Cry of the Wolf (12 page)

“Yes, sir,” he muttered.

Gabriel eyed him scrupulously and waited.

“Sir?”

“Are you telling me that you never noticed a storm-wielder in your midst that night?”

“As I put in my report, as soon as that grenade dropped I understood the wolves’ intentions and I fled the building the moment everyone rushed in, and the grenade exploded. There was a female wolf there – the Alpha’s mate is who Loretta believed her to be – but there was no indication at all that she was a storm-wielder.”

Silence. “Fled the building, Amil?”

Amil gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir.”

“Not very loyal of you, was it?”

But very astute as I’m still alive, sir.
He kept his mouth shut. Tridents, for the most part, were a bunch of idiots, right down to the way they liked to parade the symbol of their species around: on the front of their buildings, on their clothes and letterheads, sometimes on their bodies as tattoos…
I mean, come on!
They were getting cocky in their indiscretion. Loyalty was one thing, but that was loyalty to a fault. Loyalty was useless if it got you killed. That didn’t make you loyal, it made you a schmuck. A dead one.

Gabriel steepled his fingers together, still gazing at him, indomitably, as if he knew things about him even he couldn’t fathom. “I want to know who and where. There’s a she-wolf somewhere in Surrey who harnesses the power of creation. The one wretched thing we share with the wolves is the need for the storm. I want her locked up in a cage – our cage. Whoever she is, she’s our life-blood. That blood needs to be flowing in
our
veins – bred into
our
species – and her electrical maelstrom needs to be channelled appropriately.”

“I’ll find her, sir. I promise you I’ll find her.” And he had no doubt he could keep that promise. He had the blouse – the one he’d secreted away. The one that had faint traces of his lovely Sarah on it, and the one that boldly carried the she-wolf’s scent. The storm-wielder.

Storm-wielder.
That boggled his mind. It didn’t seem possible…

He’d have to be careful. He still didn’t fully understand why the wolf’s blouse had Sarah’s scent on it … and another one – the scent of a male wolf that
wasn’t
the Alpha Loretta had captured. Sarah’s had been the weakest scent – barely there – and he couldn’t tell if it was connected to the she-wolf or the male. There was a possibility the she-wolf was a friend of Sarah’s somehow… Yes, he’d have to tread very carefully…

“Don’t disappoint me, Amil. Your background is … colourful; your entry into The Trident no less so.”

He blanched. He didn’t want to talk about this.

“Do you know why Dr Trident created us?”

Because he suffered from delusions of grandeur.

“Because of his need to perfect power. He saw the werewolf with all its weaknesses, and knew he could do
better
. You do want to be part of a better race, don’t you?”

“Of course, sir. I strive for perfection in all I do.” No need to lie – that statement was true.

Gabriel eyed him in silence, assessing him, then waved his hand. “Dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Amil. He made no attempt to linger and strode out of the door of Gabriel’s office as quickly as he could without looking like he was rushing.

An awful smell assaulted his senses, and he zoned in on an old, human woman sitting on a chair in the waiting area. She was
way
too old for mating – what the hell was she doing here?

Damn it, Amil, you’re curious to a fault; always have been.

This was true. He turned his attention away from her and got the hell out of there. He had other things to worry about.

Stepping out into the afternoon sun, he let out a sigh of relief and looked at his watch. Ten past four. Shit. He’d have to rush after all.

~*~

Lydia had no recollection of how she ended up lying face down on the soft earth. When had she let go of the pine tree?

Lawrence was still on her – in her – his breathing less heavy, his wet cheeks pressed into her shoulder.

Wet cheeks…

She gave in, at last, to the urge that overruled all others and turned over in his arms so she faced him.

He glanced at her, diffidently, then lowered his eyes.

She wasn’t having any of that and neither was her wolf. In her mind, the animal languished, contentedly, in post-coital bliss. Yeah, her wolf was pretty damn happy right now, and a little smug that she’d gotten her way. Cheeky bitch.

With a tentative hand, she stroked the side of Lawrence’s face, tracing his tears, then turned him to meet her gaze again.

“I’m not good at this,” he whispered. “I’m sorr—”

Her thumb on his lips silenced him. “The one thing you should never do to a woman, whether you make love to her or fuck her, is apologise straight after.” She offered him a small smile.

He returned it with an even smaller one, but he looked ghostly pale.

“I’m no good for you. As a mate, I mean. I’m about as damaged as they come, Lydia. I have nothing to offer you.”

“I guess the powers that be think differently.”

He shook his head. “I … I need to tell you things…”

She raised her eyebrows, waiting.

“Not here. Tonight.”

She didn’t think it was possible, but he turned a shade whiter. “Lawrence, you don’t have to tell me anyth—”

“I do. It’s been too long … too long since…” He trailed off, unable to finish whatever he was trying to say. “Besides, you’re my mate – you really should know.” He attempted another smile. She wondered if it hurt because it was so rigid she was scared he might crack under the strain of it.

So much ice.

She thumbed a drying tear away.

How much water can the weight of ice carry?

Without thinking, she grasped the back of his head, leaned towards him and kissed him.

It was chaste and soft, and he was solid as stone … until finally, he yielded. She brushed his lips with her tongue, lightly. He let out a small moan, then responded in kind, gently. Far too gently for the tempestuous act they had both played out just moments ago.

