by Diana Seere
He welcomed it.
Sophia’s front door swung open before he could get to it and knock, the wide, muscular form of Derry coming out into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a polite finality Zach was about to reverse.
“Zach! How are you?” Derry asked smoothly, one arm around his shoulders, turning him away from Sophia’s door. “How can I help you?”
“You can get out of my way.”
Derry’s thick, dark eyebrows rose in amusement. “We both know I can’t do that.”
“You can do anything you want, Derry. Whether you will get out of my way is another story.”
“What’s in the bag?” Derry asked, deflecting.
Zach hated having to look up to meet Derry’s eyes, a fireball of anger suddenly rotating into a tornado of heat that pumped through him.
“Kryptonite.”
Thick palms rose up, facing Zach, the gesture strangely submissive. Zach had seen—and used—that gesture many times before, but as his shifter mind took over more and more, he viewed it differently. Submission in the animal world was part of pack behavior.
If Derry was being conciliatory to his human side, that was one thing.
Having him defer to Zach on a pack level was quite another.
“You know I can’t let you go in there, Zach. Sophia doesn’t want to see you.”
“I’ll believe it when I hear her say that to me directly.” Zach shook his bag. “And this is melting, so let me in. Why let perfectly good ice cream go to waste?” He forced his voice to a lighthearted tone.
“Ice cream isn’t going to magically solve all the problems between you,” Derry said in a low voice.
“Problems? The only problem Sophia and I have is her meddlesome brothers interfering with us.”
Derry snorted, the sound half human, half bear. “That’s what you think.”
Zach moved around the man, which was no small feat, given he was the size of a small mountain. Derry was big but swifter than Zach realized, blocking the door handily.
“I mean it, Derry. Move or I’ll move you.”
Derry gave him the kind of grin Zach had rarely seen, a combination of sheer physical grit with a wry humor. “While I would love the challenge and am happy to oblige in a fair fight at the Novo Club, under protection, I’ll have to decline for now.”
Before Zach could reply, the door opened slowly, Jess Murphy’s eyeball making an appearance in the one-inch crack.
“Zach!” she said in the worst feign of surprise ever. “What a surprise!”
Even Derry rolled his eyes.
As Zach started to form words to respond, a series of images blew through his mind, the flurry of activity almost painful.
Babies.
Nothing but babies.
Babies with blond hair, dark hair, topaz eyes and—
Glancing at Derry, who had turned to murmur furiously with Jess, Zach saw Sophia in her brother’s profile. Clenching his fists, he shut his eyes as if that would stop the barrage of baby images. His nose twitched, nostrils flaring, and he smelled baby.
Just… baby. The scent of a freshly bathed baby wrapped in a blanket, resting in his arms. The way a baby’s scalp smelled like love multiplied by infinity. How love had a scent. The brush of Sophia’s fingers against his as she huddled with him, cooing over their child.
What the hell was happening to him?
The sudden gong of the Beat hit him, hard, then quieted, like a Doppler effect.
And he knew.
Pushing past Derry, who put up no resistance, he knew before he entered the apartment that she was gone. Her living room was beautifully decorated, the high ceilings lined with stamped tin, meticulously restored. The apartment was light and airy, decorated like a beach house, full of shades of ocean and sand.
“SOPHIA!” Zach shouted, rushing past a guilty-looking Jess, running down a small hallway, knowing without seeing that Sophia had escaped out a back entrance and was gone.
The squeal of tires outside made him look through a window. The black SUV pulled off into the distance. The suited bodyguard was gone from the entrance.
Derry had done his job.
Too well.
“It’s better this way, old chap,” Derry said in a hearty voice.
“Better for whom? Your puppet master, Asher?” Zach was three seconds away from punching the guy, his shift simmering under the surface, anger fueling it. All he wanted was to talk to Sophia. To see her. To spend time breathing the same air in the same room.
And her twin brother was helping her to escape?
