Nightshift Bundle with Wolf Tales & Embrace The Night

by Kate Douglas

  A gentle hand settled on her shoulder, jerking her out of her misery. “It’s not your fault. She won’t even remember she said any of that to you when she’s done Changing.”

  Peyton. Chloe’s muscles squealed in protest when she whipped around to look at the wolf behind her. She gritted her teeth to stop a groan of pain and offered him a cool stare. “So, you’re not dead.”

  “Not this time, no.” He gestured to a chair against the wall. “Do you mind if I sit?”

  She shrugged. “If you aren’t dead, then why aren’t you in jail?”

  Pulling the chair to her side, he eased into it and sighed. “Because, despite all appearances, I’m not a criminal.” He angled a glance at her. “I am—I was—undercover.”

  “You were a double agent.” Blatant disbelief colored her voice, but she couldn’t help it. “So, torturing me was just part of your cover? Because I have to tell you, you suck at your job if you’re supposed to protect innocent people.”

  A dimple tucked into his cheek, but that was as close as he came to an actual grin. “I had to prove myself to Smith. They don’t just let you in to terrorist groups if you know the secret handshake.”

  “Uh huh.” She crossed her arms over her chest, then dropped them when the motion pulled at injured tissue. “If that was an attempt at an apology, you suck at those, too.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. For the record, that wasn’t an apology,” he retorted drily. “I had a choice that night. I could either give them you, or I could give them Ivan Nemov’s son. I thought you’d prefer the call I made.” He arched an eyebrow, but she remained stubbornly silent. “If you don’t believe me, and you still think I should be locked up, maybe you should check your precognition and see if it’s telling you to run from the big, bad wolf.”

  She glared at him, but couldn’t deny that the voices in her head were silent. No warnings of danger whispered around her. “Fine. It doesn’t mean I trust you as far as I can throw you, but you’re not completely evil.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” If possible, his tone went even drier. “My superiors will be so pleased by your professional assessment of my character.”

  “You know I’m not that kind of doctor. Even if I were, you’d be beyond my help.” She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm, but his words caught her anyway. “Your superiors—Luca—knew you were a double agent, right? Did he tell you which of us—”

  “No. I mean, yes, of course he knew. It was his idea for me to infiltrate Smith’s organization. But, no, I made the decision to sacrifice you instead of Alex.” He tugged at the leg of his pants, twitching out a nonexistent wrinkle. “Which I’m sure Kingston will want to discuss with me when he gets back.”

  “He knows I would want Alex spared, if a choice had to be made.”

  “It did.” Peyton shrugged fatalistically. “Whether he wants to acknowledge that or not is the real question.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I kind of hope he punches you in the face really hard.” She gave the wolf a saccharine smile, then decided to change the subject, just to throw him off. He might be able to answer one of her many questions for her. “What happened to the wolves Smith had locked up?”

  “The same thing that’s going to happen to your friend.” He angled his chin toward Tess. “I’ve spoken to the local pack, explained what happened, and vouched for all of the new wolves. They’ll be trained as Magickals and given a place in the pack, if they want to join.” He hooked an ankle over his opposite knee. “The All-Magickal Council is paying for the training, and for all their medical bills. Your aunt had a hand in that.”

  “Of course, she did.” Chloe smiled. Millie would have been all over this, just as Chloe had told Smith. Millie had her fingers in every political pie, and anything that involved her niece’s case would have garnered special attention. Chloe couldn’t wait to see her again. She’d missed the old witch.

  Peyton shifted in his seat. “I volunteered to train Dr. Jones myself. She worked as a pathologist for the Normal side of the FBI, so our people are eager to get their hands on her. She’ll be useful to us once she’s wolf-trained.”

  “What does Luca think about that?”

  His face went carefully blank. If he’d been difficult to read before, now he was impossible. “Cavalli is a vampire. Dr. Jones is a werewolf. Or she will be when she pulls through this.”

