Last night his retreat had been honorable, but today it was self-serving. After mouthing the appropriate pleasantries, he left the two to their lovebird cuddling.
The sun hadn’t risen so terribly much during his time inside, but it was strong enough that he saw no reason to dwell in it. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Adam set a brisk pace back to Gavin’s house and tried to pretend he had any thoughts left beyond seeing Cindy that night.
He was too old to lie to himself.
Cindy stepped into the kitchen and dropped her bag at the end of the counter. “He’s doing better than I expected.”
“Thank God.” Sam turned, the dishtowel clenched in her hands the only evidence of her tension. “Tell me he’s going to be okay, Cindy. I need to hear it.”
For now, there was one thing she could give Sam. “He seems to be out of the woods for now, and a lot less stressed out.”
“And he can stay here?”
“Don’t see why not, if he keeps improving.”
“Thank you.” Sam moved to sink onto one of the benches, her towel still clutched in her fingers. “I’m not ready to be in this world without him.”
“Oh, Sam.” Cindy sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I know you love him like crazy. I’ll do everything I can. We both will.”
It was a sign of just how bad things had gotten that Sam leaned into her, letting Cindy support her for a few vulnerable seconds as the tension slowly bled from her body. “He’s worrying about you and Adam. I told him there’s nothing to be worried about, but I know I’m lying, so he does too.”
Cindy sighed, but she might as well get it over with. “Depends on why you’re both concerned, I guess.”
“There’s so much history, Cindy. When a man’s been alive for a hundred years, he collects more than his share of baggage.”
It was exactly what Adam had tried to tell her. What she didn’t want to hear. “I’m not trying to fix him, Sam.”
“That’s not it, sweetheart.” Sam lifted a hand to Cindy’s cheek. “I’m worried he’s going to try to fix you.”
It would have been laughable if it wasn’t so damned sad. “Then you’ll be happy to hear he’s as disinterested in my heart and soul as I am his.”
“That’s what they all want us to think. Helps them preserve their tender masculine egos.”
“Mmm. I told him Gavin was warning him off for his own good, not mine.”
Sam’s hand fell away. “It’s not that simple. You of all people should know it never is. Life is messy.”
A lesson she’d learned early and a little too well. “Do you want me to leave him alone, Sam? Truly? Because I will. It’s not that big a deal.”
“You’re a big girl. The boys are protective asses because it’s in their nature—man and wolf—but you’re a woman who can make her own choices. I’m just asking you to remember that choices are easier when you know all the facts.”
Sooner or later, she’d have to hear the dirty details, the part of Adam’s past that had left those shadows in his eyes. “Even if knowing those facts makes things messier?”
“If you think you’re going to climb in bed with Adam Dubois and make a clean getaway just because you cover your ears and pretend the past doesn’t exist…” Sam shook her head. “You’re fooling yourself, honey. Life doesn’t get less messy just because you swept the dust under the bed.”
Cindy didn’t have the energy to argue. “Let me fool myself, Sam. I can’t afford to get emotional about someone who’s leaving first chance he gets. Maybe I will, anyway, but…if I can just not know…”
Sam rose to her feet and moved to the polished oak cupboards, where she pulled down a cutting board. “I know. And he will leave. Red Rock is the dream Gavin and I built together, but sometimes I think he got the idea from Adam. Adam was the first. But he failed, and this has got to be torment, living in the reminder of that.”
“The first to build a sanctuary? For whom?”
“For wolves.” Onions and potatoes joined the cutting board on the counter. “Eighty years ago.”
But he failed. “He was protecting them from other wolves?”
“The mess out there didn’t come from nowhere. It started a long time ago. Alphas getting crueler and colder bit by bit. Then the Great Depression hit, and everyone was desperate. But back then, in New England, werewolves weren’t the only creatures around.”
She shivered. “Vampires.”
