This Weakness For You (Entangled Select Otherworld) (Taming the Pack) (3 page)

“It’s gone,” Garret said.

“What’s gone?”

“Everything.”

Inhaling and exhaling through his nose, he sought for the patience that had deserted him and left behind the scent of forever and Christa, and he clenched his fists and fought the change. Again. “
What
is gone?”

“I was going to set up a meeting with you and the poacher, but he’s pulled up stakes and left the forum entirely. There’s nothing here to show they even existed. It’s all gone.”

“Maybe you spooked him.”

“How? By reading his words? By being on there? I hadn’t done anything yet.”

“Maybe he thought he’d been found out.”

He could hear Garret shrug. “Or…” It hung in the air between them. Garret was older and sought dominance in their exchanges, but an Alpha didn’t repeat statements for clarification.

He waited. And gritted his teeth.

Garret sighed. “Or maybe someone else took him up on the offer. You should watch your back.”

“They’d need to get my pack at a disadvantage. That won’t happen.”

“You’re not immortal, Jordan.”

“Yes, well, only the good die young, so I’m as good as immortal. This is only a setback. The poacher might have moved to another forum.”

“What do you want me to do?” Then the air hissed through his teeth. “If I feel like doing it, I mean.” Unintentional but instinctual deference to their youngest brother had always pissed off his siblings.

“Watch other forums. And keep in touch.”

Snorting, his brother said, “Oh, the Hills are tight.”

There was a lull in the conversation, and he had the strangest desire to tell his brother about Christa and get his advice.

“So, that’s it then?” his brother asked, shuffling his feet back and forth. He cleared his throat.

Sometimes, even their deference pissed Jordan off, because it drew attention to the rift between them.

“Unless you want to come stay with me for a while.” Where had that come from? Had he just said that?

“Why?”

“You seem concerned.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay.”

“If I was…it would be for your pack. They’ve got a fool at their head who got locked out of his house naked dozens of times on full moons.”

“
You
locked me out.”

There was a smile in Garret’s voice as he said, “I’d do it again if I was staying with you. Every night. You’d be wandering around bare-assed constantly.”

“Yes, well, you fail to consider that I’m even more impressive naked these days than clothed.”

“I’ll think about it.” He coughed. “Staying with you, I mean…not your…”

And he slammed the phone down as Jordan laughed.

…

Four days later, Jordan called Vanessa on her cell phone. He’d heard she was out of the hospital.

“Why does she sleep all the time?” he asked when Vanessa answered. He’d tried not to care—tried not to notice. And once he knew why Christa slept all the time, he could go back to not caring and not noticing, in theory.

“
She
is tired because Nathanial has his days and nights messed up.”

“That’s why Christa is sleeping so much? You’re having her take care of your child?”

“Oh, no. Not her.” Her voice picked up a note of sarcasm. “Gee, I thought you were calling to ask about me…and about your newest pack member. Can’t imagine why.”

“Christa is a pack member.” It sounded right coming out of his mouth. Her name sounded good on his tongue. He tipped his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Don’t go there, Jordan. Not again.

“Is she?”

“She’s kin to Dane. We’ve taken in relatives of pack members.”

“Hmm.”

He sighed. “How are you, Nessa? How is your son?”

“We’re great, just tired. Eventually he’s got to sleep, right?”

“I have no idea—I was the youngest. Most of my knowledge of kids is from my own childhood, and I’m pretty sure that’s suspect—especially since I tried to spend my entire twelfth year as a wolf. My parents had to homeschool me, and my siblings told everyone I had leprosy.”

“Huh…well, I know who to see for delightful stories about raising children. Okay, I’ll throw you a bone, but then you’re answering a question.”

He didn’t like the sound of that, but didn’t protest because it sounded like she might actually answer his question about Christa.

“Christa has multiple sclerosis—MS. So she has these flare-ups where she gets weak, and her hands and feet don’t work quite right, and she’s exhausted. She also keeps getting dizzy. I guess stress with her roommate triggered this one, but she said it feels like she’s pulling out of it.”

