Dark Wolf Rising (Heart of the Shifter) (7 page)

He said nothing, then he looked over at her. "No," he said softly. "I'm doing this because you are the only person in the forsaken hell of my life who matters to me. Jace saved my ass, and Drake has stood by me, but no one knows me like you do. No one gives me a safe haven, Bryn. No one, except you."

Tears filled her eyes, and all of her misgivings about him and his motivation vanished. "I missed you," she said softly.

"Missed you, too." He held out his hand, and she slipped hers into his. He closed his fingers around hers and squeezed, a solid, warm grip that made her feel safe for the first time in a long time.

TWO HOURS LATER, Cash watched Bryn's face as she walked up to the old cabin that they'd hidden in so many times as kids. Her eyes were wide with wonder, her face soft with memories of a time before the world got uglier than it already had been.

She traced her hand over the doorframe, where he'd carved their initials one night. "Still there."

"Yep." He reached past her, unlocked the front door, and then disarmed the extensive security system. It might look like the same, ramshackle cabin it had once been, but he'd done a few upgrades. The walls and doors were now lined with steel. There was silver threading in the glass panes, and he'd installed a hidden floor panel that opened to two tunnels, heading in different directions. It was a lair of secrecy and survival now, the only safe place he had. Even Drake had never been there, though he knew it existed.

Bryn stepped inside, and stopped, staring at the pile of clothes folded neatly on his bed. "You have my things."

He'd forgotten about that. "Yeah. I got what I could. Didn't have much time."

She looked over her shoulder at him. "You broke into my apartment and took my clothes before coming to the hotel?"

"Yeah. It wasn't hard to find out where you lived. You need to work on that. You're too findable." He toed the door shut and reset the alarm, turning on the cameras and infrared sensors. A wall of computer monitors lit up the south wall, showing him every detail of everything moving in the vicinity. He watched closely for a moment, satisfying himself that they were alone.

Only then did he turn around to face her, and his heart seemed to freeze in his chest when he saw her sitting on his bed. Aside from Bryn, back before he even owned it, no one had ever set foot in his cabin. He needed it that way. After growing up in shitty foster homes, he needed a place where he could sleep without watching his back. He needed a space that belonged only to him, where no one could ever make a single rule that he had to obey. He needed this place to be his...but as he watched Bryn sitting on his bed, it felt right to have her there with him. It had always belonged to both of them, even when she wasn't there. Something eased inside his chest, something that had been hurting for a long time.

Her hair was tangled around her shoulders, and she looked tiny in his jacket. She was holding her arm awkwardly like it still hurt. Protectiveness surged deep inside him, a need to keep her safe. It was fierce, calling out his warrior side, but at the same time, it was soft, warm, all the things he'd long ago forgotten how to feel.

He'd forgotten what she gave to him. In his crappy childhood, she'd been the one breath of life and warmth. The one thing that had made him smile. The person who had taught him what it was like to have someone care about him. He'd changed since then. He'd become a survivor. He'd done things that had forced him to become hard...and he hadn't noticed it. Until now. Until he felt the same feelings she'd brought out in him before, so long ago.

He walked over to the bed and crouched in front of her. For a long moment, he didn't even know what to say. She looked down at him, and her eyebrows went up. "What?"

He shook his head, and brushed his fingers through a lock of her hair that had fallen forward. "I forgot," he said softly. "I forgot what it feels like to be with you."

She smiled then, her face softening. "It's been a long time, but it also feels like yesterday."

He nodded. "I'm sorry I left."

Her smile faded. "I'm sorry that you turned into a murderous werewolf."

He couldn't help the laughter that burst from him at her remark. "Yeah, well, I'm sorry about that too." He nodded at her arm. "Let's take care of your wound."

"Yes, I think it needs some attention." She immediately began to shrug off his jacket, wincing when the heavy leather slid down her arm. He helped her get it off, viscerally aware that she was wearing only a thin tank top beneath it. The curve of her breasts and the dark shadows of her nipples were easily visible, and desire surged through him.

