My Captive Valentine

by Elyce de Reefe

  “The difference is I heal quickly.” He set the mug he’d been holding with the other hand carefully on the counter. “Let me…”

  He held her gaze as he raised his hand and licked two fingers, lifting them to her face.

  “I should have done this last night.” He traced them gently over the lump on her forehead. She had the oddest feeling of familiarity— like a parent cleaning off an errant smudge. Only different.

  His cool, wet touch had an immediate effect, soothing the soreness there, the cold sensation seeming to seep below the skin to the tenderness beneath. She shivered but didn’t pull away. He held her gaze as he dropped his hand.

  She cleared her throat but couldn’t look away. The cool soothing continued, and to her utter amazement, the pain and tenderness began to fade.

  He gave her a soft half-grin, one she hadn’t seen before. “Healing enzymes in our saliva.” The grin widened then. “Anyplace else I can lick for you?” He raised his eyebrows. “Make it better?”

  “No thanks.” She gave him a look and stepped back, breaking their odd little interlude.

  He chuckled and turned to pull out a saucepan, placing it on the stove. “Café au lait. My specialty.” He indicated the chart with his chin. “Do you want to join my team?”

  “Hmm…” she said, giving him a sideways glance as she moved closer to examine the chart. “Who’s on the other teams?”

  He growled and Bridget hid a smile. It was cute actually. And to be honest, it was kind of nice to have someone express his interest so blatantly. Even if he was—okay, not a werewolf, apparently— but like a werewolf, certainly. Something other than human. Still, she couldn’t deny that she found the attention very flattering. Not that she was going to let him know that. And she was oddly touched by the gentle way he’d tended to her bruise. The spot continued to tingle but the pain was noticeably less. Even her headache seemed to be receding.

  She gave him an assessing glance. “You want me to join your team?”

  He looked up from the pot he was stirring. “Yes.” The one word was direct, and she thought— honest.

  “And what do I get?”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to let me go.”

  He shook his head. “No can do. Pick something else.”

  “Okay,” she said slowly. “I want you to show me everything. All about your… people, and how you live. And you have to answer all my questions.”

  “Done.” He grinned at her and handed her a mug of coffee. “Sit.” He nodded to a stool at the kitchen island. “I’ll get the food.”

  Bridget sat and watched him covertly as he gathered plates and began dishing out eggs. With his back to her, she could admire the long, lean length of him. The way his broad shoulders tapered to slim hips and his jeans cupped his truly adorable butt. His dark hair just brushed the collar of his navy-blue Henley, curling slightly at the ends. He turned and smiled at her over his shoulder, and she smiled back involuntarily.

  She ducked her head and took a sip of her coffee. And damn. He was right. He made really good café au lait.

  ***

  Lucas stood in the middle of his room staring out at the ice-choked Rabbit River and the snowy expanse of meadow beyond. Just when things seemed to be settling down for his pack, life slipping into an easy rhythm of training and patrol interspersed with antiquing and those few contracting jobs that came through in the winter, Gage had to go and pull something like this.

  He forced his clenched hands to open and realized that he was standing with his legs braced apart, as if he were expecting some force to come and try to brush him aside. He blew out a breath and tried to calm the agitation inside him. He didn’t like the way his thoughts were churning this morning.

  He’d been shocked to see the damage he’d done to Gage when he burst up the stairs this morning. His little brother had been almost unrecognizable, and he had the sinking conviction that he’d handled things poorly last night. That perhaps he’d let his own emotions get the better of him, rather than doing what was best for the pack.

  Gage had clearly been reckless. There was no doubt about that. But there was no clear evidence that he had flouted the Law, let alone come close to breaking it. But Lucas had been feeling uneasy about Gage for a while now, sensing a troubling shift in his youngest sibling ever since Elizabeth had been taken by those humans.