Escape from Zach, as if he were some crazy stalker.
Jess seemed to waver slightly. “She needs more time, Zach,” Jess said softly. “Sophia isn’t ready to see you.”
“When she tells me that herself, I’ll believe it.” His breath came quickly, in short, ugly fits, the anger harder to control. Damn it! They were treating him like he was the unreasonable one. “You’re all in some crazy, enmeshed loop of people doing Asher’s bidding. For God’s sake, I’m not a danger to Sophia!”
“Whoever said you were?” Jess asked, concerned.
“Asher!”
“Well, he’s an asshole,” Jess said calmly, her eye contact strong, mouth neutral. “Don’t listen to him.”
A long, resigned sigh poured out of Derry. “Asher has a point.”
Jess looked like he had slapped her.
“What?”
“Asher is worried that Tomas is having Zach followed.” Derry’s brow lowered, eyes going dark as he said the words to Jess. “In fact, if Tomas knows you’re here and Zach is here…”
“I won’t let you do this. I’m not the reason anyone is in danger!” Zach shot back. “Tomas Nagy is!”
“And he wants you.” Derry’s voice was deep and serious, smart blue eyes narrowing as he stretched out the pause, conveying meaning Zach could only barely discern. “He wants what he considers to be his.”
“Me? How am I ‘his’?”
“Tomas played a major role in the development of the serum. He’s also a megalomaniacal man who will stop at nothing to gain power, and if he already thinks he is entitled to you—because the serum made you into a shifter—then he’ll come for what is his. Just like you are doing.”
“Just like I’m doing what?”
“Claiming. Tomas wants to claim you—and that puts anyone around you at risk.”
Zach heard the words, felt the gravity of Asher Stanton’s orders, could even palpably feel Derry’s insistence that Sophia didn’t want to see him, compounded with the Tomas issue.
And yet it didn’t fly.
Not one bit.
“You’re lying,” he said, confident and sure. Without breaking eye contact with Derry, he pointed to Jess. “She is a horrible liar, but you’re nearly as bad.”
Derry’s eyelids flickered wider, then came back to baseline. “Nothing I am saying is a lie. Sophia left because she does not want to see you now. Tomas is following you. You are putting people in danger. None of that is a lie.”
“It’s not what you’re saying that is a lie.” Zach inhaled sharply, the scent of baby consuming him, making him do a quick headshake. He swallowed, an audible click coming from his dry throat, his skin prickling with sweat as his arms swelled, shoulders tight with tension. “It’s what you’re omitting.” He realized he was still holding the ice cream and walked into the open kitchen, shoving the bag into the freezer.
“Omitting?” Jess squeaked, Derry taking one possessive step closer to her.
“You’re hiding something. You’re not telling the truth.” Closing his eyes, he tightened his body, feeling a bit foolish. He controlled his breath, taking a long inhale until white dots floated in and out of his vision behind his eyelids, wondering if, if, if—
“No,” he said finally, letting out his breath in a long ribbon of frustration.
“No, what?” Derry asked.
“My shifter powers don’t include mind reading,” he said
matter-of-factly.
Derry began to laugh, a booming sound of joviality tinged with cynicism. “All this,” he said, gesturing up and down Zach’s body, “and mind reading would be a grossly unfair distribution of resources.”
“Says the billionaire.”
“Look, Zach. Let Sophia come to you.” Derry’s face turned just enough again to make Zach ache inside, her twin channeling Sophia’s features.
“She doesn’t have a choice,” Zach said.
“When she’s ready, she will. If she ever is. You know,” the big man said quietly, “you really don’t have a claim on her.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sophia told me you don’t hear the Beat. While it’s certainly not a requirement and is quite rare, it’s one way to be certain you’re fated to mate with someone for life. It’s how you know someone is your One.”
“Wait a minute,” Jess interjected. “It’s not the only way.”
Derry glared at her and whispered, “You’re not helping.”
