Alpha Curves (Paranormal BBW Shifter Romance): Wolf Clan Book 3 (10 page)

Another chuckle escaped Dana, deeper and longer than his mirth over Colt's predicament.

Retrieving the ball of paper, Cade rose and walked to the trashcan. He dropped the paper inside and turned so that his body angled slightly toward the door of Dana's office. "I appreciate the morning's hospitality--"

"If that's your way of telling me to butt out, you need to be more direct, Cade Mercer." Seeing him take his first step toward leaving the room, Esme passed her hand in front of her. The door slammed shut and locked. "If you love her, you'll give her more time and you'll trust that she only left because she had to."

Cade froze mid-step and turned back to the witch. "Did she say that? Did she tell you why she left?"

Esme hesitated before shaking her head. "She didn't tell me and I didn't ask."

Cade moved until he stood directly in front of Esme. Bending, he wrapped his hands around the sides of the chair she sat in, ignoring Dana's warning growl.

"Did you
see
why she left?"

"No. She's locked up so damn tight, I can't see what drove her away," she answered without hesitation. "Trying to read her isn't anything like it is with humans or other latents. Iris is incredibly powerful, both her wolf and her magic. But I know something terrible happened to her."

"If she hasn't told you and you can't see it, then you know nothing." Despite his denial, all the blood drained from Cade's face as he straightened. Esme rose from her chair, wrapped her hands around his elbows and turned, forcing him to sit down.

"It might have been after she left the clan, but I don't think so." Shooting a glance in her mate's direction, Esme drew a slow breath and held it.

"Tell me what you're holding back," Cade begged, capturing the witch's hands and squeezing.

"We had a long discussion -- about Quentin, how he kidnapped me and Leah, the brutality..."

Dana stilled, his expression freezing. Unwinding her hands from Cade's, Esme approached her mate. The back of her fingers, glowing with witch light, brushed against his cheek before she lightly kissed his mouth. Sliding his chair away from the desk, he pulled her down and bundled her onto his lap.

Satisfied her presence in her mate's embrace would keep Dana soothed, Esme looked at Cade and continued. "She started to shake like she was terrified. Like she was remembering something similar happening to her or fighting like hell not to remember. I felt her fear, even if I couldn't see its cause. Suffocating...bleak...and so much physical pain that I still ache from the memory."

A shudder ran through the witch's body. She buried her face against Dana's neck. He stroked her hair, his chair gently rocking until she recovered her composure and looked at Cade once more. "Do you really think a human could have frightened or hurt her so badly she still carries that kind of fear from the experience?"

Cade shook his head. "Even at eighteen, she could have snapped a human's neck if she wanted to. She just didn't have confidence in her ability to do so."

Dana grunted in agreement. "That leaves Hunters or another wolf. And if it was Hunters, wouldn't she--"

Dana went silent as Esme's cell phone buzzed from inside the heavy folds of her skirt. She fished it from the pocket and looked at the display.

"One second, it's Leah." Despite the grim talk, she brought the phone to her ear and answered with a smile on her lips. "Hello bestie, can this wait?"

"Oh, Seth..." The smile fell from her face, the lips parting to show a hint of teeth as she sucked a deep breath in. Frantically untangling from Dana's arms, she stood.

"Okay, I'm on my way." She snapped the phone shut then rifled through her pockets as she headed toward the office door.

Dana lifted her car keys from where she had left them on his desk and jingled them at her. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Spinning around, Esme bobbed her hands in the air, her mouth refusing to work for a few seconds before she blurted, "Baby!"

Her breathing quickened as her hands made an impotent, grabby gesture at her keys.

"You mean a baby, baby?" Dana asked, coming around his desk at the same time Cade stood up.

"Yes!" Esme nodded. "Leah's water just broke. She's having the baby!"