Swearing, he shoved his lust aside, instead taking her arm to inspect it. His job wasn't to seduce her. His job was to take care of his best friend, and he needed to focus on that. The fact that he couldn't stop thinking of her as a woman was his problem, not hers. He let out his breath and examined the injury. The wound was crusted with blood, but he didn't think it was too deep. "I need to clean it."

"Okay." She made no noise of protest as he began to work on it, her only sign of pain was the way she was biting her lower lip. "What's it like?" she asked. "Being a shifter? Do you..." Her gaze slipped to his. "Do you have trouble controlling it?"

He thought of the hell he went through at first. He hated what he'd been, and he didn't want her to look at him and see who he really was. He knew she'd never sit there on the bed, locking herself in his cabin with him if she knew the truth. His life had become so dark and gritty. She was too untainted for it, and he needed her to stay the way she was. She made him feel like he could breathe again, like he could pull himself away from the darkness of his life and see sunshine, even if just for a moment.

"Cash." Her voice was soft. "Tell me."

He ground his jaw, focusing on her injury. "You won't look at me the same way," he said quietly. "You're going to see a monster." He finished cleaning the wound and began to wrap it, his fingers moving deftly after all the wounds he'd had to wrap on himself over the years. "I can't handle it if you look at me like I'm a monster," he admitted. "Anyone but you."

"Cash." She touched his cheek with her free hand, and he looked up at her. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the softness in her eyes. "I'll see you. I always have. I want to know what you've endured. You've always let me carry some of your burden. Let me do it again."

He let out his breath and said nothing as he finished her arm. He wouldn't even know where to start. The only bright spot in his life was the period of time when they'd been friends so long ago. Since then, everything had just been an endless, relentless cycle of darkness, a world she didn't belong in.

She said nothing, watching him as he packed up the supplies. He set them on the counter in his kitchenette, and then turned to face her, resting his hands on the counter behind him. He didn't want her to know, but at the same time, he did. Bryn was the only one in his life who knew him before, the one person who saw him as a human being. He and Drake were tight, but they knew each other as the monsters they currently were. Somehow, he felt that if Bryn could see what he'd become, yet still see his humanity, then maybe it was still a part of him.

"When it first happened, I had no control," he finally said. It was the truth, but superficially so. There were no words to describe the depths of what it had been like to lose control of his body, his mind, his urges. "Every time I felt threatened, I shifted. I hunted when I was in wolf form. I became an animal."

She sighed in empathy, not fear. "Did you kill people? Hunt them?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. At the beginning, I didn't always have full recollection when I returned to human form. I saw news reports that confirmed my flashes of memories, though. People who had been...attacked."

She didn't look away from him. She just sat quietly, watching him, listening.

He ran his hand through his hair. "Drake and I were attacked and almost killed when we accidentally crossed into the pack's territory the first time. Young males weren't welcome. But Jace was there, and he stopped the others from killing us." He looked over at her. "He saved me, Bryn. He taught us how to control our wolves. He taught us how to become skilled fighters, not mindless killers. If we'd been a part of the pack from the start, we never would have gone through the hell we did when we were teens, but at least Jace taught us how to bring it back under control. I still have the urges, but I direct them now to outlets that I choose."

She was staring at him. "You still kill?"

He shook his head. "I haven't killed in years. Jace doesn't allow it, and he teaches all his wolves how to control it." He couldn't believe she was still sitting there, listening to him, showing no signs of fear. A sliver of hope raced through him.

"Jace doesn't believe in killing?" She raised her eyebrows. "That doesn't make sense. I saw him—" She stopped, cutting herself off.

He tensed at her reference to that hellish night. Now that they were safe, he finally had a chance to ask her about it, and hopefully get the information he needed so desperately to clear his pack leader. "What exactly did you see?" He walked over and crouched in front of her again, searching her face. "Tell me what happened that night."