“Wolves and vampires stayed out of each other’s way for the most part, from what I understand.” The rhythmic sound of a knife against wood filled the kitchen, an oddly mundane counterpoint to the discussion at hand. “But if you were a wolf scared for your life, or trapped in a bad situation…well, Adam was unusual. He wanted to help.”
Like he had here in Red Rock over the last few days. “No wonder he and Gavin became friends.”
“They’re not so different when you get down to it. Gavin might realize that, but I don’t think Adam does.”
“No.” The way he spoke of Gavin made that abundantly clear, as if Adam felt a wide chasm existed between the good his friend did and the reality of his own existence. “I’ll talk to him, okay?”
Sam used her knife to push a pile of chopped onion to the side. “It would settle my nerves a little if you did.”
She wasn’t sure what bothered Sam more—that this was Adam they were talking about, or that Cindy herself rarely acted without having all the information she could gather. It must have seemed terribly out of character, even frighteningly so. “What is it you’re afraid of, Sam?”
For several long moments the only noise was the sound of Sam slicing up the other half of the onion, her movements quick and rhythmic. “I’ve always thought people had a right to heal at their own rate,” she said finally. “Werewolves have time. It took me two decades to accept some of the things I did the first year after my change. Others I’m still struggling with.”
A chill swept through Cindy, leaving her cold except for one hard, burning knot in the pit of her stomach. “This has nothing to do with Preston, if that’s what you think.”
“Since we’ve never talked about Preston, I don’t really have anything to think about. It’s yours to share—or not—as you see fit. Thus far you haven’t seen fit, and that’s your business. All I can do is hope it’s not eating you up from the inside.”
She’d never talked about the alpha who’d turned her, then kept her caged for so many months she’d lost count. She couldn’t, for reasons Sam would never understand. Joe suspected and maybe Keith did too, but only because they’d been there. They’d pulled her out of that cage, kicking and screaming.
Kicking and screaming.
Cindy shook herself and turned away from Sam. “We all have things that change us. I’m never going to be the person I was before it happened, but I’d like to think I’ve moved on. Made something of my life.”
“The mistake is thinking one implies the other. I was making something of my life long before I moved on.”
“Then maybe I’ll never really move on.” The second she spoke the words, Cindy didn’t know whether to be horrified or relieved
.
She heard the soft click as Sam set down her knife, then the whisper of footsteps across hardwood floor. The older woman sat next to her, close but not touching, and warm, comforting power curled around Cindy. “You’re young, Cindy. I haven’t pushed because seven years is nothing. Gavin and I had been married a decade before I told him some of the things I’d done. And I think…he’d known them all along. And he’d loved me anyway. I worried for nothing.”
Because Alan Matthews hadn’t broken her. Sam might have, in her weakest moments, almost given up, but she’d never betrayed herself. “I said I’d talk to Adam.”
Maybe getting the truth out there would be a relief for him, and she could give him that. It might derail their headlong rush toward consummating their attraction, but Cindy wouldn’t blame him for that either. Baring your soul was risky, sometimes embarrassing business.
Sometimes it left you with no option but to walk away.
By the time she’d retrieved a pan of lasagna from the deep freezer, tried on three different shirts and laid out a crackling fire in the sitting room hearth, Cindy had to admit it was a date.
She burned her thumb checking the lasagna and cursed roundly. She had a date with a vampire, and nervous didn’t begin to cover it.
“Wine,” she said aloud. Something red to go with the lasagna, obviously, but she had no idea what Adam liked. She’d wait and let him choose.
She’d just finished chopping tomatoes for the salad when a knock on the door startled her. After wiping her hands carefully, Cindy walked down the hall and opened the door.
Adam stood on the other side, in beat-up jeans and flannel shirt. He seemed oblivious to the bite of the air, even though the breeze that lifted his hair was cold enough to send a shiver through her. “Sorry I’m late,” he said by way of greeting. “Keith and Abby stopped by to talk to Sam and Gavin about their plan. They asked me to listen.”
She stepped aside and waved him in. “What did they decide?”