When the kiss ended, he looked at her with nothing less than astonishment. “What was that?”

A little laugh flittered out of her. “A kiss. That was our first kiss.” She touched her forehead to his. “I wanted something soft to remember you by, because we both know you’re going to go back to being hard as soon as we leave here.”

He looked at her impassively, and then with meaning. “I don’t want to be like that with you; I don’t want to push you away.”

“Then don’t.”

But there was that impassiveness clouding his eyes again. She sighed internally, but didn’t hold it against him. She had caught a glimpse – more than a glimpse – of the black hole he lived in. She had no idea what had caused that terrible chasm, but the need to protect yourself was something she related to.

Guilt for her chaotic part in Brendan’s life tugged at her heart. He was right – she
had
pushed him away. Him and everyone else. She vowed to make it up to him as soon as she got the chance. And on that note, she supposed she should finally call her dad, too…

“It’s getting late.” Lawrence eased himself off her. “We should head back.”

She reached for her underwear and jeans as he fastened his trousers – they hadn’t even ridden down past his arse. Damn, he looked really fucking neat. She didn’t even have to look at herself to know she was a mess.

“What time are you free tonight?”

She stared at him.
I guess he really
does
want to tell me things
. “I’m on the late shift until closing.”

“Skip it. I’ll get someone else to cover for you.”

“But it’s Russell Maddox’s final performance. It’s going to be busy as hell – I really should be there.”

His face grew stormy at the mention of the actor.

What’s that about?
she thought as she did up her own trousers.

“I’m not sure I want you in the same building as him,” Lawrence growled.

“Er … okay… but poor Lisa’s gonna be—”

He sighed. “Fine, but I’m picking you up after work and bringing you straight back. I need to run a background check on that guy – I don’t want you anywhere near him alone, got it?”

Astounded, she agreed. “Funny thing about Hollywood celebs is they never want to hang out with me either, so I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

Without warning, she was pinned to his chest, his mouth on hers in a possessive kiss that was nothing like the last one.

Whoa…

“I mean it, Lydia,” he said, his voice low. “You’re a storm-wielder who appeared out of the blue, and he’s … a problem that appeared out of the blue at around the same time. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t take a chance that it’s coincidence. I’m not putting you in danger and I’m sure as hell not losing you, no matter what else I have to lose in the process.”

She had no words. The force of his protectiveness stunned her out of all vocabulary. It was
so
the opposite to how he’d been with her since she’d woken up in his house. She simply nodded her head.

He calmed down a fraction. “I’ll ask Taylor to be there with you tonight, just to be on the safe side.”

She held back from telling him she thought he was erring on the dramatic side of protective. What exactly was an actor with such a high profile going to do to her?

But what the heck – it would be nice to have some Taylor company. She’d missed him this morning. And maybe she could ask Taylor to go pick her truck up tomorrow.

Lawrence straddled his motorcycle, then held out his hand to her.

Lawrence, her mate. Bonded.

Life was weird, wasn’t it?

With a little smile, she took it and hopped on the back. Her arms nestled around his waist and they headed home.

~*~

The numbers 17:05 flashed at her mockingly from the DVD machine.

It’s okay, it doesn’t mean anything.

Sarah smoothed her slightly sweaty palms against her light summer cardigan. It might be a warm evening, but she didn’t want to take a risk. She swore she had heard a roll of thunder far off in the distance a little earlier and the breeze seemed to have picked up again.

Not that it mattered because maybe she was about to be stood up.

Don’t be stupid, girl! Five minutes late means nothing.

A wave of self-consciousness washed over her. God, it had been so long since she’d been on a date – a proper date…

Maybe Amil has car trouble like he had three weeks ago.

The thought of that made her go cold, and she really had to get to grips with herself. Why the hell did she keep getting all panicky whenever she thought about cars breaking down? She’d noticed it over the past few months; even fictional scenarios on the television – on some lame, lifetime drama – of cars failing on their owners would have her shaking. Bloody ridiculous.

Her Blackberry sang out a shrill note.

She grabbed it fast out of her handbag, her heart leaping to her throat … oh – email.

It was from Holly.

Sarah frowned.

Freaking hell, Sarah, it took me a whole bloody hour ransacking my attic to find your email address. Now will you please tell me what happened to Taylor? And don’t you dare dismiss me like you did earlier. We both know what he meant to you. You guys were like Romeo and Juliet or something. Email me back. I get them on my iPhone, so I can get back to you straight away.

Holls xxx

“Who the hell is Taylor?” she muttered to the thin air.
And what is my email address doing in your attic, my dear best friend?
she thought wryly.

Well, Amil still wasn’t here.

She hit Reply.

Holly, my email address was in your attic? Why, pray tell? And I have no idea who Taylor is. Do you have the right friend? Do you have the right email address? (Kidding.)

Speak tomorrow.

Unless my date stands me up, then I may be bawling down the phone to you in a few hours.

S xx

She sighed, rose from her sofa to stretch her legs and wondered if she should have another pee before he got here. But that would mean carefully pulling her tights down, then painstakingly pulling them up again without laddering them, and making sure her dress remained wrinkle free, and then she’d have to check her make-up and hair because she wouldn’t
not
be able to…