by C. T. Adams
If anything, Adam found he respected Cara more for taking her lumps and walking away, than if she’d stayed and caved in against her beliefs.
The safety video flickered on the screen at the front of the plane, but he’d flown so often he didn’t need to look. Besides, he was enjoying remembering.
The time had slipped by so quickly, filled with too many cups—coffee for him and tea for her—and far too many warm, sweet donut holes, which the little smiling woman kept adding to the basket between them. They’d talked of packs and photography, plus movies and favorite meals… in the kitchen and the field.
“Here’s your snack, sir. Would you care for something to drink?”
Adam looked up, startled, as a smiling flight attendant in a trim blue uniform placed a cardboard box on the tray in front of him and looked down, waiting for a response. “We have coffee and tea, or perhaps a soda?”
Another smile turned the corner of his mouth as he looked over the offerings on the narrow silver cart. “I think I’ll have tea. Yeah, hot tea would be great.”
He steeped it until it was about the same color, but it wasn’t the same kind of tea. It didn’t have the same odd, bitter flavor, but it was enough to remind him of the taste of her mouth when he’d kissed her—on impulse but very intentionally.
In the dim, quiet alley behind the shop, he’d pressed her up against her white truck with the gold and black star on the door. Her eyes went wide and a little panicked when he tightened his hands on her waist, right above her utility belt, but she didn’t stop him except to weakly protest with nearly whispered words, “Adam, I—”
That’s all he let her get out before he closed his mouth over hers and inhaled the scent of her. It wasn’t the thick, nearly visible scent that drove him mad like the previous time. She’d used the Wolven cologne that Lucas gave her, but he could still smell the intoxicating scent of woman and wolf, pheromones that smelled soft and nice, and she tasted of sugared tea.
It lasted far longer than he planned, but time seemed to slow down until there was a crystalline sharpness to the moment. Their mouths and tongues had worked in comfortable unison—neither pushing for more than what it was. He memorized her body with his hands, every muscle and curve from shoulders to thighs and allowed her to do the same. But it was their magic that was the truly spectacular part. It swirled over and through them, raising every hair on his body with an electric breeze that took his breath away.
More than anything, it had told him what he needed to know. There was more between them than simple lust, born of instinctive needs neither could control. They related to each other on any number of levels. He liked her. But he also knew that he was the cause of her condition, or at least an accelerant. That was a bit of a worry. By the time he’d finally released her, her breathing heavy and eyes glazed, the scent was starting again. He left before it filled his mind—before his body refused to let him get into his truck.
Still—He took another sip of tea and patted his shirt pocket, feeling the thin cardboard through the fabric. It was definitely worth a few miles over the speed limit and some frantic clock watching.
He had her card, along with her cell number, and he would be back… even if just for one day, and one spectacular night. Oh yah. Definitely a night, followed by a leisurely breakfast in bed. He’d decided there was something here worth coming back for. Now he just had to find out if there was anything left back home that could still change his mind.
“READY TO GO to lunch, Cara?” Yolanda’s voice cut through the fuzz that had been filling her mind all morning. Cara looked down to see she’d drawn another series of doodles on the budget allocation form. ¡Madre de Dios! She could make another copy of the form, but how embarrassing was it going to be to call back Commissioner Hawkins to ask him to repeat everything he’d talked about for thirty minutes this morning? Some days she really wished the office was bugged so she could listen to the tapes. She vaguely remembered something about changing grocery wholesalers for the prisoner’s meals, which was really important, but didn’t know how it came up or the result. No, she’d been too preoccupied. Even now, she could still taste coffee on her tongue at odd times and Adam’s magic had left phantom sensations that tingled her skin.
She blinked a few times, shook her head and smiled at her friend. “Sure.”
It wasn’t until they reached the little Chinese buffet at the edge of town and sat down with their plates and tall glasses of iced sweet tea that Yo said, with seeming casual-ness, “So, you gonna tell me about him, or am I gonna have to beat you bloody?”
