Wild Instinct (33 page)

There was only one person he was wanting to be good to. He brushed his lips over her hair. “No one at all.”

Her fists slammed against his shoulders. “I thought you were dead.”

She kept coming back to that. “I know.”

She sniffed. Once. Twice.

“Are you crying?” He didn’t like the thought of her crying.

“Not over the likes of you!”

The hell she wasn’t. He tugged her head back. Tears hovered in her beautiful brown eyes. Splotches of red spread across her face and a frown made up the majority of her expression. “Yes, you are.” He kissed the tight line of her mouth, running his tongue over the seam. “I like it.”

She hit him again, albeit not so hard. “Ass.”

He chuckled, kissing her once more. “I’ve never had anyone care enough to cry over me, so fair warning, there’s not much you can do to ruin this for me.”

He felt her knee flex, and adjusted his position, just in case she got the notion to knee him in the balls. Despite his words, that would ruin the moment.

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he whispered against her mouth, feeling her surrender in the softening of her lips. “Now, kiss me back.”

He felt the press of her claws, the graze of her canines; then with a sob, she collapsed against him. “I hate you.”

He took possession of her mouth with the slow thrust of his tongue. Her moan of surrender was sweet to his ears. Fire blended with pleasure as her thighs cradled his cock, and her breasts flattened against his chest. His woman. His mate. His. He kissed her until she panted against him and he couldn’t breathe for the need thundering along with his pulse, kissed her until the only thing left was to thrust deep within her tight sheath and complete the claiming he’d begun two days ago. Movement to his left reminded him they weren’t alone. Josiah. They’d probably already given the kid enough of a sex education to scar him for life. Shit. He backed off the kiss, easing Rachel back to awareness. When she blinked at him, her lips parted and swollen from his attentions, he whispered, “It was a good plan.”

As awareness returned to her gaze, he patted her rear and turned her toward the motorbikes. “Not only that, it worked.”

Ten

IT worked. Rachel ground her teeth as she took the motorbike over the next hill, glaring at Curran’s back. Who did he think he was kidding? It was only sheer luck that had that reckless plan working. A thousand and one things could have interfered with its success from the simple possibility that his reaction to the peanut butter could have been more severe than he’d anticipated to the rogues’ frustration level being high enough to overcome the werewolves’ innate revulsion at disturbing the dead. And if she hadn’t had the vision, she might have taken Josiah and left. It would have served him right if she had.

Curran pulled to the side ahead. She throttled down and came up beside him. Unlike her and Josiah, he didn’t wear a helmet. Ostensibly because he needed to be able to hear and fight if necessary, but after last night, she knew it was just another example of his reckless nature on display.

The machine came to a stop. She braced her feet on the ground, balancing her and Josiah’s weight. Her arms vibrated with the engine.

“How are you holding up?”

Not that well, if truth were known. It always looked so easy to ride a bike on TV. But to ride a bike through the mountains was a far cry from going around a dirt track. The strain was telling on her arms and legs. Fatigue was wearing on her brain. “I think it’s time for Josiah to ride with you.”

He frowned. “Are you going to make it?”

There was the temptation to lie, but aside from the fact that she couldn’t lie to her mate, there was Josiah’s safety. She was getting tired, her riding sloppy. He’d be safer with Curran.

“Its not that much farther.” He swung his leg over the back of the bike and stood. “About another twenty miles.” He untied the gas can from the back. “Hop off and walk around while I fill the tanks.” Josiah was already off. Curran handed him a pack.

“There’s peanut butter and crackers in the front pocket. Think you can make your aunt and yourself a snack?”

“Yep.”

“Good, then get to it. We’re not going to be here long.”

Rachel got off the bike. The muscles in her legs were stiff and she could barely walk.

Curran chuckled. “Feels a bit like you’re still riding, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Going down will be tougher than going up.”

Naturally. Nothing could go easy. Rachel looked down the mountain. They were above the tree line. The path was steep and strewn with rocks. She couldn’t see what happened to the trail once it disappeared into the trees, but she had a fair idea she could add mud to the list of obstacles. The thought of taking the bike down there scared the crap out of her.

“Maybe I should just walk mine down.”

