Dire Desires_A Novel of the Eternal Wolf Clan Page 13

  Now, he traced the smooth surface of his android phone with his thumb, staring at his reflection in the back screen. He had others to contact, to make inroads with and still, he couldn’t get the idea of calling a meeting with the head of the hunters out of his mind. He dialed the phone and left a brief, firm message that he wanted a meeting with the head hunter ASAP. Now he’d wait to see how much respect he actually commanded.

  He’d been doing his best to still push Max and the baby from his mind as he worked the command center of his pack from inside the Dire house. But what he would do—whether or not he’d follow the tradition demanded of him—was on the mind of all the packs who’d stood behind him thus far.

  He couldn’t forgive or forget. The love he’d felt for her had morphed into a kind of hatred that still signified his feelings.

  That’s what you get for hanging with a human.

  The baby was late. And even though he dreaded asking about it, he forced himself to pay Gwen a visit in the downstairs clinic she was setting up.

  “I figured you’d come to see me soon,” she said as she unwrapped a bottle of medicine and wrote on the label.

  “Sorry—I didn’t mean to avoid you.”

  “You did. That’s okay.” She paused and then told him, “She’s not showing any signs of labor yet. And I won’t induce because I don’t know what that does to a wolf pup.”

  He nodded. “Why’s she late?”

  “It’s either stress having the opposite effect on her body or she was just off as to when she was impregnated,” Gwen told him. She moved forward and took his hand in hers.

  “I’m sorry, Liam. I know how hard this must be. But the baby’s coming soon. You need to make a decision so we can make arrangements. A few packs have come forward with offers of foster care. They don’t want a half Were in human hands. That would cause too many problems.”

  Liam agreed. What he didn’t know yet was whether or not he was keeping Max’s child. Vice’s words echoed in his mind.

  We don’t blame the child for the parents’ mistakes.

  Vice was too damned wise for his own good. But it still didn’t help him with his decision regarding Max. And it didn’t make him feel any more confident about keeping this pup.

  Chapter 19

  Gillian paced nervously as Jinx slept. Since she’d known him, albeit, not for that long, he rarely, if ever slept and woke on a dime. Seeing him out like this . . .

  “He’ll be okay, Gillian. They shot him up with some powerful drugs.” Rogue was next to her, hadn’t left his brother’s side since they’d gotten back here either.

  “And if they hadn’t been stopped?”

  Rogue’s brow furrowed. “They would’ve taken him in. Experimented on him. Tried to, anyway. We wouldn’t have let him stay for long.”

  “That’s what these people—these weretrappers—do?”

  “Yes.”

  She stroked a hand across Jinx’s brow and he stirred for a second, whispered her name. She put her palm into his and squeezed. “You were captured by these trappers.”

  “He told you?”

  “No, you did.” There was something in his eyes when he spoke of them. “I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t respond, and she continued, “What were those things? They smelled like . . . they were around Jinx when I escaped from the mansion and found him by the cemetery.”

  “They’re hellhounds.” He paused. “You couldn’t see them?”

  She shook her head no, then swallowed. Hard. “Am I supposed to?”

  “No. That takes a different kind of ability.”

  “You see ghosts too?”

  “Spirits.”

  She didn’t ask about the distinction. “I’m guessing the hellhounds can take down wolves.”

  “I’m thinking yes.”

  “But they didn’t. Why?”

  “I think Jinx should be the one to tell you that. Let’s just concentrate on him for now, okay?”

  “Is this how you all live, all the time?” she asked. “Or is it worse now because of me?”

  “You don’t want me to answer that. No matter how I do . . .” He trailed off and she supposed he was right. Then again, they all lived with something. Rogue was as worried as she was—he couldn’t hide the anger and fear and she decided she loved him for that alone. The fact that he was related to the wolf she’d fallen in love with made it that much easier.

  “I might want you to answer that for me when all of this is through,” she told him truthfully. “For now . . . Jinx.”

  He gave her a small smile and nodded. “For now, Jinx.”

  • • •

  He smelled the hellhounds, heard their paws stamping and swore the ground was moving underneath him. He struggled to get up, to move away from them but they drew closer. Followed him. Worshipped him. Wanted him to run with them and all he wanted was to escape.

  They’re never going to let you go.

  Jinx’s eyes opened with a start and he nearly sprang from the bed. Caught himself before he toppled over, because he was all twisted in the blankets and there were no hellhounds here, just wolves and a vamp and he was safe. For now.

  He blinked a few times and saw Rogue’s form standing facing the window in the dark. Heard Gillian’s restless footsteps outside the partially opened door. Scented Jez, who was hopefully ordering Chinese food, because he heard his own stomach growl.

  A good sign.

  “Hello, Sleeping Beauty,” Rogue said without turning around.

  “You okay?” he asked, his voice still groggy.

  “I don’t know if I’m okay. Might not ever be again,” Rogue said honestly.

  “You shouldn’t have come with me the other night.”

  “It’s what I’m supposed to do, Jinx. Cut the guilt shit.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have come back here with me tonight.”