“So, it’s like a disease?” His heart clenched tight, like he was having a heart attack. He’d assumed she was sick with something like a flu.

“Yep.”

“Like…fatal?” Now his breathing was shallow and difficult. What the hell was the matter with him? He licked his lips, but his mouth was dry as a desert. She had to be okay.

“I guess eventually, but not anytime soon, probably. Dane said it’ll probably get harder for her to walk at some point, and she’ll be in a wheelchair, but she seems fine when she isn’t having one of these flare-ups.”

The tightness of his chest lessened and he sucked in a deep breath. So, she was frail. Another reason they shouldn’t be together. It still couldn’t beat the big, red, bolded reason: Dane.

To be scent-matched to the sister of the man who’d killed the last female he’d scent-matched to—a man he’d tried to kill, twice—was a cruel joke from the universe. Not that he blamed Dane for killing Sammy. She’d already killed two fellow Lycans and was bent on killing Vanessa. He barely knew her—and, well, she’d been psychotic. Killing her had released Jordan from the insane, obsessive nature of the scent-match.

It’d torn him clear through when Sammy died, but he’d been grateful because, hell, he never wanted to feel like that again. He
had
to stay away from Christa. He didn’t want anything in his life that would sting if it was taken from him.

“Okay,” he said finally.

“Now, you tell me, how do you know she’s not sleeping?”

He rubbed his palm against his forehead. Because
he
wasn’t sleeping. Because he moved like a zombie during the day, and at night, he’d mean to go on patrol and end up near enough to hear Christa sleeping…and he’d return during the day—to hear Christa sleeping…and usually Nathanial crying too. But Christa was always sleeping. She was Sleeping Beauty.

His wolf side wouldn’t leave her alone. He could control the man, but his primal side felt Christa was his and belonged with him. Any time he shifted, he could count on the wolf running to be near her. Being out of control like this sickened him—weakened him. He was damn grateful the poacher hunt was on hold because he wasn’t sure he could concentrate on vengeance four-footed.

“Please tell me you’re not coming in the house,” Vanessa whispered.

“No! Of course I’m not. I’m not even going on your property…technically.” Barely. He was staying at the very edge. “And I know this because your mate has marked his territory pretty thoroughly.”

Vanessa laughed. “Yeah, he drank a lot of water at the hospital…a lot of water. I came home to find he’d been busy during his trips home to shower. It’s disgusting, but then again, he said you peed on his Jeep, and he didn’t trust you to stay away from what was his. And he’s right, sort of; he just doesn’t get that she belongs to you now.”

She didn’t. He was never going to go near her again. If he had to chain himself to the bed or lock everything up tight so he couldn’t leave in Lycan form, he was going to stay away from her if it killed him.

It
might
kill him.

“She doesn’t belong to me—or even with me, and I’m staying away. I was just…concerned. And I was in wolf form when I pissed on his Jeep.”

“Uh-huh, and he can’t get furry so he’s gone…native.” She sighed. “It really is disgusting. I should stop him, but he seems to think it’s helping.” She yawned right against the phone. “Was that it? Was that what you wanted?”

“Yes. Also, when are you coming back to work? I know it’s the off-season, but the filing is stacking up.”

She hung up on him.

Chapter Three

What a freaking nightmare! Lucifer yowled loudly from the carrier on the seat next to her. He’d always been so well-behaved, but apparently, he didn’t care to be boarded. So, she’d driven an hour there and now back to get him—and it was too soon. She was exhausted. Besides, she had no place to go. She’d told Vanessa she was going to convince them, but they wouldn’t see reason! They’d handed her Lucifer in his carrier with all his worldly possessions and food. Her cat was a nomad now, too.

They were both pathetic.

But now what? She couldn’t take him to her brother’s place. She didn’t want to be the one jabbing Vanessa with an EpiPen while calling an ambulance—actually, she didn’t want anyone doing that. And most hotels wouldn’t take pets, and she was just plain exhausted. She pulled over to the side of the road and eyed Vanessa’s directions.

