No matter what choices he made, those choices hurt people. Had he not punished himself, there would be no justice for the many he’d wronged, for their families. Yet there he was, kicking himself for his uselessness. That was the word he’d been looking for. Useless. How could he do anyone, especially Mary, any good the way he was?
“There,” Alex said.
Raphael looked up, storing his dark thoughts and focusing. There Jeremiah was, right in front of them. He held a glass filled with an amber liquid; a giggling woman sucked a curling stream of champagne from the air beside him, delighted with Jeremiah’s trick. Another clung to his right arm, running a hand through his curly hair. Raphael’s claws sharpened. Any respect he had for that man, one who’d overseen their clan for longer than Raphael had been in it, was gone, along with his respect for their punitive system.
“He deserves punishment.”
“I agree, but, dude, we cannot do anything now. It would be suicidal,” Alex said insistently.
Raphael blinked. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. Reluctantly, he acquiesced. They dragged themselves from the terrible scene, both men shaking with anger. Someone had to stop Jeremiah and the botos. The alternative was unthinkable.
“We need to meet with Heath, Cael and Sebastian,” Raphael said. “All of us need to lay out everything we know, everything we can do, so we can find a way to stop this.”
Alex was already dialing his phone. “Done.”
* * * *
Wish is not a moron. In terms of Molly, he was as clueless as any new parent, but regarding everything else Mary, Leila, and Aiyanna had spoken to him about, he was a wealth of knowledge. A professor of Southern literature at Tulane, he knew all about both mortal and immortal beings—and whether they existed or not.
Apparently the sack man was just a sadistic human who’d been dead for over a century.
Mary and Leila grilled the poor haint for over an hour, with Aiyanna chiming in occasionally. Mary learned banshees were all women, and although fairly powerful, Leila and Mary were mortal, unlike werewolves and shapeshifters.
“The closer you are to someone or some family, the harder it will be for you to sense any upcoming deaths,” Wish had said.
Leila had paled at the news, wiping away any ideas Mary held about her sister predicting their parents’ murder.
She was determined to turn over a new leaf in her life. There would be no more humiliation, no more feeling unsafe, and especially no more deaths in their little family. Mary wanted to have fun again. She wanted to paint, to feel beautiful simply for the sake of feeling good about herself.
The only wrenches in her plan were the delinquent werewolves she now lived with. Or so she thought, until Aiyanna added her two cents. Wish had explained how werewolves only turn into their wolf forms on nights of the full moon, which was in less than a week. Unmated weres, meaning every man aside from Wish who lived in the old firehouse, would be completely uncontrollable on those nights,
“They only know two things,” Wish said, “mating and killing.”
At Mary’s alarmed gasp, Aiyanna quickly chimed in, shooting Wish an annoyed look. “These men contain themselves with chains enchanted to subdue werewolves with full powers.”
Powers these men didn’t have. So long as Leila and she stayed away from where they were chained, they would be safe.
The thought of crazed wolves still made Mary’s knees weaken. If it weren’t for Aiyanna and Wish’s earnest reassurances about the men, coupled with their lacking abilities most werewolves had, Mary might have run from the firehouse, dragging Leila along with her.
Something wonderful—fragile, but worth cultivating—was forming between her and Raphael, but giant, relentlessly angry wolves were up there with large cats in her book.
She learned the loss of their powers was another punishment for their crimes. No one could tell Mary what the weres, namely Raphael, had done to deserve this.
“They’re all good men,” Aiyanna had assured her. “Whatever they’ve done, they’ve been punished enough for it. I promise you, there is no safer place than here.”
Then why don’t you live here? Leila had signed, earning a growl from the shapeshifter.
“Cael won’t let me,” she said.
“If I’d seen or heard evidence that they were dangerous, Molly would not be here,” Wish said. More than anything, that appeased Mary’s worries. Wish wouldn’t risk any harm coming to his daughter.
It was a relief; it felt like a luxury to have certainty about Leila and her safety.
