Cold Mercy (Northern Wolves) (6 page)

There was a chick out here too? And if she thought she could sweet talk a damned black bear she was wrong. Slowly, Zeke rolled his head, trying to get a look at the situation without moving enough to draw attention to himself. He wouldn’t be of any use to the lady if he ended up bear chow.

He saw the woman first. Her ghost-white complexion nearly blended in with the snow, offset only by her long black hair and red, ruby lips. The same color red as a hooker’s lipstick in some cheap porno flick. Zeke frowned. The damn girl had to be freezing too. Dressed in nothing but a sheer white gown that he could easily see-through.
Sexy as hell, though. Probably the prettiest lunch this bear had ever seen
.

Then she turned and looked at him, her eyes coal-black, and a hard shiver jolted down his spine. Something tainted and dark stared out of those eyes. Her red lips curved into a smile and a drop of red dripped down her chin. Blood?

“Hello,” she said, and leaned towards him, one hand splayed over the snow to hold her weight. Another drop of red dribbled past her lips and fell to the snow. Definitely blood. Zeke swallowed. Fuck, but this was some creepy ass shit.

Zeke slid his arms under his chest, ready to launch himself into motion when the bear growled again, this time moving into view. It wasn’t a bear either. And there wasn’t just one. Wolves. Each one as white as snow, big enough to give grizzly a good run for its dinner, and all of them stared at him, teeth bared.

“Shh,” the woman said again, followed by the warm caress of her fingers down his cheek.

I died. That’s it. Died and gone to Hell from the looks of it.

“You didn’t die,” she whispered. Her lips curved into a grin, the same wicked smile Zeke was sure the devil would wear, and more blood dribbled out of her mouth. With each drop that hit the snow came a rancid scent, one that made his stomach roll, and bile stick to the back of his throat. The woman blew softly across his face and he realized the stench was coming from her. Rotten. Vile.

“You didn’t die,” she repeated. “Not yet.”

Her hand played up and down his cheek, tracing feather-light circles against his skin. He could see three wolves, and those odds spelled a dismal chance for survival if he tried to run. A normal wolf or bear could have gutted him easily. Whatever the hell these wolves were, Zeke had a feeling they were even faster. He wouldn’t get far.

His tongue slid out, swiping over his dry, cracked lips. He needed time. To think, to come up with a plan.
Keep her talking
. He froze. She’d read his damned mind last time.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Quite easily. It’s a little trick of mine. And there won’t be any running.”

One of the wolves nosed closer to her, the beast’s black eyes intent on him, even as it sidled up to her, nosing at her for pets. The others crowded in like puppies. She extended a hand to Zeke. “I’m Morrigan. Queen of the Winter Fae.”

The
what?
She rolled the r’s in her name making it sound like a purr rather than a word. Not quite human. Vampire? Zeke fought hard not to groan. The fact that he was even considering such a thing said something about his sanity, and it wasn’t good. He was bound for a straight jacket. She scooted closer across the snow and caught his face between her hands. Her palms felt like icy shards against his cheeks, painful in their brutal cold, but Zeke didn’t dare pull away.

Her soulless eyes stared down at him, but there was no emotion in them. “Don’t run, I don’t want to kill you.”

She could have fooled him. The growling of her little pet wolves there said otherwise. Zeke tried to pull his head back but her fingers tightened painfully, her nails digging into his cheeks.

“Then what do you want?” he asked, his voice hoarse. As far as Zeke was concerned, any time someone was psycho said they wouldn’t kill you, they typically did. He wasn’t about to buy the whole I-don’t-want-to-kill-you bullshit. Nor did he want to stick around long enough to find out if he was right.

Staying wasn’t an option, but at the moment, nor was running.

“I
want
my people back.” Something in her face softened. Zeke couldn’t figure out what had changed. By all appearances she
looked
the same, but he could feel the sadness around her.