Cara froze, the lo mein noodles hanging limply from the chopsticks halfway to her mouth. Then she let out an abrupt roar of laughter that would have turned heads if there had been any people in the room. No wonder Yo had chosen a back table in the overflow dining area!
Her friend grinned at her wickedly as she replied, “That obvious, huh?”
She snorted as she dunked her egg roll into a dish of hot mustard and lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Ay, ay, ay, stupida! I might not have your nose or ears, but I’ve got eyes! You’ve looked like a crushing tweenie for two days now!”
It was a gentle reminder that Yolanda knew about the Sazi, without being too obvious. Even the pack didn’t know she knew, but sometimes Cara needed to talk to someone who wasn’t right in the mess. It was fine to talk to Rosa about most things, but who was there to talk to about Rosa—when she’d been so depressed and angry after Papi left and made Cara’s life a living hell? Or when Rosa refused to discuss problems she might have with Paco or Eddie? No, Yo had always been there to talk about things, little ones and big ones… way back to when she’d helped pick up the pieces of Cara’s sanity after her first change at thirteen. When other girls were getting their first bra or period, she was trying to rule a wolf pack, and failing badly.
Yo had handled it well, taking in the concept of werewolves with a shrug—as though Cara had announced she was adopted. And she was an amazing sounding board, with good judgment… though lately Cara hadn’t been talking about pack things because life had been quiet. But nobody knew the personalities in her pack as well, inside and out, and this might be a prime opportunity to discuss the Minnesota situation. She kept her voice low because the restaurant had started to fill with the regular lunch crowd. ’Truck fodder,” she said, and Yo nodded sagely. It was old code, saying the topic was too hot for public ears and they needed to eat quickly and then drive around town talking in the truck. On bad truck fodder days, Yolanda would drive so Cara could scream or cry without risking their necks. Thankfully, today wasn’t one of those days.
They ate even quicker than normal, anxious to get done and paid. When they were safely in the truck with the air-conditioning blasting on the road out of town, she finally started to talk—about Adam, and the council’s decision and, with some reservation, about the birds. They were all tied together and she couldn’t think of any other way.
Yolanda took a slow, deep breath and then shook her head once. “Wow! That’s… you’ve had an interesting few days, Lottie.” How long had it been since Yo had called her something other than Cara or Sheriff or Chief? That nickname went way back to grade school and was reserved for their closest moments. “So, everything comes down to Adam, and whether you two end up in bed? Doesn’t it all come down to that?”
Cara shook her head after an incredulous look sideways. She flipped on the blinker and slowed the truck before turning on the county road that would meander through thickets of live oaks and fields of wildflowers back toward the other end of town. It was their typical route and would get them back before the end of lunch.
“What? No, How could it? A dozen families, Yo—a dozen—are going to join the pack. Some rogue birds are killing people in my territory. How could everything I just told you possibly come down to whether or not we… well, whether or not I like him?”
Yolanda sighed with a long-suffering how could you figure out this stuff without me tone and ran fingers thr
ough her no-nonsense dark bob. Her natural scent of daisies and mums became laced with hot metal frustration.
“Okay, let’s go through it. A dozen families are joining the pack. Yeah, there are housing issues and integration issues. But like you said about the Target store, that’s easily solved. But if Adam winds up Alpha Male, what will the men think? Will they follow a gringo?” She held up a hand when Cara’s mouth opened in automatic protest. “Ah-ah-ah. Don’t you tell me you hadn’t considered that! You know Paco, and Eddie and Luis. They might spout all the right words, but they’re as racist as any guy in a pointy white hood and you know it. Paco’s your Second and if Adam doesn’t wind up the Alpha, that’ll be where he sits instead. You’re about to cut off your own cuñado’s dick, strip away your brother-in-law’s pride; his identity. Go ahead… lie to me and tell me it’s not why you didn’t tell the pack about the council’s orders the other night.” She snorted and took a sip from the bottle of water they’d picked up at the gas station. “C’mon, let’s hear it. I can’t smell a lie like they can.”
