Hungry Like a Wolf

by Jessica Lynch

  Since she wasn’t sure that Adam would be coming back, she didn’t need to have him coded in. Dropping the wards for a few minutes would be enough.

  “Sorry about that. Give me a second, okay?”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  Now where did she put that stupid thing?

  The last time she had lowered the wards was last week when she let the pizza delivery guy up—

  Ah ha!

  Evangeline hustled into the kitchen and pulled open her menu drawer. The small timer was tucked toward the front.

  Gotcha.

  The witch who set up the wards tried explaining the magic inherent to the spell to Evangeline. She said it was easy if you only knew how to tap into it; magic was a raw force with so much potential that you could make it do whatever you wanted to. All Evangeline had wanted was a strong set of wards to put her mother’s mind at ease. But since she also didn’t plan on giving away any of the precious shreds of freedom she’d managed to claw back, the witch gave her the timer. A flick of the wrist and the wards were down for as long as it took the sand to fall.

  Evangeline turned the timer over and placed it on the mantle before heading back over to her intercom. “Okay,” she said. “You have about ten minutes before the wards go up again.”

  Despite her apartment being on the sixth floor, Adam was knocking at her door in less than five. She fluffed her hair, checked to make sure that her sweater covered up the majority of her cleavage, and took a deep, calming breath. Then, with a smile as shaky as she suddenly felt, she opened the door.

  And there he was.

  “Come on in.”

  Adam took two steps into her apartment and froze. He stared at her long enough to make Evangeline feel even more uncomfortable—did she suddenly sprout a massive pimple in the middle of her forehead or something?—before he gave his head a clearing shake and grinned.

  “Wow,” he said, visibly stunned. “You look beautiful, Eva. Just like always.”

  Really? Because this whole thing had seemed wrong the more she thought about it, Evangeline had barely tried. A touch of mascara and some pink lip gloss, that was all. And her sweater looked like something she might have worn back in high school. At least she filled it out better now—a fact that Adam seemed to appreciate as his warm brown eyes lingered on her chest.

  She was glad she went looking for her flats, though. At only an inch shy of six feet, there weren’t many men she met tall enough that could wear her heels around them without dwarfing them. Adam wasn’t a small man by any means, but this was a flats-type of night out.

  He looked good. Really good. Better than she expected, and more than she had hoped for. Evangeline figured his work as a police officer helped him with his muscular physique, and he wore his wavy blonde hair cut shorter than he used to when they were kids. When he smiled at her, she saw the dimple in his right cheek. That sure had been a panty-dropper for him growing up. She almost felt insulted that he dared use it on her the minute she let him into her apartment.

  Lucky for him, he held a small box in his hands. A present. That fiendishly charming dimple was forgiven at once.

  Adam must have caught the acquisitive glitter in her eyes because he chuckled. He jerked his chin at the box. “As you can see, I brought you a gift.”

  “You didn’t have to,” Evangeline told him. That didn’t stop her from reaching for it with greedy hands.

  “My mother taught me never to come calling on a lady without something to offer. I could’ve brought you flowers, but that seemed too easy. You deserved something special.” His boyish grin sharpened, his dimple deepened, and Evangeline could feel her cheeks turning pink at the way he continued to stare. “Besides, I used to go to your birthday parties, Eva. You always got a kick out of a good present. Maybe, if you like mine, you won’t make me wait ten more years for another date.”

  She had wondered if Adam would mention the few times they went out when they were in high school together. Choosing to ignore his comment—and just what he was implying—she busied herself with opening the small box. And, hey, if Adam wanted to call it a date, that was his business. As far as she was concerned, this was dinner. That was all.

  That didn’t mean she was going to turn his present away. Growing up an admittedly spoiled only child, Evangeline knew a bribe when she saw one. As she lifted the lid and peeked inside, she hoped it was a good one.

  Nestled inside on a bed of cotton was a small violet bottle with a stylized glass rose as a stopper. Liquid sloshed back and forth as she gave it a little shake. In tiny, pale purple print, it said: eau de parfum sorcière.