  That he stated it as a fact made Chloe thaw toward him just a little. He had no doubt that Tess would make the Change to wolf successfully. But he was right about Luca and Tess’s relationship. Vampires didn’t mix their blood with anyone else’s, especially not their animalistic cousins. Before, Luca might have been allowed to turn her into a vampire, but now . . . Whatever possibility there had been for the two lovers was over.

  Chloe ached for all the blows her friend had received, and for all those that were still coming. She hoped Peyton was right and Tess wouldn’t remember what she’d said, that she’d let Chloe help her. Selfishly, she hoped she didn’t lose her best friend.

  She turned on Peyton. “You’d better do a good job training her. She’d better be welcomed into the wolf packs with open arms.”

  “I will. She will.” Peyton rested his hand on his thigh, his manner and tone as unruffled as ever. “You have my word on that.”

  Her mouth worked for a moment as she examined his face. She wished she could tell if he was lying, but the man made his living going undercover and convincing evil people he was evil, too. The clear memory of bronze blistering her skin the two other times she’d met him made her voice rough. “Your word doesn’t mean much to me, Peyton. You hurt her in any way, decide to torture her to save someone else or to save your own ass, and I will hound you to the ends of the earth. I will take you apart piece by piece, slowly, and nail your wolfie hide to the wall. Is that in any way unclear to you?”

  The corners of his lips twitched as if he was fighting a smile, but it never formed. “We’re clear.”

  “Good.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “I’m not kidding either. I don’t care if you’re a law enforcement officer or if it’s illegal to threaten you. I will do what I’m telling you.”

  “I believe you. Ma’am.” He tipped his chin in a respectful nod.

  She sniffed. “Well, at least you’re not an idiot.”

  The twitch was a bit more pronounced this time, and his midnight blue eyes glittered. “Kingston’s going to have his hands full with you.”

  The words were like a punch to the heart. Merek. Gods, she missed him; she wanted him here. Her chin lifted. “Whether he does or not is none of your business.”

  Peyton nodded. “Then I’ll only say that I’m glad Dr. Jones has friends in the Magickal community as fiercely protective as you to look out for her. Whether you believe it yet or not, I’ll look out for her, too. I would never hurt her.”

  “We’ll see.” She settled deeper into her wheelchair and watched Tess in the awful throes of Change.

  “Yes, we will.”

  Merek lay on his belly in the middle of the forest, gazing down the sights of a high-powered rifle loaded with pure silver rounds. He ignored the discomfort of the cold mud seeping into his clothes and sliding over his skin to form a sticky crust. None of that mattered. Not the chill, the pouring rain, the filth. With the exception of Gregor, who’d managed to disappear as he always did, they’d hunted the fleeing members of the terrorist cell for more than a week, picking them off one by one until only Smith remained, cornered in a shack in the middle of the wilderness. They had him surrounded, and he’d have scented them all by now, would know he was fucked.

  It would be finished soon.

  A dozen possible ways it could go down flipped through Merek’s mind, too much in flux for him to know which would be the true outcome, but all of them ended in the terrorist’s capture or death, and that was all Merek cared about.

  That he could see the future of this made relief coil in his gut. Whatever might happen, he knew this no longer tangled with Chloe or Alex’s
lives. And they had lives to look forward to. No thanks to him.

  He clenched his jaw, let the self-disgust sluice off his back like so much rainwater. They were free of him now, so it didn’t matter if his heart still stopped every time he even thought about how he’d arrived too late to do a damn thing for them besides get them to a hospital before they bled out. It didn’t matter if he wanted to vomit when he recalled them covered in gore. It didn’t matter if he had to concentrate even now to make his hands stop shaking at the thought of how close they’d come to dying. Minutes had counted. Seconds had counted.

  The report from Peyton of what had happened had been grim, but Merek had read every word so many times he’d memorized it. The handful of times he’d called to check on Alex, neither of them had mentioned that he’d watched his father get gunned down before his eyes. The boy had been through enough without that, but he would come through it just fine. Chloe would make sure of it.