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“I need my power back first.” Blood dribbled from her mouth and she leaned down. Zeke jerked violently backwards, catapulting himself to his feet, but a paw slammed into his chest and he went spinning. Staggering, Zeke caught himself against the base of a tree, only to see the woman standing in front of him, close enough that her breasts brushed his chest as she breathed.

No one could move that fast.

“I can.” Morrigan grinned. One pale hand touched his chin. “Close your eyes, Zeke. It’ll be easier for you that way.”

He shook his head, ready to launch himself into a run, ready to die if it meant escaping, when suddenly his eyelids felt heavy. His body didn’t move. The white, winter world around him suddenly went dark.

Zeke stood there, one hand pressed against the rough tree trunk, and the tactile sensation helped keep him grounded. But when something wet pressed against his lips he stiffened, his entire body screaming at him to run. Panic made his heart pick up speed, a wild thud in his pulse. Blood oozed down his chin and then came the pain.

Agony so rich it made his knees give out, but arms held him in place. Small, slim arms that held more strength than Zeke ever would have thought possible. In his mind, Zeke screamed, a torturous, raw sound that left him hollow. Then his lips went numb and he couldn’t feel anymore.

Hush now.
The words whispered through his head, soft and feminine.
Morrigan. Hush. You’re mine now; let me take away your pain.

The soothing croon of her voice was the last thing Zeke heard before he passed out.

***

With shaky hands, Bay gripped the coffee mug as he sat on his back porch, not caring that the snow had long ago left his butt numb. Rascal lounged at his side, the pup’s head resting on his knee, but Bay didn’t dare look at the dog. Not when he could still remember the dream. The black haired woman was back. The one from the day of the car crash. He’d thought of her as just a dream, a nightly hallucination. Something not real.

Until Rascal and his blonde haired owner had waltzed into Bay’s life. Then he had started to wonder just how much of his dreams were real. God, how he hoped not much of them. The image of her lips dripping with blood replayed in his mind, the viper-like fangs she’d had for teeth when she’d turned to him, her lips pulled back in a hiss. But it was the memory of the man from last night’s dream that left Bay cold.

The ruddy haired victim that had slumped down into the snow, lifeless. Bay started to lift the cup to his mouth when he froze. Had he watched a man die last night? He couldn’t remember much. Blurry images of the woman, only clarifying when she’d turned and snarled at him. He’d done something, moved too close, whined—
something
—but she hadn’t liked it and he could still feel the pain of her mental backlash as she’d hissed at him.
Back off.

And he had. Watching helplessly as she turned back to her victim. The dream had blurred then, only clarifying again with the image of the man falling into the snow, his face bloody. Dead or alive though, Bay didn’t know. He didn’t even know where to look to try and find the other man. He had nothing more than a face to go off of and it wasn’t like he spent much time in town. He’d never know if the other man lived in Mercy Pass, or if he was just another tourist in for the season.

Rascal whined next to him and Bay gave an exhausted sigh. “Hell, boy, I don’t even know.”

Dumping his morning coffee out into the snow, Bay gave up on trying to piece together the dream for his journal. Bracing one hand on his knee, he shoved to his feet and had started to turn back to the house when he heard the truck pull up. Rascal gave an excited bark and darted down the stairs, racing towards the blonde woman now getting out of the vehicle.

Eden.

She stuffed her gloved hands into the pockets of her coat as she approached, her head cocked slightly. Her lips were tilted in a teasing grin and Bay felt his heart kick in his chest.
Real. It was all real
. “You feeling better today?”

Not at all, but he didn’t dare say it. As much as the sight of her terrified him, along the implications it brought to the surface, she broke up the constant replay going on in his head. The gut-wrenching worry that he turned into a monster every time he closed his goddamned eyes. Or worse, that he’d watched someone die last night and hadn’t done a damn thing to save the person.

“Much,” he breathed. “Thank you.”