And she couldn’t, because Yo was right. She clutched the steering wheel harder, instead of beating her head against it like she wanted to, and let out a small frustrated scream. “Chingado! What the hell am I gonna do? Adam’s in Minnesota right now, but he’ll be back—along with the others. I’ve got to talk to the pack, make them understand that we have no choice. But how the hell do I do that?”
A small chuckle beside her said she wasn’t looking at everything, yet again. That was one of the best things about Yo. So many things occurred to her, all at once. The whole problem just popped into her head, complete with answers. But Yolanda’s answers were seldom what she wanted to hear. The truth was usually hard and bitter, matching the scent that filled the cab.
“It’s time to face the music, Lottie, and you know it. It’s what you’ve been preparing for since that first hunt with the adults—since the first time you had to defend your right to rule against the men. You are the Alpha, not Paco or Luis, or even Sharon. Yeah, they elected you, as such, but wolf packs aren’t a democracy… no matter how much you want to play that game. You’ve got the brawn and the magic to turn them into quivering puppies. The election was for show. So it doesn’t matter what they want, just like the council doesn’t care what you want—’cause you’re just a puppy to them.”
Another sip of water while she waited for Cara to absorb the words, just like usual. “Your problem is you don’t want to confront anyone, don’t want to make waves. Just like you hold your tongue down at the office, even though you want to—and should—knock heads some days. Just like you didn’t want Rosa, or Adam, to know how much you want to screw his brains out. No waves, no fuss… but no cajoñes, either. For the hundredth time, you really gotta get over that.”
She didn’t comment on that, but Yolanda didn’t expect her to. It had been a long-standing dispute. “So, try to figure out how to tie the birds into that scenario. What do they have to do with Adam, Miss Know-it-all?”
Her friend shrugged, as though it was incredibly obvious, not taking any offense at the sarcastic tone. “Easy-peasy. The birds are the birds. They would have been here in either event. But you didn’t follow them, track ’em down, and make them pay for their crimes… and that bugs the shit out of you. It bothers the cop in you. You stayed with Adam, stood over him… protected him, and then walked past every single iron-clad rule in your world to save his life. Face facts, Lottie. You opened your glands to bring him back—you did what killed your mom, what you swore to me on her grave you’d never allow yourself to do. You’re tied to him and you like it. You think about the birds, and up pops Adam. You talk to Will, and up pops Adam. The investigation is part of the relationship… all tied up in a neat little package with his picture on the paper. You let him kiss you because you wanted him to. How much you want to bet me you’ll tell him about your research before anyone else?”
She’d shut off the truck under a low hanging tree at the entrance to a field of bluebonnets and Indian paintbrush, letting the truth of the words wash over her as she watched the wind make patterns in the blooms. Her words came out as a whisper. “Fuck. I already did, Yo. I didn’t have Lucas’s number, and he was going to see him later today—”
“Pfft! You could have found the old man’s number with one call, and you know it. Give it up, girlfriend. You’re hooked and you’re in deep shit. Just get over it and accept the facts.”
God, maybe she should have let Yo drive after all because she just wanted to turn into a blubbering mass in the corner. A solemn, nearly flat tone invaded her voice, the resignation before the enevitable. “So, what do I do about it?”
She felt her friend’s hand on her arm, and the rush of warm cinnamon and sugar into her nose from the comforting smile. “It isn’t a death sentence, Lottie. I know it’s scary, and way more so in your case. But just admit you liked Adam pushing you against the truck and running his hands over you while he kissed you… in that absolute stillness right before the dawn. No cars, no birds—just the two of you letting loose of your fears.” The words caught Cara by surprise. She hadn’t gone into that much detail. But Yolanda just shrugged and gave a little smile. “Uh, hello? I moved a week ago, remember? Duh! You were necking about ten feet from my bathroom window. Why do you think I asked?”
The laughter that bubbled out of Cara was so sudden that it nearly gave her a headache. Had she subconsciously remembered that when she parked behind the shop? ¡Madre de Dios! How insane was that?