“Not an option.” He pointed to the right. “See that valley over there?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the Carmichael strength stronghold. Sound carries up here. Someone will come investigating who’s riding motorcycles up here.”

The Carmichaels. “The rogues mentioned something about them.”

Curran unscrewed the cap to the gas tank and poured the gas in. “I bet.”

“I don’t think they’re in cahoots.”

Curran looked up. “What makes you say that?”

“From what they said, I got the impression they don’t have loyalty to either side.”

Cur screwed the cap back on with an outward impression of nonchalance, but she could feel the tension within him.

“Be specific.”

She couldn’t. As hard as she tried to remember what she’d heard that night, all she remembered clearly was panic over Curran’s state.

“It’s important.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes, trying to remember the words spoken. “I remember hearing you fall down. The first couple men coming in made comments about you being drunk. Someone made a comment about leaving the mixes to Haven. Someone else mentioned about letting the Carmichaels take care of Haven. There were comments about the Carmichaels being a traditional pack. About them cooperating long enough.”

“Long enough for what?”

“I don’t know.” She opened her eyes. “They didn’t say.”

“You sure?”

She closed her eyes again, trying to remember. The blackness at the edges of her vision began to blur to a gray. A vision. Oh, God, she didn’t need a vision now, here. But as usual it didn’t matter what she needed. The visions came when they did, taking over, ruining her life. Josiah’s hands slid into hers. Reality blurred away as the dream spread from the center of her mind’s eye outward.

“It’s okay, Aunt Rachel. I’ve got you.”

The vision grew stronger. Bodies formed in the mist, hazing her mind. She squeezed Josiah’s hand. Holding her hand was something he’d done since the time he’d overheard her confessing to Sarah Anne that the visions scared her.

“What’s going on?” Cur asked.

She shook her head. The words couldn’t get past the power of the vision.

“She’s having a vision.”

“What the hell?”

A distant part of her mind recognized Cur’s shock. Her world diminished until she was standing in a meadow looking through the transparent walls of a shack. Inside stood three men. Two she couldn’t see; one she could. The one she could see was very scary. There was no doubt he was wolf. No doubt he was ancient. His face was horribly scarred. His eyes were cold and held the promise of death. She could sense he was facing enemies but he wasn’t afraid. Resolute. He was resolute. He knew what he was doing. He knew it wasn’t going to make anyone happy, but he was doing it anyway. The wall shimmered and solidified until she couldn’t see any more inside the cabin. She heard a door open, the scuffle of feet. She heard Cur’s snarl and then a cry of “traitor.” The fog wavered. A gun cocked. She could feel the threat. Someone was going to die. She screamed, in her mind grabbing for the gun. Not Curran. Not her Curran.

“Goddammit, Rachel. Come out of it.”

The mist wavered and dissipated. Rachel blinked. When she opened her eyes, all she could see was leaves backlit by sun with specks of blue sky in between.

The sun was blocked and then all she could see was Curran’s face. A dream. It was just a dream. The scent of blood spiced the afternoon air. Beads of sweat dripped down her brow. The world shook again.

“Rachel, look at me.”

The world wasn’t shaking. Curran was shaking her. She moaned, remembering the gun blast.

Curran shook Rachel again. Her skin was pasty white. Her claws gouged his arms, but she was with him. And she wasn’t screaming. He didn’t think he’d ever get the sound of her scream out of his mind.

She was having a vision, Josiah had said. She was a witch. A witch in the eyes of all werewolves was evil. Fine. He looked into her face, her terrified gaze, and he didn’t care. He pulled her into his embrace, holding her face into the curve of his throat, rocking her. “It’s all right, Rachel. It’s all right.”

“The traitor got you.”

“What traitor?”

“The ancient with a scarred face. He betrayed you.”

He knew only one werewolf that fit that description. Daire. The mercenary with no allegiance to anyone. One of Haven’s Protectors.

Eleven

“YOU’RE sure she’s talking about Daire?”

Cur glared at Donovan. “As sure as I am that I gave you that black eye.”

Donovan bared his teeth. “One lucky shot does not a threat make.”

“And suspicion doesn’t make for conviction,” Cur snapped back.

