Heart Of The Wolf (8 page)

Christ, his
erection was now painful, blooming under every evil-coated word she
spoke. “That's a lot of faith you're putting in your 'insider'. And
I'm putting a lot of faith in you. Wolves and Tridents, unless gone
rogue, do not leave the safety of their pack during a full moon –
we're all vulnerable this time of the month. I'm risking my pack by
going in there tonight. I'm assuming your insider is a wolf? I
wouldn't trust a wolf to turn on their own kind.”

Was that a
smile on the woman? Looked odd. “
She
, Gabriel. My insider is
a she-wolf, and she reminds me very much of myself when I was her
age, too long ago to matter now. She will go through with her task,
don't you worry about that.”

“How can you
be so sure?”

Her stare
became glazed and distant. “Because when you don't want to die, and
you're faced with only one way to live, you take it.”

~*~

Lawrence swung
open the door to his study, then stilled when he caught sight of
Lydia asleep in his chair. Wearing his shirt.

He brought the
door shut silently, then hesitated, not sure whether to stay in one
spot, head towards her, or leave the room.

Instead, he
ended up just gazing at her and trying to ignore the way his chest
felt like it might cave in any second now.

He was kidding
himself. What the fuck did he think he was trying to do? Protect
her? There were only fourteen members of their pack left and Selena
had caught the brunt of that this morning – he couldn't protect
anyone and had no business trying.

Shadows lay
heavy under Lydia's eyes.

He
frowned.

Had she not
been sleeping?

Maybe Ryan's
keeping her awake all night … every night…

He
successfully quashed a growl at that thought, and tentatively made
his way to her, careful not to stand in her light in case his
shadow stirred her awake.

Her breathing
was even and the rise and fall of her breasts through his shirt did
things to him he thought he'd never feel again, and in all honesty,
had never really had the chance to feel before. He'd spent time
with a couple of females in his youth, but they had not been
serious arrangements, his passion for theatre and dance a much
greater commitment than any he could give another. Back then, he
had been secretly glad he hadn't found his mate young.

Elana, his
sister, had found her mate young, even before her adolescence.
Mating, itself, was impossible before puberty kicked in, but once
it had, well, biology took care of the rest. She had been in a
happy union when The Trident had murdered her. They had barged in
one full moon, the numbers in their pack dwindling, looking for the
storm-wielder rumoured to be housed here. Elana's storm-wielding
abilities had not fully started to flourish yet, and in a bid to
protect her daughter, his mother had stepped forward, her fear and
desperation coating the scent of the lie, and stated she was the
wielder.

They'd come
for the wielder and nothing would stop them from taking her. They
killed his father in front of her when he attempted to attack, and
his grandfather, and then they'd targeted her children, killing
Elana's mate first, before dragging both his sister and himself
away from their family's dead bodies, to torture them some more
while they forced his mother to listen. By the time the Tridents
had finally caught on to his mother's lie, Elena was already dead.
They thought he was too. He wished he had been – he had had to
endure hearing what they did to his mother before they finally
ended her life. Even death had its pros.

He placed
himself at the edge of his desk where he had been earlier, noting
the slight discomfort in his residual limbs as he settled into
position – there was always slight discomfort.

Living had its
cons.

Lydia moaned
in her sleep, her eyes twitching under their lids.

Was she
dreaming?

Her breathing
turned ragged, her body shaking as if from fever or fear. Fear? He
sniffed. Yes, fear radiated off her.

He hauled
himself off the desk and leaned over her, thinking he should crouch
or kneel instead so as not to scare her if she woke up, but even
though he
could
crouch (just about), it wasn't the most easy
of positions, and a part of him was feeling bone-tired with the
events of the last few days.

“Lydia,” he
whispered, only half wanting to rouse her.

She whimpered,
and then her chin wobbled and she made a sort of sobbing noise.