  It was as if Gage were slipping away a little at a time. But there was nothing Lucas could grasp at, no one thing that he could point at as the cause, or the fix— and it had been eating away at him. The sudden shocking idea that he might be forced to exile his own brother had triggered something. A panicky sensation of failure, of time eroding whatever chance he had to fix things, and in his urgency to do something…

  Well, he’d done something alright. But he was almost certain now it had been the wrong thing. He’d just felt such an overwhelming need for action…

  But that was no excuse. There was no excuse for bad leadership. There was only responsibility. And he was forced to acknowledge that part of it might have to do with the uncontrollable welling of jealousy that rose up when he saw Gage and Mari together, laughing and having fun. Teasing. There was nothing to it. He knew there was nothing to it, and yet, sometimes…

  He sighed and crossed to the desk, placing his hands on the back of the chair and leaning over to get a better look at the sky. But the moon wasn’t visible now. It was obscured. Hidden behind the bulk of the earth, just as the Moon Maiden’s intentions lay shrouded in unformed images in his head. He was supposed to do something. That much he had grasped. And she had burdened him with this task for a reason. He just had no idea what it was. The reason, or the task. But that unsettling feeling of urgency was growing within him. Something was coming. Something big, and he had to prepare. But for what?

  He heard the patter of Mari’s agitated steps coming down the hall and felt his body brace again. A moment later, her small hand rapped sharply on the door.

  “Come,” he said, turning to face her.

  And she did, the sweet scent of summer wafting in to envelop him, right along with the tide of her anger.

  “Lucas, what is going on here?” One tiny foot tapped in frustration. “How can you let Gage do this? Did you see that poor girl? She looks like someone beat her with a bat.”

  Lucas rubbed a hand over his face. “Mari, she was not beaten. You know this, it was a car accident.”

  “Car accident? It’s not like I haven’t heard that one before.”

  “Mari. The People do not beat their… mates. You know this.” He couldn’t quite believe he was equating Bridget with a mate, but this wasn’t about Bridget. This was about Mari. And her fears. Thank the Maiden she hadn’t seen Gage—

  “Their mates? Their mates? Just what is it that lets you guys make all the decisions about who is whose mate? It’s not right, Lucas, and you know it. And now that poor girl is stuck here, whether she wants to stay or not.” Mari’s voice broke on the word stay, and a wash of regret and sadness flooded her scent.

  Merde.

  “Come here, Mari.” He opened his arms. “Chérie. Come.” After an instant’s hesitation, to his immense relief, she came. He enfolded her carefully in his arms and she buried her face in his chest. A moment later she was crying.

  “This is— This is— This isn’t right,” she said between hiccups. “A person should be able to choose their own path. Not have it dictated by someone else. A stranger. It’s just wrong.”

  He rubbed her back gently and inhaled the scent of her soft, silky hair. He knew she must be thinking about her own past, the feelings of helplessness and fear that had ruled her life for a time.

  “No one can choose another’s path. You know that is true. Did you not pack up your small car and come here yourself?”

  “That was an accident. Just luck.” She blinked up at him. “What would have happened if you hadn’t found me?”

  He frowned down at her for a moment and pulled
her in close, pressing her head to his shoulder. “Accidents happen, Mari. Into every life, there come things we cannot control. But we can choose how we deal with them. As you have chosen to remain here with the pack, yes?”

  “For now.” It sounded grudging.

  “For always. You are Pack.” He sighed, feeling her soft, pliant body go stiff in his arms. “And Bridget will choose how to handle this with Gage. If she will have him or no. And she, too, will be Pack.”

  “I never chose to become Pack. And Bridget didn’t either, Lucas. That’s the problem.”

  “You wish to leave?” It was a risk, challenging her outright, but he thought maybe the time had come.

  “That’s not the point!” She pulled out of his arms and glared up at him “The point is Bridget should be able to leave if she wants. And so should I.”

  “The Law demands otherwise, and it is my duty to uphold the Law. Even when I don’t want to. You know this, Mari.”