  “Perfume?”

  “Yeah. The girl I bought it from guaranteed it.”

  Evangeline removed the stopper and sniffed. It was a soft perfume, some blend of vanilla, lilacs, and baby powder that seemed to calm her. It was exactly the sort of perfume she’d choose if she ever bothered to wear any.

  “It’s lovely, Adam. Thank you.”

  She was putting the stopper back in the bottle when he said, “Why don’t you try it on?”

  “What? Right now?”

  He nodded. “Why not?”

  Once again, Evangeline had a vaguely unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach, as if there was some reason why she shouldn’t. Shoving it aside, she shrugged her shoulders and dabbed some of the perfume onto her wrists.

  “You know where else you should put some? Let me show you.”

  Then, before she could say no, Adam gently lifted the bottle out of her hand and, using his pointer finger as a stopper, sprinkled some of the perfume onto his skin. He stepped around her, scooping up her hair with one strong hand, settling it neatly over her shoulder. Once her neck was bare, Adam ran his finger along the back of it.

  His touch was more like a caress, his voice gone impossibly deeper as he asked, “How’s that feel?”

  Evangeline stiffened, and not entirely because of his unsolicited touch. With Adam pressed up against her back, she felt enveloped by his scent. And it wasn’t like he smelled bad. He didn’t. He smelled like freshly clean male, a combination of his shampoo, his soap, and his strong cologne. But that was just it—it was too much, almost like he was trying to cover something up. Breathing him in, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was so, so wrong. She’d always liked a man who wore his musk proudly.

  He had never—

  The sharp, stabbing pain attacked her mid-thought. It was a pulsing migraine on steroids, ripping Evangeline from the present and throwing her into a silent, black void where the only things that existed were Evangeline and her agony.

  It never lasted long—a few seconds at most—but it felt like an eternity before she recovered enough to open her eyes again.

  Adam had moved. He was in front of her now, his hands reaching out to her, his concerned face only inches away from her. His eyes were wide and worried; the brown almost looked hazel this close, the golden flecks a small reminder of the man who haunted her dreams.

  Gold. His eyes were the most beautiful golden color. He—

  The room started to spin. The pain reverberated against her skull, pulsing, pounding, aching. She was more prepared this time. Clenching her jaw, pushing through the worst of the pain, she waited until the sensation had passed again.

  She didn’t know how long he’d been calling her name. She figured that was the buzzing in the back of her head that abruptly stopped as soon as Adam saw that she was conscious and coherent.

  He let out a sigh of relief, the rush of his breath tickling her nose. “You’re okay. Tell me you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine,” she lied. If she hadn’t been fine in years, he didn’t need to know that. Besides, she could fake it. How else had she been able to convince her parents to let her live on her own? “I— wait. Am I on the floor? How did I get on the floor?”

  “You started to drop,” Adam told her, his voice wavering slightly. Her little spell had rattled him. “I didn’t want you to get hurt so I brought us both to t
he floor.”

  It took her a second to focus beyond his worried gaze. Adam was kneeling in front of her and, yup, they were both on the ground. The perfume bottle—with its stopper back in place—lay on its side by his right boot. The lilac and vanilla blend seemed stronger now that it was on her skin, with Adam’s scent lingering all around her.

  Evangeline had the sudden urge to get far, far away from him. She started to sit up so that she could climb back to her feet. That was when she realized he was still holding onto her by her shoulders. As if he’d been touching her all of this time.

  Okay. That was too close. She started to shake—even though she couldn’t say why she did—and Adam’s frightened expression came rushing back. He got to his feet, gently easing Evangeline up until she was standing again. He didn’t let her get away, though. Tucking her into his side, he began to guide her further into her apartment.

  “Come on, Eva, let’s get you down on the couch before you start to faint again.”

  “I didn’t faint,” she protested weakly. Might have been more convincing if she didn’t sound like she was about to pass out. “I’m alright. Please let go.”