Her sister-in-law had said the roads looked different at night and she’d need directions, but these roads looked nothing like what she remembered.

“Lucifer? I think Vanessa is trying to get rid of us.” Christa shook her head and looked at the directions. It was nonsense. Where did all these turns come from? “Different in the dark, my ass, I swear we’re nowhere near the right road. We’re going to be living on berries and whatever you can catch. Hopefully you can take down a deer or…whatever.”

Dropping her head back against the headrest, she groaned. Her bones felt heavy with exhaustion and she could hear the bed at her brother’s calling to her. Only it wasn’t calling loud enough, because she had to be lost, and a spattering rain had her wipers moving double time. As if everything else wasn’t enough, her cell phone kept losing reception, so she couldn’t use the GPS or call her brother to come rescue her. Dane was a park ranger—he probably knew where she was.

It was pitch black out there. There was nothing like a bunch of scattered houses in a national park pretending to be a town when it came to the dark. They’d cut this road right out of the forest, and the pine trees rose high on either side. No streetlights. No stoplights. Just an overcast moon, her headlights, and a spooky forest. A forest that would swallow her alive if she stepped outside the car.

Lucifer complained. Again.

“Look, if you’d behaved, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I know you want to stay with me at Dane’s, but that isn’t possible.”

Lucifer didn’t pause a beat. The yowling went on and on.

“Ugh! Lucifer! I will let you out of the car so you can go live in the wild where you really will have to hunt your own food and there are wolves! I saw a wolf already. He’d gobble you up in one bite.” Reaching down, she rubbed her legs. They just had to work for a few more miles. “Okay, so Vanessa’s directions say there’s a turnoff up ahead. But if this is her way of offing her relatives, she’ll get no Christmas gifts from me.” She pulled back onto the road.

Oh, there
was
a turnoff. This still didn’t seem the right way back, but maybe Vanessa wasn’t pure evil, and there wouldn’t be a turnoff if nothing was there, right? She could throw herself on the mercy of some nice strangers.

She pulled out onto a pockmarked, seemingly abandoned dirt road and rethought her brilliant strategy. This was a horror story setting. All they needed was lightning illuminating a tall black house with shutters falling off.

Okay, she had to stop psyching herself out.

This wasn’t a horror movie.

She wasn’t going to run up the stairs to get away from the guy with the ax. You never ran up the stairs. If she didn’t run up the stairs—not that she could at this point anyway—she’d be fine. In theory. This was the longest, freakiest road she’d ever driven on. Anything this led to could only end badly.

When she saw a house lit up ahead, she almost turned back. She stepped on the brake, but her leg went limp, so she leaned forward and pressed her hands down on her thigh. The car shuddered to a stop. Yeah, she was
real
safe to be out on the roads. Reaction time like a ninja.

“I swear this is what her directions say!” She gestured at the house. “I mean, not go to the creepy house at the end of the street, but that turnoff was in the directions.” She grabbed the paper. “And then there’s a happy face.” Shaking her head, Christa threw the directions on the floor. “It’s because I ate the last three marshmallows. How the hell was I to know that marshmallows are sacred? There should have been a sign. ‘Keep out, Christa, if you value your life.’”

Lucifer went silent, and a thump sounded on the back of the carrier as he shoved himself away from the bars. Scary. Nothing freaked Lucifer out.

She swallowed what seemed like a boulder in her throat. Crap. Her window fogged up again. Her car’s defrost couldn’t keep up with tonight. Probably because she was two seconds from hyperventilating.

Rolling down her window to clear it off, she took a deep breath of the rain-soaked air. “Maybe we should…” And it hit her—that weird smell, the smell of forever…or maybe it wasn’t a smell. Maybe it was a feeling. Whatever it was, she suddenly didn’t feel crazy for heading toward this house. They probably
could
help her. No, they absolutely could. Wow, this positive thinking was sooo not her, but it was better than telling herself ghost stories.