Chapter Ten

Dirt clogged her mouth and nose. Her throat convulsed and her gut twisted with the choking need to vomit as the clumps of soil and grass cut off her air and many unidentified somethings wriggled and crawled against her tongue and gums and cheeks. A heavy knee pressed against her spine. One hand threaded through her hair, pulling her head up just enough for her to spit out the dirt and insects and see the deep hole that had been dug in the ground in front of her.

Two males, wolves from another clan or even rogues, worked next to the makeshift grave as they positioned fifty gallon drums. Thick rubber gloves covered their hands. The liquid sloshing inside the barrels hissed when it breached the bung cap and kissed air.

They were going to kill her, put her in the ground and pour some kind of acid over her to destroy her scent and any evidence, but not until after Hank Mercer had humiliated her.

Claws ripped at her clothes, shredding the fabric and the first layer of skin beneath.

"Kill her already," one of the men yelled. Sweat poured down his face despite the cool weather and stiff breeze.

"Why?" Hank grunted. "Not like the bitch is gonna shift on me."

That was it -- the reason she would soon be dead. She couldn't shift and Cade Mercer wanted to spend the rest of his life with her anyway. Hank had other plans for his son -- pack leader, maybe even clan leader one day. That would never happen with her by Cade's side.

Rolling Iris onto her back, Hank shredded her blouse, gouging channels in her pale, soft flesh. She screamed. Pain rolled her eyes back in her head, but not before she saw the second male staring at the blood, his mouth slightly ajar and a quiet, mesmerized smile on his face.

She swung a fist at Hank's head, all her fleeting strength focused on one last shot. Her hand connected with his cheek, but the blow only pissed him off even more. He punched her face. The cartilage in her nose snapped slow and wet, like green twigs stepped on after a morning rain. Blood spurted, drops of it landing in her eyes to paint her entire vision red.

One of the men, the sick bastard that had been watching with fascination, kneeled next to Hank. He had a knife of some kind, long and with a narrower blade than she had ever seen.

"Silver?" Hank snarled. "You dumb ass motherfucker! Get that the fuck away from me!"

Ignoring Hank, the man put the edge of the blade against Iris's throat. It felt dull, but her skin started to heat and tingle at contact. The sensation quickly spread along her body, buzzing in her head and along her limbs. The fine, almost invisible hairs along her neck and arms rose as if she were standing in the middle of a field during an electrical storm.

The tips of her fingers went numb and then blazed white hot. The air crackled and sizzled. On either side of her, the two strangers fell to the ground, their bodies engulfed in blue flame. Light of the same hue as the fire danced in the palm of her hand as she reached for the abandoned blade.

Hank got to it first, burying its tip deep into her chest. Searing heat engulfed her flesh and she heard the air
whoop
as it left the pierced lung. Another zap of energy and the light jumped from her palm to forcefully collide with Hank Mercer's face.

His head snapped back, his stunned body falling to the side. Pulling the blade out of her chest, Iris rolled toward him and slammed the entire dagger, point first, into his gut. She twisted the hilt, the thumb of her other hand trying to gouge its way through his eye and into his brain.

Shrieking filled her ears as the other men burned. The flames jumped from the body closest to her to the barrel filled with acid. The air turned poisonous, burning her eyes and throat as the acid bubbled along the rim of the barrel's cap and the entire container started to bulge.

Releasing Hank, she tried to stand, every neuron in her brain firing with the command to RUN as fast and far as she could. Her legs wouldn't obey. They folded beneath her. She clawed at the ground, pulling and pushing, torso thumping against the dirt.

A hand grabbed her ankle. She looked over her shoulder at the murderous gaze of Hank Mercer, respected pack leader and father of the man she loved.

"I'll kill him if you come back," he snarled. "Him and that bitch grandmother of yours..."

She kicked her foot, her shoe connecting hard enough with Hank's face that his grip slipped. Grabbing the hilt of the silver blade, he pulled it from his stomach, the flesh protesting wetly as it was forced to release the metal.