Anguish filled her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it—"

Protectiveness surged through him, fury that she'd been a part of such a horror. He'd seen it once, a werewolf in a killing frenzy, and it was horrifying. "I'm so sorry, Bryn, but I need to understand what happened that night." He lightly rested his hands on her knees and squeezed. "They can't get you. You're safe here." He didn't remind her that she was sitting in the lair of a werewolf. He could control himself. She was in no danger from him. She would
never
be in danger from him.

"What about Thursday? What about when I go to court to testify?" She looked at him. "Are you going to try to keep me from testifying against him? I saw him kill a woman, Cash. How can you let that go?"

He closed his eyes at her question, knowing she was right. If Jace was guilty, he had to pay for it. But
fuck
, he couldn't be guilty. Cash wouldn't let himself even consider the possibility. There had to be something he didn't know, something that Bryn could tell him that would make it all make sense. "Bryn, please, I need to know what happened."

"You didn't answer me. Are you going to let me testify?"

He opened his eyes. "I can't let an innocent man go to prison."

Betrayal filled her eyes. "You don't believe me?"

"I believe you're telling me the truth as you saw it, but I want to know what you don't remember seeing. Was there anyone else there?" he asked quietly. "Anyone standing in the shadows, silent, still, but present?"

"No—" She cut herself off suddenly, staring at him.

His fingers tightened on her knees. "What did you just remember?" His heart froze in his chest, hoping, desperately hoping that she was going to tell him what he wanted to hear, what he knew had to be the truth, what only she would know.

"There was someone in the shadows," she said softly. "In a doorway across the street. I barely noticed him because I was watching Jace shift. But now that you mention it, I remember seeing him there, just standing quietly. I was afraid to scream, afraid that I would be next if Jace saw me, so I just melted back into the shadows and froze. The man across the way didn't move either." She ran her hand through her hair. "I forgot about him," she said, confusion in her voice. "I completely forgot about him until now. How could that happen?"

"Some werewolves have a certain level of telepathic power." He tried to keep his voice casual, when his instincts were screaming that she'd just given him the information he'd been searching for. "Did you see his face at all?"

She ran her hands through her hair, thinking. "He was tall. Broad shoulders. Wearing some sort of trench coat."

That could have been anyone. "Anything else? Anything unusual about how he looked?"

She shivered suddenly, and looked at him. "He turned his head once, and the light from the street lights fell across his face. He had a scar on his cheek, a brutal, horrible scar."

Cash bowed his head as relief surged though him so powerfully it almost knocked him down. Silently, he pulled out his phone and scrolled to a picture of Damien, the wolf who had been leading the assassination attempt on Bryn, the one who was Jace's second in command. He held it up. "Him?"

Her face paled, and she grabbed the phone, studying the picture. "Same scar," she said. "I didn't see his eyes, but the scar is the same." She looked up. "Who is it?"

"Damien." Cash stood up, flexing his legs.

Her face paled. "He was there? But he didn't stop Jace."

"No, he didn't. Just like he didn't stop the wolves from killing the police officers protecting you." Cash strode across the room again, and braced his hands on his kitchenette counter, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. "He was there when wolves killed both times, Bryn. Those wolves would never kill anyone, except to save their own lives. Each one had willingly given an oath not to kill. Damien was there, representing a leader who would give his own life to protect an innocent from his wolves. Despite all that, they still killed, and Damien didn't even try to stop them." He turned back. "Do you understand what that means?"

She looked down at the phone again, staring at Damien's image. "You think he made them do it somehow? With mental telepathy? But how would he control so many powerful predators?"

"I don't know, but he's doing it." Cash ran his hand through his hair. The relief he felt was almost overwhelming. "It's not Jace's fault," he said softly. "He didn't do it." He looked up. "Do you understand? He didn't do it."

Bryn set his phone down. "Jace did do it," she said quietly. "There's no way to prove that Damien made him do it. Even if I testify that Damien was present, it doesn't exonerate Jace."