“I know about this Beat thing,” Zach said intensely, itching to leave, to run after Sophia, to find her, to hold her. “But even without it, there’s no reason Sophia and I can’t be together.”
“No, that is true,” Derry said cautiously. “But if you did feel the Beat, it would be definitive. Unstoppable. Concrete.”
“Love can’t be real without this Beat?” Zach gave Derry a withering look. “I call bullshit.”
“Call it what you will, Zach, but it’s simple: if you feel the Beat, she’s your One. Period. You’ll never, ever be with another woman again.”
“It’s like baby fever!” Jess piped up. “You don’t have a choice!”
Derry looked aghast, paling, eyes wide and only on Jess. “Shhhhhhhh!”
Her face reddened as she looked at Zach. He could feel her emotions boiling over like fudge on a hot stove that sugars by accident. “Er, um…”
A blur of muscle and black hair swept past Zach, and in seconds, Jess was in Derry’s arms.
“Are you telling me something, my love?” he murmured against her cheek. “Is it time to make babies? I’m a bit out of practice, but—”
She whacked his chest. “We just had sex this morning!”
“Like I said, it’s been a while. Too long. Let’s go practice.” Without another word, he turned and carried Jess into the bedroom, kicking the door closed.
Leaving Zach furious.
And knowing they were hiding a secret.
Chapter 18
The next morning, Sophia awoke in the Presidential Suite at a downtown hotel, promptly threw up in a heated Japanese toilet—she did not appreciate the bidet function when her face was inside it, but the warm seat was nice—and returned to bed. The days were getting shorter as they approached the winter solstice, but the morning sun peeking through the thick curtains was bright and cheerful.
To hell with that. She curled into a ball and waited for the nausea to subside. If she hadn’t been approaching hibernation season, she would’ve guessed long ago she was pregnant. But in years past, long nights of hot sex combined with huge meals had always made her sleepy and queasy, and she hadn’t had a baby inside her then.
But she did now. In spite of her upset stomach, she smiled. She hadn’t been prepared to see Zach last night and had been quick to flee out the back door to the service elevator. She’d heard him—she’d felt him—arguing with Derry. She’d understood his frustration, his loneliness, his anger, because she shared it, but she wouldn’t give him what he wanted until he’d proven he deserved it. Until he’d proved he deserved her and this huge, overpowering love that had taken over her mind and soul.
The baby. Her first priority now would be to their child. The old Sophia would roll her eyes, but she didn’t care. Instinct had taken over. She would kill anyone who tried to harm this tiny, helpless, dependent thing inside her. Wolves and tigers loved their children, she allowed, but a mother bear was something else. A mother bear’s willingness to kill and die for her cub was unparalleled in the universe. And that included everyone—friend, family, lover, even herself.
She would die if that was needed.
Her thoughts turned to Tomas Nagy. That man, that monster, was a threat to her child. Obviously, after the attack on her brothers and friends, she had already been concerned about the danger he presented. But now she could think of nothing else.
Well, in the split seconds she wasn’t longing for Zach.
Last night he had come to claim her. She’d felt his need, his desire, his determination. Good. But it wasn’t enough. This baby needed a father who was bonded to her the way she needed him to be—through the Beat, as a shifter in tune with the ancient ways, not as a part-human male driven by a purely sexual urge to possess and dominate.
The Beat would bond him to her but also to their baby. She wouldn’t trust him if he couldn’t hear it. No—she couldn’t trust him if he didn’t admit it. There had been moments in Montana when she had been certain he heard and felt what she did—yet he’d denied it. He’d lied. He was too afraid of the commitment it would entail.
How could he be her partner in protecting their son?
She gasped and sat up in bed, bringing her hand to her belly. It was a son. Her baby was a boy. Their baby. A son. She could see him running, a little boy with dark brown curls and laughing brown eyes, his clothing torn from his first shift.
