Midnight Temptation

by L Ann

  She had crept out of the room, checked to make sure no one was in the hallway and made her way to the study where she was pretty sure Cormac was. She hadn’t yet summoned up the courage to knock, but something told her that that he knew she was there. Before Damien she had never been someone who scared easily but the oldest of the three brothers did scare her in a way Shaun and Deacon, and even Damien didn’t. There was an air of menace about him, a less-than-human feel. She assumed some of it had something to do with him being the Pack Alpha, but she also felt there was a part of it that was just Cormac himself.

  “Are you going to come in or stay out there all day?” his voice rang out impatiently, startling Gemma out of her thoughts.

  She pushed open the door and entered the study. Cormac sat behind the large desk, feet propped up on the top and a glass of amber liquid held between the fingertips of one hand. His strange silver eyes were unreadable, watching as she crossed the room and dropped into the seat opposite him.

  “You’re anxious and scared,” he said, his voice a low rich drawl, and she froze in the seat. “You put on a good show, but if you want to truly mask your emotions, you need to work on controlling your scent.” His feet dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, and he leaned forward to place his glass on top of the desk. “Are you here to tell me you wish to return to your home in the town?” At her hesitant nod, he canted his head sideways. “It took you longer than I thought it would, I’ve been expecting you all week.”

  “You have?”

  Cormac steepled his fingers, and gazed at her over the top of them, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve been acting like a wounded animal, hiding away licking your wounds. I’m not saying you’ve been wrong to do so,” he continued over her protests. “It’s only natural. You went through something any human would find difficult to recover from.”

  “Human … you say that like I’m not human.”

  One dark winged eyebrow arched upwards. “Do you still think you are? While, as a half-breed, you don’t have the ability to shift and you could go through the rest of your life without it, once you mate with one of our kind, that will change.”

  “I’m not a member of your Pack!” Her throat closed up, panic threatening to overwhelm her. “You can’t force me to be–”

  “I wasn’t aware I was forcing you to do anything,” Cormac spoke over her, his voice crisp. “But you are wrong about the Pack part. Whether you like it or not, you are a Pack member now, which puts you under my care. And, make no mistake, Gemma, I take my responsibilities very seriously.”

  “I’m not your responsibility,” she whispered.

  “And yet here you sit, waiting for my permission to return to town.” His voice was bland.. “If you didn’t think you were Pack, you wouldn’t have sought me out, therefore you are Pack,” he replied, a finality to his voice which stopped her from arguing further. “Now then,” he continued and pulled open a drawer. “I assume you do want to go back into town?” He drew out a set of car keys and slid them across the desk. “You can take one of the cars. If we need it, I’ll send someone to collect it.” His eyes shifted beyond her to the doorway and then back to her. “There’s been no sign of Damien so far, but I want your promise that you’ll take no chances. If you see or hear anything that feels wrong, you will contact us or come back here.”

  Gemma nodded. At that moment in time, she would have agreed to anything to make him remove his hands from the keys and let her leave.

  “Gemma, I need more than a nod from you.”

  “Yes, yes! I’ll keep in contact.” She snatched up the keys the moment Cormac released them and shot to her feet. “Can I go now?” At his nod, she almost ran to the door, then stopped. “Did Deacon … Have you spoken to Deacon?” she asked.

  “You’re going to have to be more specific on that. I speak to Deacon most days. Was there anything in particular he needs to talk to me about?”

  “I … no,” she said, and darted from the study.

  “Steady!” Warm hands caught and steadied her as she crashed into an unexpected body. Jerking backwards, Gemma looked up into the green eyes of her sister’s mate.

  “You’re up!” she gasped out.

  Shaun’s lips quirked up into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Up, moving around, breathing.”

  “How’s the–”

  “Addiction?” he finished and shrugged. “It’s still there, like an itch I can’t scratch.” He thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Nothing I can’t handle. What about you?”

  “Nothing therapy won’t fix.”

  “Gonna go to therapy?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Didn’t think so.” They stood staring at each other, then Shaun sighed. “You should never have–”

  “Don’t.” Gemma shook her head. “It happened. It’s done. It’s over. We’re not there anymore.”

  Shaun gave her a sharp look. “Aren’t we?” he asked in a low voice.

  “No, we’re not. I–” Gemma paused, seeing her sister coming toward them.

  “Chase is going to be so mad with you,” Cassie said as she drew nearer.

  Gemma happened to be watching Shaun when her sister reached them. The tension in his body eased the moment her hand slid over his arm. He wound an arm around her waist and pulled her closer against him.

  “It’s not like I’ve left the house, Goldilocks,” he murmured, bending his head to press a kiss to the top of her head.

  “But you have left your bed and Chase said not to overdo it.”

  “Our bed,” he corrected her, “and if you’d been there, I wouldn’t have had to get up and come looking for you.”

  “But–”

  “Cassie, I’m fine.” He nodded toward Gemma. “Maybe you should see how your sister is?”

  “I’m okay,” Gemma said before Cassie could speak. “In fact, I’ve just picked up car keys from Cormac. I’m going home.”