  “When you’re sitting, I will.”

  “I’m fine, Adam.”

  “It’s okay. Listen, your mom said something about how you used to get headaches. I’m not gonna push when you obviously don’t feel well. We’ll go out another time.”

  Adam managed to get her halfway across her living room before his words sank in. She shook his hands off of her, panic flaring up as the rest of the pain fled in its wake. “No, no. Not a headache, just a twinge. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  They had to go out now, no matter how she felt. She’d never hear the end of it from her mother otherwise. And considering she’d told her parents, her therapist, and her doctors that the night terrors had stopped and she hadn’t had a headache in months, she couldn’t explain why she canceled. She could only hope that Adam forgot all about it by the time dinner was done. If he snitched… well, she knew her mother had her room waiting for her. If Naomi ever discovered the extent of her fudging the truth, she’d be moving back home before she had time to blink.

  That settled it. She was going out with him if it killed her.

  “Hey,” she added, skirting around him when he tried to reach for her again. The adrenaline shook off the last of the pain, making her alert and determined. “I’m dressed, it took me half an hour to find my shoes earlier, and now you’ve got me wearing fancy perfume. You promised me dinner, Adam. I won’t let you take it back now.”

  Evangeline held her breath as she waited for his answer. His brow was furrowed in a concern she wished he didn’t feel, but a few seconds later his lips quirked up into an amused grin. “I did promise, didn’t I?”

  It took everything she had not to let her breath out in a rush of relief. “You did.”

  “And you’re sure you’re feeling up to it?”

  Evangeline could barely remember what had brought the headache on so suddenly in the first place. Of course, that was the problem. They said the strange holes in her memory would close up in time. Eventually she would learn her triggers and be able to avoid them.

  She was sick and tired of waiting.

  She was sick and tired of feeling all alone.

  Adam Wright wasn’t the man in her dream. Still, he would do.

  “Are you trying to get out of dinner?” she dared him.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Eva.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  And when Adam dared to place his hand on Evangeline’s shoulder again to help her into the hallway, she let it stay there.

  Even if she really, really wanted to shove it off.

  5

  It took more than a month before Maddox was finally released from the Cage.

  As his brother so eloquently put it during one of their now weekly meetings: voluntary incarceration, my hairy ass. If it wasn’t for Colton’s testimony that he was the one who scented Evangeline first, then actually saw her with his own two eyes, Maddox doubted they would have even had a hearing.

  Even more notably, Colt managed to rein in his wolf throughout the hours-long process, biting back his snarls as he told his story over and over again to the board. They brought in a witch to test him, to see if Colt was telling the truth. Colt passed with flying colors.

  Bureaucracy was bitch, though. So what if Colt’s testimony proved that there was no reason why Maddox deserved to be locked up? It took weeks to cut through the red tape before Bennett finally got the okay to remove the silver collar from around Maddox’s throat. Once the veteran guard escorted him back to the outside, Maddox had only one goal in mind.

  Find his mate.

  It broke his fucking heart that doing so wasn’t going to be as easy as it should’ve been. Ever since he found out that she was still alive—that, for the first time in years, there was hope—Maddox expected some part of his bond to come back.

  It, uh, it hadn’t.

  After the accident, their mate bond had been razor-sharp, both jagged and raw from where he believed her death had severed it. And while he refused to let any of the prison’s witches try to take it from him, he had buried it deep down inside of him as he suffered all alone in the Cage.

  The remnants of their bond were all he had left of Evangeline—of his Angie—and he treasured it. No doubt about that. But it was too painful to experience around the clock, and he tucked it deep where he could hide it and kept it close without being reminded that it was abruptly broken when she died.

  Only she wasn’t dead. And now that he needed it? It was impossible to recall it. It was almost as if it was gone. It wasn’t, he could still sense it tucked away, but there was no way he could use their missing bond to lead him to where his defiantly not dead mate was living without him.