Rolling up the window, she kept going.

The rambler that appeared was brown, without a gargoyle or black spire in sight, and all the shutters hung neatly. It was big. It probably belonged to a big family. People with big families rarely murdered stranded motorists and fed their entrails to the sharks. They might not even have sharks. Maybe they had kids—kids willing to look after a cat.

Christa pushed out of the car unsteadily before reaching in and grabbing her purse and the carrier. If they weren’t friendly, maybe she’d ask if she could spend the night in their driveway. Her legs felt a little too weak for her to get up to speed or brake quickly, and with the roads being slick, she shouldn’t be driving.

“Here goes nothing,” she whispered to Lucifer.

It took her far too long to get up the three front steps, but it took her even longer to build up the courage to ring the doorbell. It was only eight, but people with kids put their kids to bed early—if the kids ever went to sleep. Nathanial seemed to be fine without it—he seemed to be going for some sort of record.

Reaching forward, she pushed in the doorbell and held it for a second as she had a dizzy spell.
Whoa!
Swallowing, she leaned back, ending the longest chime in the history of doorbells. Whoever lived in this house probably thought she was a freak. At least Lucifer was being quiet. If not for the weight in her hand, she’d have thought he wasn’t in the carrier—he was
that
silent.

The tap of steps on a wooden floor made her sigh in relief. Cool. She wouldn’t be sleeping on the porch in a puddle.

The door opened and a blast of warm, cozy air breathed across her, and she closed her eyes. She felt home—really. She’d never felt anything like it. It conjured up visions of resting on a couch in front of a warm fireplace with Lucifer curled up on the floor.

And she looked up…and kept looking up…and kept going. “It’s you,” she said, smiling. The guy from the hospital room. The guy she was absolutely—under no circumstances—to see ever again. Ever. And so of course she’d always intended to hunt him down when she was feeling better. Instead, a set of lousy directions had taken her right here. How awesomely serendipitous. Anything that saved her from wandering around searching for someone was good in her book.

“It’s you,” he said, shaking his head back and forth slowly. He was so huge and gorgeous. He had the darkest eyes she’d ever seen, which matched his black, black hair and warm tan skin. Definitely some Native American blood a few generations back. His eyes were scanning her face as if he couldn’t believe them—as if they had to be lying. Then those dark eyes of his dropped to the carrier she held, and they narrowed. “Oh, it’s that
cat
.”

“You know Lucifer?” She nearly wept in relief. Someone who knew her cat. She heard an angelic chorus in the distance. She might be able to beg this guy to take Lucifer until she could find more permanent arrangements.

“Is that its name?” He raised his eyebrows.

Oh, well, that sounded less than enthusiastic.

“He came with that name—it’s not very appropriate in my opinion.” She leaned heavily against the doorframe. “I know this sounds really presumptuous…but can I come in?”

“You shouldn’t. If your brother knew…”

“I’m about to pass out flat on your porch. I’m pretty sure he’d rather I do that inside. So unless you’re planning on killing me—which is doubtful because we have the same taste in stupid hospital balloons—I’d be better off on your floor than on the porch.”

His eyes widened, and he took the carrier from her as he put a hand at her elbow to help her inside. “I’m sorry.” He closed the door behind her. “Do you need to sit down?”

She took a deep breath. Well, that was better. “No, I’m doing okay. I guess it was the humidity getting to me or something.” Something about this place and this man made her feel healthier and more alive, even if he did immediately take his hand off her elbow and step away from her.

She glanced around the house to get her bearings. It was weird coming here—seeing him here. He had the home court advantage. It was a little like cornering a wolf in its den. She’d expected to be on more equal footing when they met again—when she solved the mystery of the man she was absolutely
not
to know.

The house was nice. Elegant. It was simply but expensively furnished. The entryway was huge—it would hold the tallest Christmas tree a person could find. There were long windows up above her, but with the clouds and darkness, they were black reflections of the light inside. They’d look amazing in the light of day.