  “Didn’t exactly have a choice. It’s not like Rift doesn’t know where I am.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “Enough, to Vice. Rifter overheard some of it, about how the hellhounds protect you.” He leaned back, the bottle of Johnny Walker Green balanced on his thigh, half full. He took two more long drinks, nearly draining the bottle before he said, “What the hell are we going to do about this, brother?”

  Jinx stared out the window. “What am I going to tell Gillian?”

  “The truth.”

  “I don’t even know what that is anymore.” He groaned in frustration. “How the hell are we going to get rid of them?”

  “I think I know a way,” Rogue said.

  “Well, come on—I’m listening.”

  Rogue crossed his arms and said, “We can’t open purgatory again—can’t risk it. But we can banish the monsters to hell.”

  “They won’t just go,” Jinx pointed out.

  “No, but they might follow. If you get the prayer done at the right time, I can lead them into hell.”

  Jinx stared at Rogue, waiting for the joke. None came. He opened his mouth, then closed it, because what the hell was he supposed to say? Besides “No way in hell.”

  “Nice pun.”

  “You know what I mean. Even if that would work, you’re not doing it.”

  “Maybe you’re just jealous that I could be, like, a king there.”

  “I would kill you if I could,” Jinx muttered.

  “We can’t keep trusting hellhounds,” Rogue said. “I know it will pain you to give up your king status.”

  “Screw you.”

  “That’s better. I hate being treated like glass.”

  “I’ll beat the shit out of you if it makes you stop talking about going into hell.”

  “I’m there, Jinx. Location isn’t much more than a state of mind.”

  “I’ll sacrifice myself before I let
that happen.”

  “That would be stupid. You have a mate.”

  “I’m not having this discussion now.”

  “Something’s got to happen soon. Very soon,” Rogue warned him, and Jinx planned on ignoring his twin and his stupid, stupid suggestion for as long as possible.

  • • •

  After what seemed like forever, Rogue called to her and Gillian left Jez eating moo shu pork.

  “Is he all right?”

  “He’s up. He wants to see you.” Rogue slid past her and she hesitated for a brief moment. “Don’t be scared of him. He’d die if you felt like that.”

  “I could never be scared of him. Of any of you,” she whispered.

  “Except me, right, darlin’? Because I’m the big bad scary vampire,” Jez called through the pancake he was eating delicately with chopsticks.

  “Yes, Jez. I’m terrified,” she said, went into the bedroom as Rogue chuckled. She closed the door behind her and went toward Jinx, not sure if he was going to be angry or not for the way she’d gotten in between him and Rifter.

  He wasn’t. He leaned back against his pillows as though drained, patted the bed next to him for her to join him. She did and he started with, “I’m sorry. Rifter and I are going through a difficult time. I didn’t mean to put you in the middle.”

  “You didn’t. I did.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

  She sat on edge of the bed, legs dangling. He reached out to run a hand along her thigh. “What did you think of Stray and Killian?”

  “I like them. It makes me feel better that not everyone from my pack is an asshole.”

  “You could still meet them, if you wanted to. Sometimes people need to see where they came from with their own eyes.”

  “I don’t want that. And obviously, I have nothing to offer them.”

  “You’re a Dire,” he told her, like that meant everything, and maybe it should, but she couldn’t accept it yet.

  “They didn’t want me.”

  “That hasn’t been proven, but no matter what, we do. I do.”

  She wanted to trust that. “Why would my own pack disown me?” It felt so right to say that word and for the first time in forever, no one corrected her. “Why abandon me? They must’ve felt something was off.”

  “Dires don’t let their own go.”

  “They let Stray and Kill.”

  He sighed. “Different circumstances. You were left as an infant. They wouldn’t have known if you had an ability yet. There are no prophecies about you.”

  “How about an unwanted pregnancy?”

  “Not the same thing in the wolf world. Mistakes happen, children aren’t punished for that,” he told her. “But the thing is, a Dire’s not able to give birth till she’s shifted. So none of it makes sense unless you were taken.”

  “Like stolen or kidnapped?”

  “Maybe. And it’s not like those Dires could go to the police. Tracking you would’ve proved too risky.”

  She wasn’t buying it. Something fierce and primal inside of her told her she’d track her missing child to hell and back. “I hear . . . rustling in my ears.”

  “Normal. That’s your wolf, letting you know your time’s close.”

  She’d missed everything because her body had spent its lifetime trying to prepare her and doctors spent the same amount of time telling her she was schizo. Her parents had tried, but they’d grown weary of her supposed psychosis and delusions, the outbursts of violence that came out of nowhere that she could never explain.

  “I have a terrible temper.”

  Jinx’s grin was . . . well, wolfish. “Join the club. It’s supposed to be. You’re going to be all right. I’ll make sure of it.”

  She wanted to believe him, and so this time, she did. “What’s really going on with you and Rifter?” she asked. “Or is that a sore subject?”

  “It’s a shitty subject.” He couldn’t tell her that he’d disobeyed Rifter purposely to get thrown out of the house. Or maybe he could—should. Why get closer to her when ultimately, she wasn’t going to want anything to do with him? Not that he could blame her.

