Jared (River Pack Wolves 3) - New Adult Paranormal Romance (7 page)

He took a step back and set his face to seriousness. He could see the disappointment draw down her body.

“I saw you shift before,” he said. “Your wolf is unique.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Unique how?” She seemed genuinely to have no idea, but she was open and curious about it. That was a good start.

“I’ve never seen a white wolf before,” he explained.

“Really?” She scrunched up her face, and it brought out that innocence again. “Your wolf was black, right? Or dark brown? It was hard to tell in the moonlight.”

“Something like that. Most wolves are somewhere on the spectrum of brown to black to gray. Occasionally red. I’ve heard of white wolves, but they’re rare.”

She spread her arms wide with a wicked grin on her face. “My wolf must be
extra
magical and special.” There was a laugh in her voice.

“I didn’t say that.” But it almost wrenched a smile out of him. It was painful, so he stopped. “Go ahead and shift. We’ll run together.”

“Where will we run? I mean, I’m not going to be able to talk to you once I shift, so… what’s the plan?”

He couldn’t help the tiny grin that snuck onto his face. “Just shift, and you’ll see.”

She scowled at him, but it was playful, then she stepped back, dropped her arms, and shifted into the brilliant white wolf he had seen the night before. Her clothes lay in a heap next to her. He shifted, leaving his clothes behind as well, and padded toward her. She was small and delicate-boned even as a wolf. Her paws were so tiny, he could cover two of hers with one of his. He trotted until he was nose to nose with her, and for a moment, he was captured by her brilliant blue eyes. The shadows of the trees drew into the meadow like black daggers, but her eyes sparkled in the waning sunlight.

He dropped his muzzle down to hers, and lightly touched the tip, giving her a gentle wolfish kiss. A tremor traveled the length of her body, bristling out her white fur. A spike in her arousal cut through the crisp, cooling smell of the forest.

He jerked back. What was he doing?

He shook his head to clear it. Then he linked a thought to her.
In wolf form, we don’t need to speak out loud.

She jumped back and violently shook all over, as if she could fling the thoughts right out. He sat down in the grass, holding still again and waiting for her to regain her composure.

What in the—how can you—what was that?
Her thoughts were a whirl.

I can only link a thought to you across a certain distance,
he thought.
Run to the far side of the meadow.
See if you can hear me from there.

She stood stiffly and stared at him, blinking once, twice. Then she took off. His wolf wanted to charge after her, perhaps tackle her and pin her, playfully of course. Maybe not so playful after that.

He stayed where he was.

Can you hear me?
she thought, pausing and throwing a look back. She was only halfway across.

Keep going.

She darted off again and reached the edge of the forest in no time. His heart lurched when it appeared she might plunge into the darkened trees without him…

Grace! Don’t go into the trees.
He sent the command her way, but she was out of range.

She stopped anyway, then turned and looked back at him. The mere idea of her disappearing into the forest without him had him pounding hard across the meadow. At the same time, she turned to lope back toward him.

So damn sexy, I wonder if—
He heard the exact moment when she came back into range.

So you think I’m sexy, huh?
he replied, panting as he ran.

She screeched to a halt and dipped her head, not meeting his gaze.
Shit! This thought reading thing… how do I turn it off?

His wolf barked a huffy kind of laugh—it felt strange and wheezy in his chest, like cobwebs were clearing out.

She looked up, a pained expression on her face.
It’s possible I’m going to die of embarrassment.

He wheezed the barking laugh to a standstill, then trotted up to where she had stopped, stiff-legged in the middle of the meadow.
Don’t worry. You’ll learn to control it. I don’t want to hear most of the things my brothers think, so I generally tune them out. But there are times that it’s important or necessary, like on a mission. And it can be… enjoyable, like when I’m with my mate…
His own thoughts short-circuited with that idea. Those days with Avery—they were like a dream that happened and then died. She had been slender and beautiful, like Grace, only Avery was an alpha female. She knew who she was and what she wanted, and when they linked thoughts while they made love—

No!
He physically shook his head and stumbled back until he nearly fell. Thinking about Avery was a dark hole that would swallow him.

Grace had recoiled from his shouted thought.

He blinked at her, flummoxed about what thought to send next.

He has a mate? Is that why… I should have known… Of course…
Her thoughts were a jumble.

My mate is dead.
The thought seemed to freeze both of them in a timeless moment. It stretched until he couldn’t bear it any longer. He forced his body to unlock and turn away. He ran across the field toward his clothes.

This was a bad idea. He couldn’t do this. The unsteady feeling had him nearly tripping on his way, desperate in his need to get back to his clothes, shift human, take her home, walk away, and… come back later tonight and simply end it. Kill the Senator. Go to jail. Stop all of it.

Stop coming apart at the seams.

He heard her paws in the grass, trying to keep up with him. He had worked up to a full sprint without realizing it. He didn’t slow down. When he reached his clothes, he shifted. He clenched his fists to work out the shakes, then struggled at getting his clothes on, keeping his head down as he did.

Grace shifted human next to him, but he didn’t look. Couldn’t look at her anymore. Needed to get away. Get her home then…

She touched his arm.

He jerked back, one leg in his pants, one out, half stumbling.

She pulled back and gathered her hair around her nakedness, caving her body in to cover the parts that spoke to his wolf.

Her voice was a pained whisper. “I’m sorry, Jared. I didn’t know.”

It was the soft concern on her face that undid him. The gentleness, the expression full of empathy, echoing feelings he couldn’t hold in his chest without being destroyed by them… she gathered them up and held them in her own, just by being near him. By spending a moment in his thoughts.