  Gods, Chloe. Merek didn’t even let himself consider how she was doing. He shut his mind to all thought of her. The pain was too crippling to deal with. Nothing would ever make it right again.

  Movement in his sights snapped his focus back to the task at hand. Smith erupted from the shack, a howling monster with bloodied fangs. A flurry of staccato conversation in his earpiece let Merek know they had men down inside the house, and none of the other agents outside could get a clear shot. He could. His body hummed with tension, and he drew in a calming breath of clean, evergreen-scented air. Then he let half of it out, his hands going rock steady.

  For Alex, for Chloe, for himself, for all the rage, the pain, the anguish this man had caused so many other people, he squeezed the trigger.

  The rifle recoiled against his shoulder, and almost simultaneously, a bloom of crimson spurted from Smith’s torso. The wolf jerked, his look of mild surprise clear through the powerful scope. Then he collapsed, folding in on himself in the rain-washed mud, a hand pressed to the wound in his chest.

  Right through the heart.

  “Good. I’ll see you when you get back to Seattle.”

  “Right.” Merek pinched the bridge of his nose, hunched over on the rickety desk chair in his motel room. He’d called Alex the moment he’d returned, hadn’t even bothered to wash the grime off first. The kid would want to know it was over.

  A short pause fuzzed through the line. “Chloe’s about to walk in; I can smell her. You want to talk to her?”

  “No. No, you can tell her.” Need exploded through him, so fierce it scared the shit out of him. “I have to go.”

  He slammed the receiver down before he gave in to temptation. Burying his face in his hands, he sucked in a breath. It was better this way. Better for her, better for him. He’d promised the kid he wouldn’t bail on him, but they wouldn’t be living together, and the distance would keep Merek sane.

  But Chloe. He couldn’t see her and not want her, want her and not touch her, touch her and not claim her as his. Always. Forever. His.

  To do so would trap them in the same nightmare. He couldn’t do that to either of them.

  Gods, he missed her though. Even with the grueling hours Luca had had the entire team putting in, Merek couldn’t stop missing Chloe. The few moments he had alone, his body burned for her; he woke up hard for her. The craving never ended.

  He shoved to his feet, stripped on the way to the bathroom, and stepped into the tub. A shower and eight full hours of sleep before he headed back to the city would help him come to grips with the fact that he’d never have her again, that life as he knew it was over. No more Seattle PD. No more people sharing his living space. No more family. No more Chloe.

  Chloe. Wide hazel eyes, a brilliant mind, a sharp tongue, a soft body. He missed her. Everything about her. How he’d survive without her, he didn’t know, but he knew he’d never forgive himself if she died on his watch. So he had to let her go, for both of their sakes. It was over, and if he didn’t like it, if he kept waking up wanting her, it was just the price he had to pay.

  He leaned his forehead against the shower wall and closed his eyes as the water ran down his body, rinsing away the shampoo. Even with his decision clear in his mind, he couldn’t stop the vivid memories of the last time he’d shared a shower with Chloe, the feel of her slick sheath tight around his cock. Her face flashed through his thoughts, her eyes alight with passion as she moaned his name.

  His cock went rigid in moments, his breath hissing between clenched teeth. Gods, he needed her. He couldn’t have her, not ever again. The knowledge made his gut churn, his self-loathing warring with his desire.

  Grabbing for the bar of soap, he washed himself efficiently, but nothing would put a damper on his lust. Unquenchable fire burned in his veins, made his heart pound. He’d gone too long without. Not just sex, but her. He wanted her. In his bed, in his arms, in his life. He just couldn’t have those things, whether he craved them or not.

  Cursing, he slid his soapy hand down his stomach until he grasped his dick. He bit off a groan. Even though he knew it was foolish, he let her image form in his mind.

  Every aspect of her was seared into his memory, and he was grateful for that. Her scent teased the edges of his consciousness, and he didn’t even have to try to recall the flavor of her on his tongue. The Chloe in his thoughts smiled at him, pulled him to her for a hungry kiss. He couldn’t hold back the groan this time as her slim fingers dropped to rub his cock.