  “Yeah? Well I’m getting a little sick of the Law. And I’m getting sick of you too, and all your high-handedness. I have a good mind to just— leave.” She crossed her arms over her chest, looking militant, but he’d had about as much as he could take.

  “You would leave us, Mari. Truly?” He stared directly into her eyes. “Leave me?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He leaned forward. “You are mine, Mari. Make no mistake. Everyone knows it.”

  “Really, Lucas? Everyone? How about me? Do I know it?” She turned and stormed through the door, slamming it behind her.

  Merde. He never should have said that. Lucas ground his teeth. He needed patience. He’d know that from the start. There was nothing he could do but wait. Mari would not come easily. She meant to test him— or perhaps that was the Maiden. But he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. He sighed.

  Mari would need to be one hundred percent sure of him before she could submit. And that little declaration wasn’t going to help things. He sighed again. Maiden willing, he would survive the wait. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the continuous irritation of seeing her interact with the unmated males.

  Gage in particular enjoyed flaunting his easy rapport with her. Rationally, he was glad of their closeness, and that she was becoming more comfortable with the pack. But that instinctive need to claim her, to keep all others from her, was a force that couldn’t be ignored or denied. Only repressed—incompletely—for a time.

  Chapter 7

  As near as Bridget could tell, the women started arriving just before lunch. Apparently, Elizabeth arrived first. Bridget came downstairs to find her and Mari putting together a tray of sandwiches. Bridget sat at the kitchen island watching them move to and fro in perfect harmony, feeling slightly overwhelmed. She’d offered to help, of course, but Elizabeth took one look at her face—which was really looking much better after Gage’s little stunt with the saliva—and told her to sit down.

  She’d tried to rest earlier up in ‘her’ room when Gage had gone out to the garage for the morning training session, but it hadn’t worked. Her mind was spinning—going over all the possibilities— how was it these beings could exist, right under their noses, and no one ever found out? That gave her a little shiver—because really—with a secret this big, she imagined some blood had been shed over the years. Probably quite a lot.

  No, wait. It couldn’t have been that much, or people would have noticed. People go missing every year… But even if a significant fraction of them were caused by the “People,” that still wasn’t massive quantities of humans being killed by werewolves. Or non-werewolves as Lucas insisted. Not that that’s a big comfort to those who do get killed.

  These were the thoughts rolling through her head when she ventured downstairs in search of some distraction. It was a relief to find such a normal tableau. Mari and Elizabeth didn’t seem the type to hang around with murderers. Not that that they would have a choice. But more than that, they seemed comfortable in their surroundings. They weren’t nervous or jumpy, and they didn’t act like they were worried about anything. So that had to mean something. Right?

  Lyla arrived next, accompanied by a large man who looked an awful lot like Boaz. But then he would, since they were brothers. He was carrying a large quilted bag over one shoulder, the pink and purple calico looking incongruous with his otherwise very masculine image. He had a smaller canvas tote in one hand, and the other was wrapped solicitously around the elbow of his very pregnant wife. Um… mate, probably. She graciously condescended to let him aid her as she sailed through the room straight toward Bridget, looking as though she didn’t need any help at all.

  Lyla was tall and stately, although not as tall as Bridget, with pale blond hair and classic features. She was wearing a wine-colored velvet tunic over her huge pregnant belly, with grey leggings and stylish but sensible black fleecy snow boots that laced up the middle.

  “Hi, I’m Lyla,” she announced. She smiled up at the man beside her. “And this is my husband, Aaron. You must be Bridget.” She took Bridget’s hand in both of hers, which were long and elegant, and sure enough, sporting a wedding ring. Fascinating. So he is her husband.

  “Yes, hi. It’s nice to meet you,” Bridget mumbled, feeling unaccountably awkward.

  “Don’t let Gage fool you,” Lyla continued. “There’s more going on in there than meets the eye.”

  Bridget smiled involuntarily, suddenly feeling more at home. “Yes. I noticed that too.” She felt her smile widen. “He hides it well though.”

