The Wolf Fount (9 page)

T
hat evening, sitting at the west bar and watching Calhoun serve drinks, Morgan wondered if things were really as simple as he’d made them sound earlier.

People didn’t just blindly accept each other. That was a fact of life she knew well. Yet, he appeared to have completely accepted her—bad temper, criminal record, and all.

“I see the boss is doing his working man impersonation.” Jake, the manager, sat down beside her.

Morgan looked at him. Jake wasn’t much taller than she was, with sandy brown hair and dark blue eyes. He was fit, but not as impressively built as Calhoun. Driven by the sudden urge to find out whether or not Calhoun’s earlier statements were true, she said, “I’m sorry I hit you, and for calling you an asshole.”

“Already forgotten. This is a confusing time and shit happens.” He smiled. “Need a refill?”

“Sure, thanks.” She watched as he signaled another bartender, because Calhoun was busy with a drink order. “He looks like he’s having fun.”

“He is. He calls doing it a reality check. Being our Big Kahuna, he’s got all the responsibilities and the headaches that go with them. Pretending to be a cog in the wheel reminds him that he’s a person too, not just the First.”

She arched an eyebrow while their fresh drinks were delivered. “Does he not know how to delegate?”

“Absolutely. One person can’t run what amounts to an entirely different government and society all by himself. But Cal’s the king.” Jake took a drink. “You intending on sitting here all night, watching him work, or do you feel like dancing?”

A combination of restlessness and boundless energy had caused her to fidget too much the past hour. “Sure.”

“Boss,” Jake called out. “I’m taking the lady out for a few spins around the floor.”

Calhoun nodded, lifting one hand to wave while the other poured vodka. He didn’t even look their way. “Have fun, kids.”

The casualness of his response struck Morgan like a jab from a red hot poker. It felt too at odds with the intent attention he’d been giving her until now. Letting Jake lead her to the dancefloor, she tried to ignore the sting of hurt.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She slung her arms around Jake’s neck. He put his hands on her hips, looking into her eyes.

“Sugar pie, I’ve been around for a long, long time. Nothing never means nothing.”

“How about nothing I feel like sharing?” she snapped, eyes narrowing.

“Fair enough. You change your mind, let me know.”

Jake proved a competent dance partner, though he preserved a few inches of space between their bodies at all times. His eyes didn’t spark gold at any point either. As they moved around the dancefloor, his low-voiced comments about various people swung between informative and funny.

After a few songs, she excused herself to the ladies’, and agreed to meet him back at the bar for a cold one. While in the stall, Morgan heard familiar voices. “I wouldn’t dump Cal for Jake. Maybe she sucks in bed, because Cal doesn’t seem to care what she’s doing.”

Hello, Patty
. Morgan wasn’t aware of the feral grin that stretched her lips for a few seconds as the blonde’s friends agreed with her assessment of the situation. She finished peeing, flushed, and after yanking her pants back in place, left the stall. Crossing the space, Morgan parked herself at the sink right next to the one Patty was holding court at.

The blonde flushed pink as Morgan bared her teeth in a fake smile while washing her hands. After drying them, she turned and moved to stand in front of the other woman. “This is where your nosiness ends, or we’re going to have a problem. I moved in this morning.”

“Bullshit you moved in.”

“Why don’t you walk right out there and ask him?”

“Maybe I will.” Patty stared back.

“Go ahead.” With a shrug, Morgan left the restroom and began threading her way back to the west bar. Her hurt had turned to anger, and with each step, that anger flared hotter. A small, quiet part of her wondered what the problem was. Calhoun hadn’t promised anything but a job and a place to always belong.

Nothing about a relationship, which was fine, since she wasn’t good at the romantic kind.
I don’t get attached. Don’t fall in love. That shit is for the weak
.

Spotting Jake, she bee-lined to him and growled into his ear. “Wanna fuck?”

“Well now,” he turned to look at her. “I appreciate the invitation, but...”

“Fuck you then. I’ll...” She spun away, but he caught hold of her arm and called for Calhoun as she turned back to him with a snarl.

“Boss!”

“What, Jake?”

“The lady’s not feeling well.” Jake kept hold of her as Morgan tried to yank free.

She sneered, meeting Calhoun’s eyes as he halted on the other side of the bar. “I’m fine. Let go, or so help me...”

“No, you’re not. You’re hitting the last stage, Morgan.” Calhoun leaned over the bar top and pressed the back of his fingers to her cheek. His fingers felt cold. “Burning up. Let me take you upstairs.”

“I don’t want to go upstairs.” She pulled against Jake’s hold again, this time forcing him to stand or be dragged off his bar stool. He held on and Calhoun hopped over the bar behind her.

Before Morgan could protest, she was over Calhoun’s shoulder, and heading for the stairs. “Put me down.”

He spoke in a soothing tone. “I’m going to help you. You need quiet right now, not loud music and a crowd. I’ll stay with you until it’s finished.”

“I want,” she hesitated, uncertain what she’d been about to say as he strode upstairs. Dizziness hit. “I’m going to be sick.”

“That will go away in a few seconds.” He opened the door of his suite. “Let’s take a nice, cool bath.”