  “Hey, lots of thinking going on in there. I don’t like seeing you sad.”

  “I have stuff to tell you.”

  “About Rifter?”

  “That. The hellhounds. I’m sure you’ve got questions. And you’ve been patient. Dealing with the wolf shit you’ve learned about and you’ve been sticking up for me. And you shouldn’t.”

  “Because it gets you in trouble?”

  “Because I don’t deserve it.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  She moved to sit next to him. “Start with the ghosts. Your ability. Rogue said that you see ghosts and he sees spirits. I think I know the difference, but it seems like a burden, which is why I guess you don’t call it a gift.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it should be so terrible, I know. It’s just . . . ghosts, spirits, they don’t shut up. Ever. And they aren’t just going to talk about mundane shit most of the time. They like to tell you about how they died, over and over. They share every brutal detail, like they’re compelled to do so. And when you hear those gruesome stories day in and day out—and it doesn’t matter if you ignore them because they’ll still talk and a part of you will still hear, whether you want to or not—and you can’t be a wolf twenty-four/seven. You can do the salt thing outside the room but they’re still outside. Spells are dangerous because they can be used against you or backfire and I’ve seen enough proof of that to last a lifetime, which in my case, is centuries.”

  “So they’re there, even when you’re . . . when we’re . . .” She motioned between the two of them.

  “Most have the decency to stay away when I’m fucking. Either that or they know that an interruption will ensure I’ll be too pissed to help them afterward or that I can pretty much ignore anything when I’m coming. But afterward . . .”

  “They bother you right away?”

  “I guess they feel like I’m relaxed enough and hopefully in a damned good mood.” Jinx shook his head. “But it’s death, all day, every day, morning till night for as long as I’ve lived.”

  “Centuries,” she murmured and he nodded.

  “Sometimes I feel like I’m crazy. Sometimes I wonder if, in the end, it will drive me crazy.” He gazed at her. “I told you I understood how you felt all those years. That wasn’t some kind of empathetic lie.”

  It was probably also the most honest he’d been with a woman—or anyone—including himself. Because he never talked about it, tried even harder not to think about it. Just wanted to get through the day and find relief as Brother Wolf at night.

  “Gwen said you gave Rifter dreamcatchers. Does that help you at all?” she asked.

  “Ghosts are nothing like dreams.”

  “I’m sorry. That was stupid. I’m just trying to help but you’ve obviously dealt with it for a lot longer than I have.”

  “I like it that you try to help me. I’m just not very good at accepting it, and that’s a Dire trait.”

  She laughed a little. “I guess I can see that in myself.”

  “Admitting it’s the first step.”

  She hated to break up the few moments of levity, but she pushed him, her voice gentle. “Why are the hellhounds protecting you?”

  “Because I freed them from purgatory, along with the monsters that people at the psych hospital saw. I’m responsible for that, and until I figure out how to handle it, everyone I care about is in terrible danger. Look, I can live with the ghosts. Got no choice. But this other shit that escaped—the freaks, monsters, whatever you want to call them—they’re fears personified. And while fear’s a part of everyday life in healthy doses, these are stripped free of any limits. They’re pure, unadulterated fear that can
wreak havoc on the world. Turn man against man. And Rogue is talking about leading them into hell.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “Means he’ll be locked in there with them. You don’t drop things off in hell and skip back out.” He hung his head. “Right now, it’s the only solution I see. I have to choose between my brother or the human race.”

  She didn’t know what to say. Realized there was nothing she could say and, instead, pulled his head down to her shoulder, cradled him against her, wanting desperately to make it better.

  He allowed it, the touch, the slight rocking, the murmur that they’d figure it out together because there was nothing else to do.

  “I can’t imagine living the way you’ve lived without help. Protection. You’re so strong, Jinx. But now I’m here and I’m stronger. You have to let me help.”

  “How? You can’t bodyguard me against ghosts.”

  “What if I could? What if I can protect you and Rogue when you hunt? What if word got out that nothing could or should bother you two when I’m around?”

  “That’s too good to be true.”

  “But what if it’s not?”

  “Even if you could, I’d never let you. Do you realize how exhausting that would be?”

  “Yes, I do.” She touched a hand to his cheek.

  He blinked and looked at her. “Thank you, Gillian. But I don’t deserve—”

  “You deserve everything good. I’m a lucky wolf to have found you.”

  • • •

  Jinx wanted to believe her, and a part of him did. But that didn’t change anything. “I can’t be what you want me to be. What you need me to be. I don’t regret anything we’ve done, Gillian, and my family is still yours. We’ll help you. But I can’t—we can’t—be together. Not in the way we’ve been.”

  She stared at him, her expression sad. “What’s wrong, Jinx? I know you’ve been trying to shield me from things while you’re helping me with my problems. But can’t you let me help you for a change?”

  He hadn’t wanted to tell her like this—or at all. But things were slipping further out of his control. The magic he’d once held over these monsters seemed to be fading and the slippery slope was turning his soul into something he may not recognize soon—not for much longer if he kept trying to keep these things from killing. “No, I can’t. And trust me, you shouldn’t want to.”