  When Maddox admitted that to Colt during one of their last visits before the board hearing, his brother told him not to worry. That, as soon as Maddox saw Evangeline again, the bond would return. It had to. Maddox and Evangeline were fated mates who developed a bond over a year’s courtship. They might not have been formally bonded, and he’d forever regret not claiming her for his wolf when he had the chance, but the bond was there.

  Don’t worry?

  Ha.

  Maddox didn’t just worry about their muffled bond—he obsessed over it. It was the only lead he would have when he got out and Colt knew it. That’s why his brother tried to track her down before Maddox’s release. The way Colt figured it, if he dragged Evangeline to the magic-free prison, even the stubborn board couldn’t deny Maddox his freedom.

  One problem, though. And it was a biggie.

  Evangeline was gone.

  Colt had gone back twice to the place where he spotted Evangeline and found no sign of her. Her earlier trail was too muddied to follow and Colt couldn’t find a hint of her soft vanilla scent anywhere nearby. It was as if she had disappeared in the time since he first scented her. Colt might not have been all that attuned to Evangeline’s scent—she wasn’t his mate, after all—but he remembered it vividly from the times when she was his brother’s mate. Colt’s wolf had some of the strongest senses of the pack. If he couldn’t track her, that was a big fucking problem.

  Not only that, but Colt had to resort to using human tech to search for her. No luck there, either. Her phone number had long been disconnected. The house she grew up in? It had been bought by a newlywed couple more than two years ago. When he asked, they couldn’t offer any information on the Lewises except for a forwarding address that was another dead end when Colt chased it down.

  Evangeline Lewis hadn’t just disappeared after the car crash that supposedly killed her; it was like she didn’t exist at all. True, Colt hadn’t found an obituary for her anywhere online, but Maddox’s mate didn't have any social media presence. No facebook, no twitter, nothing. If she was hiding, she was doing a damn good job at it.

  But why was she hiding?

  It was o
bvious that Colton had his suspicions. He refused to acknowledge them, though, and would change the subject whenever Maddox brought it up. Considering how Maddox nearly bit his head off when Colt told him she was missing, he didn’t blame his brother for evading the topic.

  After a couple of tense visits, Maddox stopped talking about it, focusing all of his energy instead on getting out. All he was doing was torturing himself while he was still trapped in the Cage and, eventually, it didn’t matter. Both of the Wolfe brothers knew that, despite whatever had happened to sever it in the first place, as soon as the mate bond snapped back into place, Evangeline would never want to leave Maddox’s side again.

  Of course, that meant nothing until he managed to find her again.

  So, fresh out of the Cage and without his mating instincts or a fully formed bond to guide him to her, Maddox had to do something no self-respecting bonded shifter ever wanted to do: he had to ask for outside help in finding his mate.

  There was only one place that would be authorized to help him.

  He groaned just thinking about it.

  If you thought the D.M.V. was bad, you’d obviously never been to the D.P.R. Short for the Department of Paranormal Registration, the D.P.R. was a government-run agency that kept track of all blood bonds, matings, and claimings, issued and regulated Paranormal I.D.s, officially changed a ghost’s birth certificate into a death certificate… basically, if, as a Para, there was something that you had to take care of, the D.P.R. was where you went to do it.

  You just better make sure you have all day to spend there.

  Once he walked inside the sterile building with its plastic chairs and warded glass enclosure, all Maddox wanted to do was grab one of the D.P.R. workers and have them use their fancy computers to give him Evangeline’s address. He knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as that, but he hadn’t been prepared for all of the administrative bullshit.

  It was almost enough to make him homesick for his cell.

  First, while attempting to sign in with the receptionist, Maddox discovered that he no longer had a valid P.I.D. Before he could even ask about Evangeline, he was sent to Window C with a stack of paperwork about two inches thick. He struggled to answer the increasingly ridiculous and invasive questions—how the hell was he supposed to know how old his grandfather had been during his first shift?—and finally just started to jot down the first thing that popped in his head, accurate or not.