Seeing her in
pain, even if only in a dream, hit him square in the gut. He kissed
her forehead, nudging her head deliberately as he did so.
“Lydia.”

Her eyes flew
open as a cry burst from her lips. Her hands came up and found his
face, clamping either side of it with clammy palms.

“It's me! It's
okay … it's me…”
Jesus Christ…

Her eyes were
wide with terror, the blue of them paler than normal, making way
for that gorgeous violet just under the surface. Damn, he could get
lost in her eyes, and that was a complication he really didn't need
right now – there was so much else to get through.

But he
couldn't look away; not when she was so afraid.

“You're safe.
Lydia, you're safe.”

That
ever-present insecurity that lived in him, snaked its way through
his system and peaked.
Is she? Can you really keep her
safe?

She still made
little whimpering sounds, seemingly unable to form words, but it
was her touch on his face that brought him out of his mental
self-flagellation; feathery strokes across his cheekbones, as if
she were somehow soothing him, even though she was the one in
anguish.

He didn't see
the kiss coming.

Her lips
brushed his in an almost tender fashion, like she was afraid he
would break at her touch.

Shocked, he
froze, but he wasn't sure what exactly had shocked him. Her
frightened state? Her gentleness? Her … lovingness?

No – not
that!

His entire
being went on red alert, his chest doing that crushing thing again,
and even though a part of him didn't want to pull away, there went
his shutters, slamming right down over his ruined heart and a
thousand screams he'd never wipe from his memory if he lived a
thousand years.

He pulled
away.

Dazed, she
looked confused, and then embarrassed. What got to him though, was
the hurt. She'd masked it quickly, but he had seen it, and he was
the one who'd just put it there.

That didn't
sit well with him at all, and even less so with his wolf, who
stared daggers at him from inside his head.
What the fuck was
that? You just pushed away your mate.

“I'm sorry,”
Lydia muttered, her entire face beetroot. “I had a bad dream.”

His brow
creased over the scent of … a lie? She was lying to him?

He quenched
the uneasiness that came from that possibility.
She doesn't
trust you.

Can you
blame her?
reprimanded the wolf.
You just denied her
needs.

But, wait …
how could she be lying? He'd witnessed her having the
nightmare…

“Where's
Taylor?”

Oh, well
done, you. She was frightened, needed comfort, you all but told her
to fuck off, and now she's asking for another male. You are the
Best. Mate. Ever.
“Lydia—”

“Where's
Taylor?” she repeated, finality injected into her tone; her own
eyes, usually so expressive, now guarded.

It was clear
she didn't want to talk about the dream or her reaction to it. It
bothered him more than he'd like.
Welcome to the other side of
the fence.

“He's gone
back to Selena's house with her—Ryan's there too,” he added
quickly. “She was attacked by her own brother this morning.
Unfortunately, the full moon, plus a lack of females to go around,
can lead to … all kinds of rivalry between males.”

She raised her
eyebrows, briefly, as she took in that information, and then
dropped them again, frowning in concern. “That's a shitty thing to
happen, and I'm sorry she had to go through it … but I don't trust
her, Lawrence. I don't like her around Taylor – he's good natured,
kind; maybe more easily taken advantage of because of it, and
there's no bloody way she's not thought about having him. I can
tell – women know these things about each other. I don't want her
around him.”

Hell, she was
suited to the Alpha female role, because that was stated bluntly,
possessively, and, quite simply, as if she expected all to comply.
He hid a smile. “He's only dropping her off; offering visible
protection from the other males on the walk back through the woods.
She didn't want to go back – was hoping to stay here I think, which
is simply not an option with your first change due. I've asked
Taylor to get back ASAP for the police, and also for you. You
should have a male around you at all times at the moment. Ryan will
handle the situation and join us as soon as he's done.”

She didn't
look convinced, and he didn't miss her bristle at the mention of
needing a male around, but thank fuck, she let that aspect go for
now. He didn't want to go chasing after a rebelling Lydia every
half an hour to make sure she was in a physiologically balanced
state. The moon took no prisoners, and he had too much else to
organise.