When her eyes finally went back to the man—the guy Vanessa and Dane had called Jordan—he was eyeing her warily as if he was afraid she’d bite.

She brushed her shoulder-length brown hair back and tried to pat it down. It was probably sticking up everywhere—she tended to mess with it when she was stressed. “I probably look awful. I’ve been on the road for a while.”

“No, you look fine.”

She swallowed. Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but she
had
shown up on his front porch unannounced. He might not even really know who she was. “I’m Christa. We sort of met in Vanessa’s hospital room—only you acted really weird and ran out.”

“You’re Dane’s sister.”

“Yep.

“You’re Dane’s sister.”

She squinted. “You said that twice.”

“It’s worth repeating. You really shouldn’t be here.” He held up the carrier. “And this…shouldn’t be here either.”

She dropped her shoulders in defeat. “Well, I guess that means I can’t throw myself on your mercy and ask you to keep Lucifer for a few days.”

“I wouldn’t take this animal if you paid me,” he said as he looked into the carrier with a glare.

She chewed on her bottom lip. That sounded really adamant. “Oh.” So much for thinking she’d solved any part of her problem. Instead she’d landed in a stranger’s place, a nomad, with a cat no one wanted except her, and she couldn’t have Lucifer with her. And as if it wasn’t all bad enough, her knees suddenly gave out, and she dropped with a thump onto the wood floor. Wood floors always made for painful landings.

“Are you okay?” Jordan was crouching beside her in an instant.

His concern wasn’t helping—well, it was, but she could feel the hot prick of tears that she blinked away. “I’m fine. I guess you just make me weak in the knees.” Her laugh sounded forced, but better laughing than crying. Of all the times for her to fall on her ass…

He shook his head. “I should’ve known. You’re as stubborn as he is. You don’t ask for help unless it’s the only option—and probably not even then most of the time.” He swept her up in his arms as if she weighed less than Lucifer—and he was still carrying Lucifer’s kennel in his hand, too. As he walked through the house, he kept muttering. “I must have done something truly horrendous in another life. I thought when I first heard the car I was hallucinating—I’m functioning on that little sleep, but…no, you’re here. Of course you’re here, and you’re Dane’s sister—of course you’re Dane’s sister.”

They entered a library, which was obviously a bastion of masculinity if the dark oak and leather furniture were anything to go by. A gigantic desk sat in front of a window that stretched from floor to ceiling. Jordan seemed to surround himself with huge everything. If she hadn’t seen him, she’d guess he was compensating for something, but, well, he wasn’t. Probably.

Best of all, there was a fireplace—with a fire. She felt soaked from the chilly humidity in the air and her slow amble to the front door from her car.

He set her carefully on a leather couch before holding up the carrier to his narrowed eyes. Sending a glare back at its occupant, Jordan said slowly, “You will listen to me. This is my place. My domain. If you so much as drop a hair on my carpet, there will be repercussions.”

Christa pushed herself back against the couch as Jordan lowered the carrier to the floor and opened it. Who threatened a cat like that? She wanted to scream, “Run, Lucifer, run for your life!”

To her surprise, Lucifer slowly emerged with his head ducked—as if he was sadder and wiser. The chubby black cat ambled over to the fireplace and curled up in front of it. Well, that was weird. Normally, Lucifer would explore an entire place before he settled down. And, okay, maybe he’d break a few things that didn’t agree with him or pee on things to test your patience, but he wasn’t a
bad
cat.

Jordan nodded before turning back to her. “Now…why is that cat here?”

She grimaced. “I don’t like the way you keep referring to Lucifer as ‘that cat.’ I don’t call you ‘that man.’ I call you by your name, Jordan.”

He jerked as if she’d startled him.

“Jordan,” she said again.

He narrowed his eyes.

She smiled. Maybe it was in her female chromosomes passed down from Eve, but she knew he wasn’t immune to her—in fact, something about her scared the crap out of him. She sat up.