He was healing, faster than she could hope to match. Tears of pain, still crimson tinged from the blood spilled, filled her eyes as she forced her legs to lift her mass and move forward in a stumbling run away from certain death.

********************

The blare of a horn jerked Iris upright and onto her feet, her hand instinctively landing on the nightstand in search of the pistol Cade had stripped from her weeks ago. Half caught in the nightmare from which the horn had woken her, she could feel Hank Mercer's hot breath on her back as she ran, her lower limbs like spider legs, everything disjointed, disobedient and unwieldy.

The horn sounded again, jerking her fully awake. She glanced at the clock, the flashing display indicating that the power had gone out while she slept. She was supposed to be showered and dressed already. Whichever wolf was at her door had come to take her to the small hall that served as the clan's community center. Several of the lost cubs would be there waiting for her to question them.

Wrapping a robe around her, she left the bedroom and unlocked the front door. Noting the tall, lanky form of Tanner as he reached through his driver side window to give another honk, her top lip curled.

Nothing personal -- she was just sick of wolves from Mercer's pack guarding her, especially after the bad dream that had chased her through the night.

Heading back down the hall to the bathroom, she heard Tanner open the front door.

"Sorry about the horn, but I knocked a good five minutes," he explained. "It was that or bust the door down to see if you were okay."

She grunted her acceptance of his apology before disappearing into the bathroom. Anticipating a night of restless sleep, she had picked out the day's clothes and hung them on the back of the bathroom door the prior night. With the air turning colder, she had selected a chenille sweater and jeans. Not only would it be comfortable and warm, but the cubs would find the soft fabric less intimidating than more formal clothing.

As much as Dana Gladwin believed otherwise, she wanted the children to feel safe when she questioned them.

Piling her hair into a loose bun, she stepped into the shower, her movements quick and efficient as she washed. Three minutes later she was in front of the sink, putting on a hint of makeup to hide her sleepless night and combing out her hair while her body air dried.

Finished, she studied her naked form for a few seconds in the mirror. Rather than an aesthetic evaluation, she was looking for changes -- heavier breasts, swollen nipples or any other clue that she might be pregnant. She felt like she would know if she was, but the potion Esme kept feeding her, and the charms, dulled her senses in ways the silver and wards never had. And she was too proud to ask any of the wolves -- even Tanner, who now had a mate and was therefore exempt from Esme's other foul concoctions -- if her scent had changed.

She didn't think she was pregnant, and she couldn't imagine the news being kept from Cade if one of his wolves scented a baby on her. Then again, maybe they had told him and he didn't care enough to check on his own.

"Don't go there, North," she admonished her reflection. "You don't care if he cares -- it's better if he doesn't."

With that, she dressed quickly, grabbed a pair of sneakers from the bedroom closet and met Tanner in the kitchen. He had brewed a pot of coffee while she showered and dressed. Offering a faint smile, he handed her a cup.

"You look worse than I do," she said. "Bad night for Michelle?"

A slight nod was all she got out of him. The entire topic of his mate was a sore spot for him. Four days after Iris's rescue in Columbus, the team had gone out on another call. Again, there were Hunters at the scene. The three-wolf team managed to kill the two men, but it would be several more days before Michelle was conscious after the blow to the head she had taken when the Hunters grabbed her. When she finally did wake, seizures had plagued her daily.

To make matters even worse, the latent was barely more than a girl -- a sweet-faced twenty-year-old with strawberry hair and emerald green eyes. In contrast, gray edged the temples of Tanner's dark brown hair. More than a few laugh lines etched the sides of his mouth and gray eyes. His voice sounded like coffee beans run through a grinder from the magic-infused silver buckshot he'd taken to the throat a decade ago during a Hunter ambush. With Tanner unable to make it safely back to the clan for several weeks, the scars from the injury had never fully healed. Pockmarks speckled his throat and the lower right of his jawline, the front of his face saved from any impact only because of his quick reaction.