He ducked his head. “Not your fault. It’s mine.” It was
all
his fault, even now. He finished pulling on his pants, roughly tugging them in place. He didn’t look at her. He wanted her to stay away.

She came closer.

He could see her bare feet in the grass.

Then she touched him again, a whisper of softness against his arm. The melting feeling was back, and he couldn’t move, as if liquid cement had trickled through his body and glued him in place. Slowly, very slowly, he raised his gaze to her brilliant blue eyes.

“Why did you really come back?” she asked, softly. Gentle as the breeze kissing the grass and bending the stalks. She searched his face with those eyes, then gave him a bashful smile. “I had this silly hope that maybe you came back for
me.
That maybe I’d be getting my first kiss from a shifter—”

“You don’t want me as your first for anything.” The cold was seeping back into his bones. Freezing him tight. Sealing up the seams. “I’m a bad man, Grace. I’ve killed people.”

She frowned but didn’t pull away. “You’re military, aren’t you?”

He squinted to see her better, backdropped by the rising moon. Did she know who he was? “Ex-Marine. Sharp-shooter.”

She nodded. “Fighting for your country doesn’t make you bad.”

“Sometimes it does.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

She frowned again, but this time like he was a puzzle. “You came back because you wanted something. What is it?”

He pulled away from her. “You know about your father’s shifter legislation, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“Do you understand what it means? What it will do to shifters everywhere?”

She scowled and caved in more on herself, wrapping her arms in front of her chest. “I know it’s bad. I’ve fought him on it. There’s nothing I can do.”

He gritted his teeth and scooped his shirt off the ground. “Fight harder. People’s lives are at risk.”

Her arms dropped to her sides, fists clenched. “Don’t you think I’ve tried?
I’m
a shifter, too. You know, in case you haven’t noticed. It’s going to kill everything I’ve worked for.”

He glared at her. “Then stop him.”

“I can’t!” Her lips pouted, and she suddenly looked young to him. Too young to really understand how much would be lost in this.

He stepped back further. “Then we’re done here. Get your clothes.”

She growled and spun around to stomp after her clothes buried in the grass. He watched as she tugged on her silky blouse and narrow skirt. They had ditched her fancy, politician’s daughter shoes before they snuck out of the house. When she was done dressing, she stomped off toward the trees, on her way back to the estate.

He hesitated, but only for a moment, then he jogged after her. The icy chill inside him was stitching him back together again. He should escort her back to the house, return to his perch, and end this thing tonight. But as she picked her way through the brambles, cursing at the branches as they tugged at her clothes, he knew—he wasn’t killing her father. Not tonight. Not until he had done everything he could to win her over.

And he’d done a really shitty job of that so far.

She stopped at the edge of the forest, still out of sight of anyone happening to glance their way from the estate. Only then did he see the tracks of tears glistening on her cheeks. It gave him that loose feeling again, like the world was tipping.

She turned to him, eyes glassy and angry. “We have a week.”

“A week. What happens in a week?”

“In a week, my father announces his run for re-election on a platform of requiring shifters to register on the grounds of public safety. He’s going to criminalize every last one of you.”

“Every last one of
us.”
He held her gaze.

“Every last one of
you,”
she said, harshly.
“Me,
he will disown and kick out on the streets.”

“You’re his daughter,” he said softly. “If you tell him—”

“He hates you! Loathes you with every fiber of his being. Trust me, when he finds out, it will be
far
easier for him to get rid of a daughter than to abandon his Senate seat.”

A growl rumbled in his chest. “How could any man do that to his daughter?”

But her shoulders just dropped, and she gave a forlorn look at the house.

It tore at him. “Tell him,” Jared said softly. “You might be surprised.”

She just shook her head.

Then something occurred to him. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t see it before. “He must have loved a shifter once,” he said, very gently.

She frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

“He has
you.”
Jared nodded. This had to be the answer.

“I told you, it won’t matter. He’s too stubborn.”

“But he’s not a shifter himself, right?” he prompted.

She leaned back and gave him a look like he was crazy. “Well, that would be pretty odd, don’t you think?”

“Stranger things have happened.” He waited for her to figure it out, but she was shaking her head, dazed. “If you are a shifter, and your father is not, then…”

Her eyes widened. “What are you saying?”

He huffed a laugh. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

But her eyes just got wider. “My mother was
not
a shifter.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,
I’m sure.” Her eyes were tearing up again.

“Well,
one
of your parents is.”

Her mouth fell open, and all the color drained from her face as she stared at the house. “Please tell me…” She looked back at him, stricken. “Please tell me there’s some kind of recessive gene. Some way I could get some of it from both of them, but not have either one of them actually, you know, be a wolf.”

He frowned, finally figuring out why this was freaking her out—
she might not be the Senator’s daughter after all.
“Grace, it’s not a recessive trait. I… I wish I could tell you differently. You can be half wolf and still be able to shift, but anything less than that… at least one of your parents is a full shifter. “

She stared at the house again. “One week.” Then she turned back to him. “We have one week to stop this.”

He nodded and followed her determined stride back to the house.

Grace was wearing her typical, trim business attire. Her hair was neatly bound up, her silk blouse was tucked into her slim skirt, and her three-inch heels made her tall enough to look Jared, her new bodyguard, in the eyes. Only she hadn’t been able to look him in the face since he picked her up this morning from the estate.

Everything in her life was unraveling.