Kelon yanked Cur’s handcuffed wrists up behind his back. If they had been regular human cuffs, he’d have broken them. “Until Wyatt gets back, it’s what we’ve got.”

Cur snarled. And jerked on his arms. The sons of bitches had taken Rachel from him the minute they’d arrived. He’d fought, but they’d had the advantage. He hadn’t seen the assault coming. He was pack. Pack didn’t turn on pack. Kelon just increased his grip.

“Settle down while we sort this out.”

“There’s nothing to be sorted. Rachel is my mate. She wears my mark. By pack law, you have no right to hold her.”

“And in ordinary times, we’d concede that.”

“But these aren’t ordinary times.”

Pain ground through his shoulder as Kelon wrenched his arm higher. He snarled at him over his shoulder. It’d taken both Donovan and Kelon to get the cuffs on him. He would kill them both when they took them off. “Fuck you both.”

Donovan shook his head. “No, thanks. Now, focus.”

He smiled coldly. He’d told Garrett it was a mistake to strive for more than they were. No pack would accept mixed-bloods. Here was the proof. “Uncuff me.”

“Not until you get that temper under control.”

“I’m in perfect control.” For a man whose mate had been taken into custody. For a man whose mate believed he’d betrayed her. For a man who’d thought he could trust pack.

“Good. Then tell me what you know.”

“Where’s Garrett?”

“Busy.”

Movement outside the window caught his eye. Garrett stood across the street, leaning against a post, a smile on his face. No one who saw that smile thought he was up to any good. Cur knew the instant Kelon saw what he did. The werewolf stiffened.

“Shit.”

Donovan came over. “What?”

Kelon motioned to the window. “Looks like we have dissension in the troops.”

Garrett touched his hand to his hat. As a gesture of respect it was lacking. A crook of his finger summoned someone over. Cur burst into laughter as Rachel came into view. Garrett had busted her out. Another crook of his finger and four more women joined Garrett.

“Hell, I’d say we’ve got a full-out rebellion.”

Two of the women broke ranks. They had similar looks, similar builds and similar frowns. They headed for the front door.

“Your mates?” Cur asked, his anger at last having an outlet.

Kelon glared at him. “Yes. And if you’ve upset mine, I’ll cut off your balls.”

“I’m sure she’s no more upset than mine.”

Kelon frowned as the front door slammed.

“Kelon!”

“Donovan! What did you do to Rachel?”

“Shall I tell them?” Cur asked.

Kelon’s hand slammed between his shoulder blades, knocking him forward. Donovan caught his arm and murmured, “Robin is pregnant.”

Shit. Cur pulled himself up just as a small, plump woman burst into the room. “How could you, Kelon? We had a surprise party planned and now Josiah’s crying, Rachel thinks we hate her and no doubt Curran wants your blood.”

Yes, he did, but not right now. The rage he felt inside seemed out of place with a woman in the room, the words he wanted to say too crude. Hell. Cur wasn’t even Robin’s mate and the tears in her eyes made him feel as guilty as hell.

“Seelie, sometimes things aren’t as clear as you’d like them to be.”

Robin pushed against Kelon’s chest. He didn’t let her go. “And sometimes they’re not as dark.”

The other woman stood just inside the door, tapping her foot. “I want an explanation, Donovan.”

“So do I, but Cur isn’t cooperating.”

“His name is Curran,” Sarah Anne said, coming through the door. “Not Cur. Please use it.”

Donovan cocked an eyebrow at him. “You want to be called Curran?”

“Yes, he does.” Rachel pushed past Sarah Anne and came to his side. She made a soft sound in her throat when she found the handcuffs. “Take these off him.”

Shit. He’d never thought there’d come the day when women would fight his battles for him.

“Ladies—”

Before Donovan could finish the sentence, Lisa had filched the keys from his belt and tossed them to Rachel. With a growl, Rachel unlocked the cuffs. As soon as his hands were free, Cur pushed Rachel behind him, backing up until she was trapped between the wall and his body. As if on cue, Donovan and Kelon yanked their mates behind, leaving the other brunette and Teri standing in the middle of the room, alone and unprotected.