  He sucked in a breath, the hot water moving down his back like the stroke of her hand. A shudder passed through him, and his hips bucked, driving his dick into the ring of his fingers. He rolled his thumb over the head, squeezing and pulling at the shaft in rough motions that drove him right to the edge.

  Days without her touch had done this to him, made him so desperate and needy he couldn’t see straight. He held tight to the fantasy, where Chloe caressed him, whispered in his ear, bit the lobe and flicked her tongue over the captured flesh. Goose bumps rose on his skin, rippling down his limbs with the shower water. He tried to drag enough oxygen in to satisfy his starved lungs, to cool the fire in his blood, but there was no stopping now.

  Pumping his cock hard, he let go of control. He always lost it with Chloe. A smile curved his lips, pleasure streaking through him, so hot and sweet it almost dropped him. He rotated his grip, ran his fingers along the underside of his dick, and imagined the wet warmth was her mouth moving on him, sucking him deep.

  “Gods,” he groaned.

  The dream dragged him under, and he felt the hot spill of his come over his fingers. The orgasm just kept going as he pictured her lips and tongue on his cock, her eyes gleaming with wicked glee because she knew at that moment she owned him, could make him beg, and she liked the power. Final spurts made his cock jerk, and he shuddered, wanting to hold on to the ecstasy as long as possible.

  “Merek.” Her voice was so real, so precious, that he had to close his eyes. She wasn’t there when he opened them. He knew she wouldn’t be, but for a moment he’d wished with every scrap of his battered soul that she would be.

  He choked, sagging against the wet tiles. How was he going to survive without her? It was acid corroding his veins knowing she’d never be his again. The people he wanted with him the most would never be with him again. Hell, even the damn cat would never pester him again. He’d never been so alone. Until he met them, it had never mattered to him.

  So, he forced himself to remember soaring through the night air with Luca, circling to land on the top of a building where both Alex and Chloe were ripped to pieces by werewolf teeth and claws. He made himself recall the raw sound of Luca’s sobs as he realized the woman he loved was lost to him forever. Merek knew that pain. With Laura, his parents, his childhood friend. Even then, it didn’t stop him from wanting to drive straight to Seattle and get his people.

  One thought came through crystal clear: he couldn’t do it. Not to them, not to himself.

  How many times did he have to fail them to learn that lesson? Over and over
again, he’d failed them, failed himself, failed his own expectations. Some tiny part of him had begun to believe it could be different this time, to need that close human contact again. Some idiotic portion of his soul had reawakened at having people he couldn’t read. People who mattered. Not because of work, or any other proximity he had no say in, but just because. Because he wanted them, because he craved the contact, because he needed them.

  And they’d damn near died because of it. Again.

  If Chloe had been with another Magickal, someone who could read her future enough to know when danger was coming for her, all of this might have been prevented. He couldn’t quite smother the knife of jealousy, of possessiveness, that sliced through his gut. They were his. No one else would protect them as vigilantly as he did. He checked the thought. He hadn’t done a very good job of protecting them, had he? Which was how he’d ended up in his current position.

  Regret and pain and a longing so deep it made his hands tremble twisted inside him. He missed Chloe. He missed Alex. He missed being around them, talking to them, laughing with them. Everything felt empty, hollowed out with hurt.

  He’d thought he’d feel less like a complete failure after they were safely away from Smith, after Smith was dead and could never harm them or anyone else again, but nothing had changed. It wasn’t about Smith, was it? It wasn’t even about this situation. It was about Merek, about how he couldn’t handle the fact that his clairvoyance shut down with the people he loved. And he loved them. Gods, how he loved them. And they loved him back. He knew it as surely as he knew the sun would rise in the morning. Chloe had even said it.

  The warmth that flooded his chest at the thought was so good it was almost painful. He could have them, if only he had the courage to reach out and take what they offered him. Love. A family. People to come home to, and not just an empty existence that consisted of his job and his bitterness.