M
organ mumbled, her face slack and eyes unfocused. Cal smoothed her hair back and put a glass of water to her lips. “Take a sip, darlin’.”

From the door, Sebastian asked, “Why is it taking so long for her?”

He put the glass back on the nightstand and looked at his nephew. Twenty-four hours was the normal length of time for the final stage of Awakening. They were at hour thirty-two and counting. “I don’t know.”

Cal looked at her again, noting how dull the green of her eyes had become, and the fact that the gold ring was quiescent around her pupils. He checked her temperature. Her skin was dry and papery feeling under his palm and she was still too hot.

Sebastian left the doorway. “How is she?”

“No change.” Morgan had been in this state for over twenty-seven hours.

“You look awful, uncle.”

“Thanks.” Cal stretched and scrubbed a hand over his cheeks, feeling the stubble.

“I’ll sit with her. Go take a shower and shave,” his nephew ordered. Longing for a short break, Cal was hesitant to leave Morgan even in his beloved nephew’s care. Sebastian touched his shoulder. “I’ll call the instant anything changes.”

“All right.” Rising, Cal almost tripped over his own feet from weariness.

“You’re sleeping when you’re done. I’ll stay and wake you if there’s a reason to.”

With a nod and exhausted smile for his nephew’s offer, Cal entered the bathroom. His mind flipped through memories while he showered, but he couldn’t remember another Were suffering the final stage for so long. Not even back in at the beginning, with his own Awakening.

“No change,” Sebastian informed him as he left the bathroom.

“This isn’t normal.”

“No, but that doesn’t negate the fact you need rest.” Sebastian pointed at the bed. “Sleep, uncle.”

Cal obeyed, crawling under the covers to lie next to Morgan. She muttered again, her eyes sliding closed, only to open again a breath later. He hated to admit it, even privately, but there wasn’t a damned thing he could do for her.

Except one. He scooted closer, ignoring his watching nephew, and held her.

“W
here the hell am I?” Morgan stared at the surrounding greenery, her skin itching under the burn of unseen eyes. “Hello?”

No one responded. She turned in a slow circle, trying to remember how long she’d been here. Days? Weeks? Unable to pick out any shapes in the shadows, she said, “This isn’t funny. I’m really getting pissed now, Calhoun.”

The last thing she remembered was complaining to him about how hot she was. Everything had gone dark and she’d awakened to find herself here. Or in the general vicinity of “here,” as she’d been walking around since. Her skin had been crawling the entire time, thanks to her unseen watchers.

Something hit her from behind, sending Morgan sprawling to her hands and knees. She screamed as her attacker dug into her. Skin, muscles, and bones parted under its claws.

And then it was gone. Morgan sobbed, reaching to touch her lower back, expecting a raw ruin. Her skin was smooth and untouched. No blood showed on her shaking fingers when she checked them.

Morgan began to rise, only to go down again as a second invisible attacker struck. Pushed into the dirt, she screamed and kept screaming as the thing dug into her back until she was certain she was dying.

Then it was gone.

Lying there, wondering what was happening, she couldn’t find the strength to rise. Had Calhoun dumped her here after she’d passed out? If he had, then whatever the things were, they’d have left real marks, and she’d be dead.

Maybe it’s a nightmare
. But if it was, why did everything smell real, and how could she hurt so much?

A third weight landed on her back, driving the air from her lungs. Long fangs pierced the sides of her neck, and Morgan couldn’t scream, even when the thing began scrabbling at her back. Tears ran from her eyes as she squeezed them shut.
This is it
.

But the new attacker disappeared after a few seconds too, leaving her tasting blood.

Calhoun had said he’d help her. Where was he? Blood bubbled in Morgan’s throat. “Help. Help me.”

That’s when the fourth thing attacked.

“H
elp.” It was a whisper just before a fourth convulsion almost forced Morgan’s body out of his arms. Teeth gritted, Cal held onto her, trying to hold the warm acceptance he’d been weaving around her. Something was keeping him from getting inside Morgan’s head and taking the pain she was feeling upon himself. “I’m right here.”

The convulsion ended, leaving her still. He couldn’t hear her heartbeat and she wasn’t breathing. “Oh, come on. No one’s died from this, Morgan. Don’t you be the first.”

Her head lolled on his arm and Cal squeezed until her ribs creaked. “Morgan, damn you, breathe.”

No response. Cal snarled and squeezed again. “I said breathe, you cantankerous bitch.”

She went from limp to wild, gasping for air and her eyes opening wide. He winced as her forearm smacked him in the face. “It’s over. You’re done, and safe.”

Morgan froze, her eyes darting around the room before settling on his face. She stared for a long, silent moment and then smiled. “There you are.”

“Yes. I told you I’d stay.”

She went from smiling to glaring. “It fucking hurt, Calhoun.”

“I’m sorry.” He hefted her into sitting position and kissed the top of her head.

Morgan was still glaring when she tilted her head back to look at him. “Did you call me a bitch?”

Cal laughed, hugging her closer. “I did, and my apologies. Heat of the moment. I was worried.”

She dialed her glare down a few notches before closing her eyes and resting her head against his shoulder. “I’m tired. Is it really over?”

“Yes. All over but your first change, and that can wait.” Relieved as hell, Cal kept holding her until she fell asleep.