Even before hearing Wish and Aiyanna’s defense for the werewolves, Mary hadn’t doubted Raphael. She’d feared the other four, especially the one she had yet to meet, Sebastian. She couldn’t, wouldn’t be convinced Raphael had a cruel bone in his body. Even now, as she absently folded the clothes Leila haphazardly threw into his dresser, she wished Raphael were there. He not only made her feel secure, but as if she mattered. Not to mention how his touch melted her, left all her hard-earned reservations about men forgotten.
With him, she might be able to let all of it go.
Loud, angry footsteps sounded in the hall seconds before the man she’d been fantasizing about slammed into his bedroom. She jumped, turning to face him. What happened? Gone was the man who’d held her so tenderly earlier that afternoon. His long hair was free of its ponytail and tendons revealed themselves in his neck. His eyes were a dark navy blue, not their usual dark brown. Raphael was furious, and Mary had no idea why.
“Are you okay?” she asked, reaching for him.
He flinched away. “You have no reason to speak to me.” Raphael’s bared teeth were sharper than usual. “I can’t bring any good to your life. Trust me, you’ll be glad when you no longer have to see me.”
Hurt, anger and worry replaced all the hope she’d had mere minutes ago. “You’re kicking Leila and me out?”
“Of course not,” he snapped, surprising her.
“Then what do you mean by me no longer having to see you? Are you going to be freed soon?” That had to be it. How else would he be allowed to leave? She should be happy for him. She wasn’t.
“Something like that.” His back was to her as he stuffed weapons into a duffel bag with a few pieces of clothing. She gaped at the covered knives, different sets of brass knuckles and single gun. Apparently finished packing, he hoisted the bag over one shoulder.
“Please,” she implored, grabbing his shoulder. “What happened?” Even if he was being released, something had made him this way. He’d helped her so much; she wanted to do the same for him.
Raphael dropped the bag, swung around and pinned her to the wall, caging her with his body. She met his eyes defiantly. She’d seen the kindness he was capable of; he didn’t scare her. When she didn’t cow, he cursed darkly, slamming his hands into the wall beside her head. She refused to flinch. From the thud and wood chips sprinkling the floor, he must have hit—and annihilated—a stud.
“I am no good,” he growled, his breath tickling her ear.
“Why do you reek of smoke?” she asked. Had he burned something? Was he hurt?
“I burned down a house,” he said.
Great, I can begin his list of crimes with arson.
“Why?” she asked. “I don’t think you, the philanthropic man who’s housing two women in need, would go burn down a house for shits and gigs.” She pushed at his chest. “No, I know you didn’t.”
“You know nothing!” he roared. He slammed another fist into the stud, causing wood to rain again. Each of his fingers was tipped with a razor-sharp claw. “You almost got yourself killed yesterday, and today you’ve rashly decided to try your hand with criminal werewolves. You’re either stupid or suicidal. You don’t know us; you have no reason to trust us with your life, or the life of your sister.”
She shoved him away, surprisingly easily, as Cael and Aiyanna burst into the room. “What the hell are you doing, Raphael?” Cael snarled.
“Sweet cheeks, it’
s obvious he’s being a royal dickwad,” Aiyanna said in a saccharine-sweet tone. Cael rolled his eyes.
Mary felt lost, and for the first time in her life, completely alone. Her sister was keeping God-knows-what from her, her parents were still dead, and the man who’d given her hope, who she’d thought found her worthy, was throwing her away as if she were trash.
Maybe she hadn’t been prudent. Maybe she’d made rash decisions by working for Richard and trusting the werewolves. I’m doing the best I can, but I’m not stupid or suicidal.
With that in mind, she shoved out of Raphael’s room, angrily flinging the tears from her eyes. Unfortunately, she couldn’t as easily fling away the hollowness in her chest. I can’t have one day. Not one single decent day. What had she done to deserve this? She didn’t just ask for trouble, as Raphael thought.