With tears streaming down her face, she hurried to the bathroom to prepare for the day, the weeks, the years ahead. Everything she’d ever thought was important—gorgeous movie stars in her bed, designer clothes, gorgeous football players in her bed, exotic travel, gorgeous construction workers in her bed, priceless jewels, gorgeous research biologists in her—
No, now it was time to cast that all aside and put the baby first, in her mind and in her actions.
It was past time somebody dealt with Tomas Nagy once and for all. She would find Asher and insist he tell her what he’d planned. And if he didn’t give her satisfying answers, she’d find someone who would. As much as she’d like to kick Tomas’ ass herself—she was more than strong enough, and a hell of a lot smarter—she would have to take only a management role in the operation because of the life quickening inside her.
Only then would she allow herself to think of Zach and what it had meant for him to come see her last night. Only then would she allow herself to hope.
Asher Stanton was right about one thing.
And only one.
Giving in to emotion would be a terrible waste.
Zach had spent hours last night combing the streets of Boston and Cambridge after leaving Sophia’s apartment, walking off his anger, half searching for her, his shifter radar attuned to her heartbeat. Finding no hint, he’d turned toward home, mind racing, body needing her more than ever.
And then there were the babies.
Images wouldn’t stop flooding his mind, the intensity increasing. Jess had implied that she and Derry had that insane baby fever Sophia had blathered about at the Montana ranch, but it felt… off.
Jess had been lying, and Derry had covered it up by grabbing her for a lovemaking session designed to throw Zach off the scent of the lie. How admirable. The guy was willing to sacrifice himself. Derry was a sexual martyr.
But what was the lie about?
As daylight broke, Zach found himself standing in front of the LupiNex headquarters, the same brown stone fountain he’d stood before a few days ago now a silent object. No water misted or burbled against the polished granite. Silent and steadfast, it was just a monument, no longer in action.
Why was he here? Sitting down on the fountain’s edge, he watched the stream of workers heading into the building, the early birds catching the corporate worm. Like them, he’d once framed his entire life around his work.
Unlike them, his work had reframed who he was.
To the bone.
The idea hit him as he scrubbed his face, feeling the telltale stubble from a night spent wandering
the streets.
Sam.
Sam could help.
Jumping up, he raced across the stone ground before the entrance, sweeping past the security guards and over to the stairs, his strong legs taking the steps in pairs until he found himself on the top LupiNex floor.
Sam’s office.
She was there, at 6:49 a.m., as he knew she would be, her red hair pulled back in the familiar ponytail, a travel mug the size of a small cat sitting on a stack of papers next to her. As he knocked softly on her office door she was startled, nearly upending her coffee, the scene almost comic.
“Zach! I’ve been so worried.”
“Worried? About me?”
“You didn’t answer my calls. My messages.”
“I’ve been sick.”
Concern in her eyes turned to mild panic. “How sick?”
He waved the worry away, not wanting to even try to explain the problem with Sophia. “Just a cold. Nothing major.”
“Even a cold can be cause for concern.” Her frown deepened. “We would like to run blood work on you. We are still in the early stages of understanding all your powers. Plus,” she added, rifling through paperwork, finding a book inside a thick leather pouch, “we really do need your translation services.”
“Translation?”
She stood, motioning toward a small couch and chair, holding her coffee in one hand, the leather pouch in another, something pinned beneath her free fingers.
“Let’s sit here.”
They both took seats, Zach curious, staying quiet.
“Zach,” Sam said, sitting on the couch across from him. “Here’s a recorder.” She handed him a small, slim, silver device and the ancient text. Most of the lettering on the front of the book had worn away, the leather imprinting so faded it had pushed the letters out to nothing. “All we need is for you to read the words so we can transcribe them. If you can’t read something, just say so openly, and we’ll go back and have our linguists see if they can decipher from context.”
“Decipher?” Zach was deeply perplexed, looking at the old book she handed him. “Why would you need to decipher it?”
“Because we need to translate,” she said slowly, as if Zach didn’t understand.