“You were such a puddle after he left—you sat in the truck without starting it for almost twenty minutes with a goofy look on your face—that I nearly came outside to check on you. So I can say with complete authority that you are toast when it comes to that man, and you need to stand up to your pack about him. Yeah, Paco will get a little miffed about it, but he’ll get over it. Adam will have to prove himself, but he’ll get over it. And you need to stand up on your hind legs and be a woman… which is about ten times tougher than being a man.” She raised her brows and crossed her arms over her chest. “So, you asked for my advice, and here it is: You get your ass out there, find those birds like the awesome cop I know you are, and you sit your pack down and lay down the law. Then you call your man and tell him to get his sweet butt back here so you can strip him naked and have your way with him.”
“Yolanda!” If her friend could smell emotions, she would find that humor was right underneath the embarrassment that flushed her face.
A broad smile flashed white teeth that nearly matched the paint job. “Hey, I just calls ’em as I sees ’em.” But then the grin fell away, as though being sucked off, along with all the color in her face. Fear, bordering on ammonia panic, swept away the cookie spices. She was staring over Cara’s shoulder and when her arm pulled away from her chest, the finger she pointed was trembling just a little. “But speaking of seeing ’em, is that one of the badass birds?”
Cara turned in her seat quickly, just in time to spot a massive owl sailing past the driver’s window, probably the one she’d injured as it was missing feathers on its leg. She tried to imagine how Yolanda saw it, since she’d never gotten accustomed to the size like Cara had with Will around. It had a wingspan nearly the length of her extended cab, extended bed truck and was carrying a full grown hog in its talons, already limp and bloody. It was flying parallel to the road they were already on and the tree overhang would hide the truck from the air if she didn’t raise a dust cloud.
“Shit. Grab the binoculars from behind your seat and then buckle up, Yo. We’re gonna go do a little bird-watching?
Chapter 17
OTHER THAN THE extra cars parked in the lot outside the private health club that served as pack headquarters, the scene looked absolutely normal. But David, who had picked him up from the airport, warned him he was going to be shocked.
“So, how many Wolven people have showed up so far?”
His little brother turned the steering wheel and drove down
the line of cars before pulling into a slot. Adam recognized most of the cars—about a dozen pack members were already here. There was a black SUV with Illinois plates and two rental sedans he didn’t know. “Just the original two agents and the council guy who’s running the force now. I don’t know if they’re sending anyone else. Everyone’s being really closemouthed. Mom was here earlier, but she couldn’t handle the scene. Tommy and Jill and a couple others have been cleaning up blood all morning, so it might not be as bad as it was earlier. Remember that steakhouse drive-by a while back? How there was blood and glass everywhere—floor, ceiling, walls… even splattered across the flowers?”
Adam nodded. His brother was on the local force, too. They’d both been working the same shift that night. “Yah. That bad?”
The laugh was brittle enough to make him wince as David turned off the key and unbuckled his belt. “Waay worse. When I left to pick you up, Roberta was on her way to the store to buy about a dozen pails of Kilz—the oil-based kind. The drywall soaked up the blood and it’s going to stink to high heaven even after scrubbing. Personally, I don’t care how much bacteria the stuff kills…. I mean, Tommy said it’s good shit, he swears it worked when the sewer backed up in his laundry room last fall, but I think we’re going to have to tear out a few walls in the reception area. I can’t even imagine how the pack is going to respond next week on the moon. We’re going to have a lot of freaked out wolves, smelling the blood of so many pack mates.”
They were out of the car, walking toward the entrance when Adam stopped. David took a few more steps and then paused as well, waiting.
Maybe it was spotting his brother tense, or the scent of mild fear that drifted to him. But, like a small child who doesn’t want to leave the safety of the covers to close the closet door, he wanted to enjoy the scents of home for just a minute before entering hell. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. It had rained the night before, and the air was cool and wet, filled with ozone and the scent of pink and yellow tulips, which had burst out of the planters around the front door. The smells were so very different than down in Texas, where purple lupines were a unique dark blue and daisies fought for the attention of his nose, and the air felt as though it would burn his lungs with each breath.