Setting aside his empty coffee mug, Bay strode to meet her half way, his hand extended. She took it, her grip firm as she gave him a good, solid shake. Confident. Heat flared at the touch of her skin. She radiated warmth, even in the cold winter wind, and Bay found himself wanting to lean closer. He caught the faintest whiff of jasmine again, a subtle hint of her perfume that made him want to bury his face in her hair and breathe in her scent.

He stiffened.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
He’d just met her for Christ’s sake.

“Good. Nice to see you on two feet.” Rascal danced around her heels and she laughed, leaning down to give the pup a slew of gentle pats down his back. “Hey, Smug.”

The dog wiggled free and darted around the yard, drawing a laugh out of both of them. The little guy dug in, torpedoing from her truck, up to Bay’s porch, and back again, drawing circles in the snow around them. “Smug, come on. You’re making me dizzy.”

Bay watched as the pup bowled himself over, collapsing into a wriggling snowball as he rolled under the pine tree between Bay’s house and shop. Eden shook her head, a merry giggle sounding from her, but Bay couldn’t shake the gnawing way the pup’s name clawed at his heart.

“Smuggler.” The name stuck in his throat and Bay coughed. After today, the pup would be gone, and it’d be just him and his nightmares once more. “How’d he get that name?”

“Oh,” Eden turned, grinning, and kicked up a clump of snow. “I run Smuggler’s Cove. I’m a tour guide. I take people out on the trails around here, let them see the sights. I named it for the beach run, it’s a tourist favorite.”

He’d heard of the place. Little waterfalls, half hidden from the world. He could see why people enjoyed going up and seeing it, and he could see why she’d nabbed the name for her business. It was cute. After all, she showed the world the hidden gems of their little town.

“And this little guy here is a pirate. It fits.”

Bay nodded. “I called him Rascal, so I guess he has a running theme with his names.”

She laughed at that, already heading back towards her truck. Bay followed, his attention shifting from the rambunctious pup to the broken sled. Unease rippled through him.
Fuck
. But that was broken because of him. What if she hadn’t been able to get to the bear spray? What if she hadn’t been able to give him a good dousing? Would the monster have stopped before he killed her?

Or would she have been like the man last night? An unknown victim that he couldn’t even remember?

Fists tight at his side, Bay shuddered slightly at the memory.
She survived
. And she had, and stressing over what could have been was only going to drive him nuts. Well, more nuts. What he needed to focus on was repairing the damage he’d done, and then, somehow, into getting control of whatever was happening at night. He’d start chaining his ass to the bed if he had to.

Bay stepped up behind her, trying to turn his attention to the job at hand, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the slim line of her neck just above her coat. The pale skin, untouched, the sweet scent wafting up to him. Bay’s jaw ached with the urge to lean over and nip the curve of her neck. He rocked back on his heels, his breath a hiss between his teeth. What was wrong with him?

He wanted to
bite
her? First he wanted to smell her, now bite her. He needed to get his ass under control. Now.

Eden flipped the tailgate down, jarring Bay’s attention to her as she hopped into the back of the truck, her movements quick and efficient, graceful. Bay couldn’t help but watch the easy way she bent over the sled and pulled it towards the entrance.
Nice ass
. As fast as the thought came, he shoved it out. He was not here to drool, bite, or smell—anything.
Fix the stupid sled, you oaf
.

Eden turned and caught him looking, one corner of her lips hitched up in an amused smile. “Wanna help with this?”

Smooth
. Grimacing a little with the embarrassment, Bay reached up and grabbed hold of the runner, pulling the sled smoothly off the back of her truck and together they set it easily down into the snow, her hopping down behind it. “Pretty nasty accident you had.” He kept his voice even. “It’s busted up pretty good.”

“The question is, can you fix it?”

“Yeah. I’ll need about a week.”

Her nose scrunched at that and damn, but she was cute, which was at least the most normal reaction he’d had about her all day. Still, Bay had a sudden urge to see her without her coat. Just to see what she looked like without ten pounds of down and fabric draped over her. Whether it was the monster in him that wanted to see or the man, Bay wasn’t sure.