“There's a
desperation about her, Lawrence – I know it because I felt it last
month myself. I don't
trust
her.”

“That
desperation is the burden of being an unmated female in her
twenties. I wish it were different for her – for all of you – but
there's nothing she can do, and you have nothing to worry about.
Taylor's mated to you
and
bonded to you, as am I, and Ryan.
Nothing's taking that away – it isn't possible.” That sense of
panic he always felt when thinking of her as his mate rose sharply
within him, but almost as quickly, her visible calming over his
words, dulled the anxiety. He wanted to make her happy. That
realisation was a mix of freeing and … bat-shit scary. He
wanted
to be her mate – a good one that didn't fuck up at it
every two seconds.

Better let
her in then, hadn't you
, voiced his wolf, still pissed off that
he'd rejected her earlier affections.

Instead, he
stood there awkwardly. Let her in, how? He was pretty damn sure
there was nothing about him she'd want to know, and it was obvious
his … affliction … bothered her. Of course it fucking did – her
friend had just been mutilated in the same way
because
of
it. Because of him. It was a wonder she could stand to be in the
same room as him. The way she'd been staring at his legs
earlier…

She stared at
him now, at his face, with eyes that still held him at arm's
length. It made him feel crappier than crap. Let her in – right:
Welcome, madam, to the guest house of pain. Once you enter, you
can't leave – you'll be here for the rest of your life. We hope you
enjoy your stay … add smiley face.

She broke
through both the silence and his festering thoughts. “I'm gonna go
freshen up.”

“All
right.”

“When will the
police be here?”

“In an hour.
We're all meeting in the front reception room.”

“Right. I'll
see you then.” She walked around him, opened the door and walked
out.

And still he
didn't move. Just stood there like an idiot when the door swung
back shut; the sharp click of it – for the first time in twenty
years – the last thing he wanted to hear.

Chapter Four

Maybe the full
moon influenced her anger, the way it had influenced Stephen
forcing himself on her. That, and all the mess they now found
themselves in because of Lydia.

Because of
you
, betrayed her inner-voice, which she had no doubt belonged
to her wolf. It wasn't like they could shut the animal in them out,
even when the moon was absent from the sky. Why didn't her wolf get
it? That female was going to destroy them all. Selena was trying to
protect
the pack. She
loved
her pack, which was in
itself a bit of a small miracle, because her father was silent
within it, and Stephen had always resented his inability to best
the other males. Ryan had appeared on the scene when Stephen had
been fourteen years old, and Selena twelve, and from that moment,
she had witnessed Stephen's competitive streak twist him into a
wolf that always carried a bitterness with him – a jealousy that
had always been palpable to her, although he had hidden it well
until recent months.

She had to
wonder if the jealous streak was hereditary. She had never thought
of herself as competitive until a beaten, almost dead Taylor had
been brought in nine months ago. She had heard of 'love' among the
human population, even though wolves never mentioned it. It wasn't
a thing they thought about, or a concept they dwelled on, because
their biology denied it. And the word itself had never entered her
system until she had seen him, his arms draped over both Ryan and
Lawrence as they dragged him into the mansion, unconscious. She had
seen his face and stalled at it; so smooth, so soft … how could
someone so seemingly tender become one of them?

And then, she
had seen his woman, Sarah, stumbling out of the van after them,
pulled along by Ryan's one free hand, babbling incoherently and on
the verge of a breakdown. But even in her crazed state, she had
rushed towards Taylor and placed her dainty palm on the small of
his back, as if that was somehow enough to save him, and Selena had
gotten it for the first time ever: this thing that people called
love – they believed it could move mountains. She didn't have that
kind of belief in anything, and she sure as shit didn't have love –
would
never
have it – and yet it was accessible to humans
whenever they wished. That was the first moment she had known true
jealousy.