For years she’d tried her hardest for Leila. She’d failed on all counts, miserably. Hell, because of her, Leila would probably lose her scholarship. No wonder Leila felt she couldn’t confide in her.
Thankfully, no one followed as she found the huge, circular hole in the floor. She grabbed the pole, ignoring the burning in her hands as she slid to the first story. She was out the door in seconds with one thought clinging to her: I have no one.
Chapter 6
“Raphael, you stupid man,” Aiyanna said, her voice low, dangerous. “What did she do to deserve that? What could she have possibly done to you, huh?”
Nothing. He shouldn’t have yelled at Mary, and she had done nothing to merit him, someone she’d trusted, scaring her. And what did he do? Pushed her into a wall and yelled at her, calling her the most hurtful names he could think of. But moving in with his pack was reckless.
Trusting Raphael was downright dangerous.
He didn’t deserve to be trusted. He hadn’t earned that sweet smile she’d given him when he first came into the room. As if she’d been happy to see him, may have been waiting for him.
In that moment she’d been everything he wanted, everything that had never been within his reach.
Of course, he’d immediately ruined it all. That was what he did—he was physically incapable of making someone happy. It’s better this way. Now I won’t hurt her later. His words guaranteed her distance from him. Better for her. Then why did it feel utterly wrong? He wanted to follow her, to beg for her forgiveness. Every instinct he possessed wanted to rebuke each word he’d said. He wanted to apologize for all the tears he’d caused. Seeing her that way made him feel like the worst of creatures.
He didn’t want to leave her, but he had no choice in that. After seeing Jeremiah with the botos, he had no doubt that the man would soon execute him. And Heath. For that reason alone, it would be kinder to keep distance between Mary and him.
Every cell in his body disagreed. He was restless with the need to follow her. Had she left the firehouse?
Could she be his mate? It would explain the wrenching pain her sadness brought him, his absolute need to console her. No. A mate was never in the cards for him, but he could love her. Of that he was certain.
“I made a terrible mistake,” Raphael admitted.
“That’s a step in the right direction,” Aiyanna said wryly. Cael nodded his agreement.
“I’m going to find her,” he said, determined. She was the personification of kindness and selflessness. She may forgive him. If not, he wouldn’t blame her. Either way, he would make her as happy as he could for the days he had left. Never again would he treat her like this.
At the front door, she’d taken a left, her lilac scent lingering where she turned toward the French Quarter. Guilt stabbed Raphael. It was after dark in the Warehouse District. While it wasn’t the worst area of New Orleans, it was by no means safe for anyone on foot who was unarmed and untrained in self-defense. If he hadn’t hurt her, she would be secured, perhaps in his arms, at this very moment.
Raphael growled, quickening his pace to a sprint. Her scent suddenly became stronger. He stopped by a coffee shop so small he wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t been looking for Mary. Inside, it was dimly-lit by patrons’ laptop screens and a few light bulbs on their last breaths of life. Mary sat alone on a worn couch, a chocolate concoction topped with towering whipped cream in one hand. The other held a tissue, wet from her tears.
When Mary saw him enter, she stood to leave. “I’ve come to apologize.” Raphael held up his hands. “Please, allow me to.”
Mary wiped her eyes one last time and set her drink down. “I’m not crying because of you, you know,” she said with a sniff. “Everything just…hit me, I think.”
He hoped it had. She’d adjusted to the knowledge of strange, new creatures so well he’d assumed she went into shock.
Raphael nodded solemnly, easing onto the cushion beside her. He looked into her eyes, now bright with sadness. “In ten days or less, I’m being set free.” It wasn’t a complete lie. “You will never see me again. Something angered me earlier, fueling what I said to you, but I truly thought it would be kindest if I made sure we were sufficiently separated while I’m still here.”
Mary tried to speak, but Raphael held up a hand. “It was a mistake. I still have duties before I leave, but when I’m not occupied by them, I’d like to be with you.” Mary inhaled sharply. Raphael pressed on. “You see the world for its beauty, and that’s something I’ve never been able to do. If for the coming days you share your beauty with me, I swear I will rip my own heart out before I betray your trust again.”