  Cassie frowned. “I thought you’d agreed to stay here until they found Damien?”

  “I can’t.” Gemma didn’t react to her captor’s name. “I need to get back to work. I’m running out of vacation time and unlike some I could mention.” Gemma smiled to take the sting out of her words. “I don’t have the luxury of a rich wolf shifter boyfriend who wants me to be a lady of leisure.”

  Shaun laughed. “A woman with her talent is wasted working in a bank. We’re going to convert one of the outbuildings to an art studio for her.” He gave Cassie a mock reproachful look. “Just as soon as she and Chase agree I’m not an invalid and can be trusted to walk around without collapsing or relapsing.” He glanced back at Gemma. “Does Deacon know?”

  “No.”

  “Have you talked to him about leaving?”

  “Why would I? It’s nothing to do with him.” She could hear the shrillness in her voice.

  “If you say so,” Shaun paused. “Did you say Mac had given you a car? Or would you like me to drive you home?”

  “Shaun …” Cassie warned softly, and Shaun mock-growled.

  “Deacon could drive you home,” he amended.

  “No!” Gemma almost yelled. “I mean, it’s okay. I can drive myself.”

  “When are you planning to leave?” Cassie asked.

  “As soon as I’ve packed. It’s for the best. I don’t belong here, Cass.”

  “Of course you belong here,” Shaun protested. “You both do.”

  Gemma smiled, but she knew her presence reminded Shaun of what Damien had done to him, just as his presence reminded Gemma too much of what had been done to her. “Thank you, but I really just want to get back to my own place.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Cassie asked, untangling herself from Shaun’s arms and reaching out to her.

  Gemma shook her head, and took a small step back, evading Cassie’s attempt to hug her. “No, you stay here. I’ll call you once I’m home.”

  Deacon wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of one hand be
fore hammering at the punch bag again. After Gemma’s broken confession about letting Damien into the Sanctuary, Deacon knew he had to back off, get out of the room before he said something that would make her blame herself more than she did. He’d almost knocked Jaden over as he strode from the games room, who had taken one look at his face and suggested they hit the gym.

  “Let me get this straight in my head,” Jaden said from where he held the punch bag. “She told you she was the one who let Damien onto our land and, even though you know he would have found a way here without her help, you didn’t actually say that to her? You just walked out and left her believing it was her fault?”

  Deacon’s fist connected with the bag again, causing Jaden to rock backwards. “It wouldn’t have mattered what I said to her. She’d have twisted it to make herself feel even more guilty.”

  “Because you walking out without saying a word didn’t do that at all,” came the dry response.

  Another quick one-two with both fists and then Deacon dropped his arms.

  “She blindsided me. I didn’t expect her to tell me that. And, yeah, I was angry. For a second, I’ll admit, I did blame her.” He picked up a towel and wiped his face, slung it across his shoulders and walked across to the weights bench. “I’ve had time to think about what she said, to calm down, and I know she’s not to blame. So what would you have me do, Jay? Should I go and tell her Damien would have shifted and got in another way? She’d tell me one of us would have sensed him long before he got to the house. How about I tell her it was only a matter of time, and if he hadn’t managed to get in that night, he’d have caught one of us another time?”

  “You could do that.”

  “And she’d point out that once the drug wore off, we’d have been aware and alert to danger. She’s not stupid, and all those arguments would have been valid.”

  “Do you believe it’s her fault?”

  Deacon lay back and settled himself under the weights, braced his arms and lifted. “Fuck, no. My reaction was born out of frustration and surprise. But it doesn’t matter what I think, does it?”

  Jaden moved around to stand by Deacon’s head. “You don’t think she needs to hear someone tell her it’s not her fault?”

  “What are you? A fucking shrink? I’m sure she’s got everyone telling her it’s not her fault. She doesn’t need me to add my voice to the chorus.”

  “Sometimes,” Jaden said slowly, “it doesn’t matter how many birds are singing the same song, when only one voice can make an impact.”

  “What the fuck does that even mean?” Deacon glowered up at him.

  “It means, my Pack Brother, that she needs you to tell her she’s not to blame.”

  Deacon placed the weights back on their stand and swung around to sit up. “And what makes you think it’s me who needs to tell her?”

  “Really, Deke? Are we going to stand here and pretend I didn’t walk in on the two of you getting hot and heavy near the lake just before all this shit went down?”

  “If, by hot and heavy, you mean she punched me in the face, then sure, that’s what you walked in on.”

  Jaden snorted a laugh and handed Deacon a bottle of water. “Most people punch with their fists, not their mouths.”

  Deacon was unscrewing the cap when Asher walked into the gym. He lifted a hand in greeting as he tipped the bottle against his mouth to take a drink.

  “There you are,” Asher said. “I thought you might like to know I overheard Gemma telling Mac she wants to go home. He gave her a set of keys and his blessing.”

  “He … what?” Deacon’s fingers clenched around the plastic bottle, spilling water down his t-shirt.

  “Yeah. As we’ve not been able to track Damien’s whereabouts since we brought her and Shaun home, he feels it’s safe enough for her to go back to town.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Deacon muttered.