  “That he does.” Lyla glanced at her husband, inviting him to speak.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said promptly to Bridget.

  “Nice to meet you,” she responded automatically, and was plunged right back into awkwardville. This huge man was actually a werewolf.

  Um… not a werewolf? But a creature that can change into a wolf whenever he wants. And I’m here making polite conversation. She noticed he didn’t try to shake her hand. Of course, Lyla had yet to release her, but still—

  Then she did release Bridget, turning to embrace Elizabeth and Mari as they came over. There were greetings all around, but Aaron hovered close to Lyla.

  “I brought the journals.” Lyla indicated the two totes Aaron was still holding. “Just in case you wanted to look through for clues on the Prophecy while we’re all together.” She shrugged. “You never know.”

  Elizabeth nodded slowly. “It’s a thought.”

  “Really?” Mari regarded Bridget thoughtfully. “You think?”

  “No idea,” Lyla said. “We should take notes on all of the entries that deal with the Prophecy anyway, though, so worth checking.”

  Mari rubbed her hands together. “Great idea. We’re going to need margaritas for this.”

  Lyla and Elizabeth laughed.

  “Definitely,” Elizabeth said. “But maybe we better wait until five o’clock for that. Otherwise I don’t think we’ll get through everything.” She turned her gaze to Bridget. “We need to make sure we get Bridget settled. The poor woman doesn’t even have a change of clothes.”

  “Right,” Lyla agreed. “So. Where do you want them?” She glanced down at the bags.

  “Oh, Aaron, would you bring those up to Gage’s room? Your old room, I should say.” Elizabeth gave him a brief smile and turned back to Bridget. “It’s like musical chairs around here with the bedrooms.”

  Bridget was left wondering just exactly she meant by that.

  Elizabeth turned back to Aaron. “And then you make yourself scarce. This is girls only.” He gave her a wry smile and then turned a more genuine one on his wife. He opened his mouth, but Elizabeth forestalled him.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure she doesn’t lift anything heavier than a teacup.”

  Aaron grinned, transforming his face from good-natured handsome to flat-out gorgeous. “You heard her,” he said to Lyla, who grimaced slightly, and then he turned and headed up the stairs.

  There was a l
ittle grumbling when Aaron reappeared, but he allowed himself to be ushered down the stairs to the basement, where apparently there was a well-appointed man-cave. Gage appeared a moment later from those same stairs. He resolutely refused to leave, settling onto one of the comfortable-looking leather couches, before picking up the remote and flipping through the channels.

  Elizabeth gave him a look. “Really, Gage?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll just wait here until you ladies go upstairs.”

  “Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “We’re done here anyway.” She turned to pick up a tray of sandwiches, but a loud bang from the mudroom stopped her in mid-motion.

  “Sorry!” A female voice called. “The wind.” A moment later a woman appeared in the hall, flushed from the cold and moving fast. Straight toward Bridget.

  “Hi, I’m Aster.” She cast Gage a look that Bridget couldn’t interpret and seized Bridget’s hands in both of hers. “I’m Gage’s sister.” She gave Gage another look, raising her eyebrows significantly. “His older sister.” She leaned forward and added in a mock whisper. “He’s the baby.”

  Gage made a scoffing noise but didn’t comment.

  “It’s so nice to meet you,” Bridget managed once the other woman stopped talking. His sister. How interesting. She had the same French accent as both her brothers, but it gave her an air of elegant sophistication.

  Aster regarded her for one silent moment, taking her in from head to foot without releasing her hands. She had that same intensity as Lucas, and Bridget had to fight the urge to lean back as Aster scrutinized her. Bridget scrutinized her right back, tying not to be obvious.

  She was pretty. Very pretty. Her features were more delicate than those of her brothers, and her hair had just a bit more red to it.

  Aster nodded to herself, a small smile touching her lips. She turned to Gage and although the angle was wrong for Bridget to actually see, she had the strong impression Aster winked at him.