As he fell silent, Mary said nothing. She wrapped two thin arms around herself as she thought, frowning slightly. How Raphael wished he knew what she was thinking. Light hit the planes of her face, highlighting the circles under her eyes. The first step toward making her happy is helping her get some sleep.
Mary glared at him. “You think I’m either stupid or suicidal one moment, and the next you decide I’m some wonderful optimist. I don’t understand.”
“What I said was wrong,” Raphael stated simply. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, scared you.”
Mary laughed and picked up her drink. “You think you scared me?”
Raphael nodded. How could he not have? He’d gotten in her face, yelled, and torn apart the wall behind her.
She shook her head. “You may not be able to control your words, but you control your body very well. I knew you wouldn’t touch me.”
Raphael smiled. No one ever had such faith in him. Even when he’d been unkind to her, she still believed in him. “May I touch you now?”
“No.” She clutched her drink like a weapon.
“Do you like chocolate?” Raphael asked.
Mary stared at him. “I’m female. Yes, I like chocolate,” she said dryly.
“Is there coffee in that?”
She looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Yes.”
Raphael plucked the cup from her hand and threw it into the trash, her softly uttered curse following him. At the counter, he said, “I want two hot chocolates, one with extra whipped cream.” He tipped the heavily tattooed man who took his order and resumed his seat.
Mary scowled at him. “Why did you do that? I liked what I had before.”
“You need to rest, and hot chocolate has less caffeine.”
She exhaled for a long moment, her lips forming the most perfect O he’d ever seen. “I hate that you’re right,” she grumbled. “Thank you.” She clasped and then unclasped her hands.
“Do you know a lullaby that goes like this?” She hummed the first notes of what he sang to her when she was hurt. He finished the song, singing the Estonian words. She allowed him a small, wary smile. “You sang to me,” she murmured. “Do you know it brought me out of a nightmare? I was reliving the night my parents were murdered.”
That’s why she cares for Leila. He had assumed she had no parents—he’d never had any, and could recognize the loss in others.
He’d had no idea they were murdered. He shut his eyes, more shame falling upon him. She’s been through too
much in her short life. He grieved for her. His voice cracking from emotion, Raphael asked, “May I touch you now?”
She barely inclined her head. Taking that as encouragement, he gingerly took her hand, like she’d done with him before. “I’ll sing to you whenever you ask,” he told her. He would do anything she wanted him to.
Mary shivered as their drinks were placed in front of them. “I’ll give you one more chance,” she said after she took a sip. As she licked the cream from her lips, Raphael instantly felt his body stir. “But it’s only because you sang to me and know how I like my hot chocolate.”
Raphael laughed, put her drink on the table, and then pulled her into his lap. “You won’t regret this, ülikena.” He pushed her soft hair from her ear and kissed it. “For the next ten days, you’re mine.”
Mary chuckled; this time her smile took over her face, lighting her up. “Only if you’re mine in return.”
Raphael gave her a light squeeze. “I believe we have our terms.”
* * * *
Back at the firehouse, Heath waited for them by the front door. “Sebastian just got here—now we’re waiting for you,” he said.
Mary gave his hand a squeeze. “I’ll wait up,” she said with a smile.
At her words, Raphael felt hope bloom in his chest. She’d waited for him earlier, and she would do it again despite his harsh words. What an extraordinary woman. He ran his thumb across her cheek. “Thank you,” he told her. Oh, how he meant it.
When Mary left, Raphael watching her hips swing to the same rhythm as her waist-length hair, Heath walked in the opposite direction, toward the garage that used to house fire trucks. Now the floors were padded and mini-fridges scattered the room, filled with raw meat and water. The chains that held them each full moon were hidden under latches in the floor. The garage door was rigged to stay permanently closed, and the door to the rest of the firehouse was latched using heavy weights on a lever.
Punished Page 8