  Gemma had just reached the narrow section of road where Cassie had been run off down the bank when she heard the rumble of an engine behind her. She glanced in the mirror to see a large black motorcycle closing the distance between them.

  Spine stiffening in sudden suspicion, she pulled over at the closest safe spot and waited for the bike to pass her.

  It didn’t.

  It rolled to a stop beside her car and its rider reached out to tap on the window. Gemma pushed the button to open it and came face to face with Deacon, who gave her a bright toothy smile.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, bracing herself to hear what he thought about her actions.

  “I had a sudden craving for Mama Dawson’s pie.”

  It wasn’t the response she’d been expecting and she gaped at him. “Right now? Minutes after I leave? When you haven’t been into town in over a week?”

  Deacon shrugged, the smile never wavering. “You haven’t been in town for a week, either. What’s your point?”

  “My point is you’re obviously following me, so if you have something to say just say it already!”

  “This is the only road into town,” he pointed out mildly.

  “And you decided to use it the exact moment I leave?”

  “Pretty wild coincidence, huh?” He leaned forward on the handlebars and smiled up at her.

  “It’s not a coincidence when you do it on purpose!” Gemma snapped.

  Deacon’s smile turned provoking. “Prove it.”

  “God, you’re annoying!” She scowled at him, threw the car into gear and drove away, her eyes glued to his smirking face in the rear-view mirror until she could no longer see him.

  Gemma parked the car, unlocked her front door and stepped inside. Had it only been nine days since the last time she’d been home? It felt like a lifetime ago - someone else’s life. She wasn’t the same person who’d walked out of her front door all that time ago. She scooped up the mail piled behind the door and carried it through to the kitchen. Absently, she threw it onto the kitchen table while her eyes scanned the room.

  After spending so much time at The Lodge, surrounded by the Pack, her house seemed unnaturally quiet.

  It’s fine. You just aren’t used to the silence anymore, she told herself. The idea was to come home, get back into your normal routine. Move forward. Make a plan!

  Gemma nodded to herself. The first thing she needed to do was go back to work. If she could get her shifts back at the diner, she knew from experience, they would exhaust her enough to help her sleep at night

  And ignore the fact you were running from Deacon? The insidious whisper inside her head added.

  Ignoring it, she pulled her phone from her pocket and dialled the number for the diner.

  The owner, Corinne, picked up on the second ring.

  “Darling!” The recognisable smoke-husky voice of the diner’s owner sounded down the line. “How are you and that beautiful sister of yours?”

  “We’re …” Gemma hesitated.

  Yeah, that’s right. Tell your boss how your sister is now dating a man who turns into a wolf and his cousin kidnapped you and kept you naked in a cage.

  “We’re good,” she forced herself to say. “Cassie is staying with her boyfriend, but I … I’d like to come back to work.”

  “Wonderful!” There was a pause, and Gemma knew the other woman was lighting up a cigarette. “We have missed you. Can you come in tomorrow evening for the late shift?”

  The late shift ran from six in the evening until midnight when the diner closed. They added another hour to that for the staff to clean up and prepare for the six am opening.

  “Yes,” Gemma replied, immediately. “That would be perfect.”

  “Fabulous.” Gemma could hear voices shouting down the line, and Corinne groaned. “I must go, darling. Chef is threatening Jamie again.”

  Gemma laughed, feeling herself relax for the first time in days. Chef and Jamie had been a fixture at the diner for years – their relationship was volatile and complex – and it was rare a day went by without one threatening viol
ence on the other. Corinne cut the call and Gemma slipped the phone back into her jeans back pocket.

  “I’ve been thinking …”

  With a strangled scream, Gemma spun around, fear rising at the unexpected male voice, to find Deacon leaning against the door frame, arms folded across his chest.

  “Oh my God! Deacon!” she gasped. “What the hell are you doing here?” The words came out as a jerky whisper while she battled to slow her racing heartbeat and clutched at her stomach.

  His brows pulled together into a frown, and he strode toward her.

  “Sit down,” he said, grasping her arm and drawing her toward a chair.

  “I’m fine!” Gemma jerked out of his grip but sank down onto the seat he’d been leading her to. “How … how did you get in? I locked the door.”

  He leaned a hip against the edge of the table beside her and looked down at her. “Those locks can’t keep me out. I don’t think they’d keep out a three year old. I’ll get Asher to upgrade your security.”

  “You broke in?” she whispered, aghast.

  Deacon shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d open the door if I knocked, and I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Don’t you have any concept of personal space?” she demanded and dragged a shaking hand through her hair. “God, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  His head tilted, eyes flaring gold, and Gemma’s breath caught in her throat as his golden gaze swept over her.

  What was he thinking?

  “You’re not having a heart attack,” he said into the silence. “I startled you because you have absolutely no awareness of your surroundings, which is a ridiculously human thing.” Deacon pushed away from the table, dragged out another chair, spun it around and straddled the seat. He rested his arms across the back and looked at her. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  Gemma stared back at him. “I don’t understand.”

  Why was he here? And, more to the point, why was he acting like she hadn’t admitted her guilt to him … or vomited all over his bedroom floor?