Dire Wants_A Novel of the Eternal Wolf Clan Page 8

  As he watched in abject horror, his father moved aside to reveal the yowling cavern. Jinx prayed this was all a dream, that Vice had slipped him some peyote without his knowledge. That had happened before when the wolf thought he needed to relax, and Jinx had made him promise never to do it again.

  One you completed days ago . . .

  He’d rubbed his eyes as he watched souls dance around, not seeing him at first. They were different. They hadn’t crossed over. He’d never been able to see spirits, and there was no reason for him to start now.

  When they spotted him, they swarmed. He’d been able only to drop to his knees and bury his head in his hands as they hammered at him with their questions and their thoughts.

  They were evil beings. Not demons, but they were spawns of Satan, nonetheless. And they’d been free for days.

  He’d opened the door to purgatory, freeing the Dire ghost army from where they’d been in some kind of holding pattern. But he’d released other things from purgatory as well.

  He staggered backward, away from his father’s ghost and away from the desecration.

  Make them go, make them go, he prayed. Then Brother Wolf took over, and they dispersed at the wolf’s growl. Brother ran deep into the woods, far from the cemetery, and still, Jinx heard the ghost’s laughter echoing in his ears.

  Chapter 9

  The force of Kate’s telekinetic overload was tremendous.

  It was like a mini-tornado, part wind, part tsunami as the pipes in the bathroom burst and flooded the room. Stray couldn’t move either of them out of the way because he was mesmerized by what he saw.

  He was experiencing everything along with Kate, as though it were happening in real time. It was fucking horrifying, more so because it was as if his body were encased in cement, unmovable, even as Brother Wolf tried to force a shift.

  No, Brother, he managed as his mind cleared for a second before being bombarded again with Kate’s thoughts.

  He wanted to pull her out of the dream—the nightmare—but he couldn’t. Instead, he held her tight as he watched the woman reach in to grab Kate from the burning wreckage of the car when it should’ve taken the jaws of life to do so.

  And then . . . she was dying. He was dying—something he’d never do otherwise. He couldn’t bring himself to look away, to tear his hands from her body, because he needed to see what happened, to experience this.

  The screams and the pain receded until he felt so light he could float out of the wrecked car. He no longer smelled the smoke or burning flesh, and Kate stilled in his arms. He saw her smile a little as she stared upward, and he did the same.

  It had been bright, but he hadn’t needed to squint. Quiet, peaceful . . . he’d floated with her and for several moments there was absolutely no pain. He wanted to stay there, and apparently Kate did too. Together, they remained so still, so fucking happy.

  And then Kate looked down and screamed. He followed her gaze, watched her out-of-body experience as a woman with long dark hair threaded with white reached into the car to grab her body out with harsh tugs.

  At first Kate was lifeless in the woman’s arms. But when the witch dragged her out and placed her on the concrete, the pain exploded in a flash of brilliant, blinding white-hot light.

  He was seeing it from Kate’s vantage point, lying on the ground, the concrete hot and uncomfortable, the burns screaming for relief.

  He no longer heard her parents yelling for help and Kate sobbed as he thought that, and then there was a shadow looming over Kate. The view was fuzzy now, thanks to smoke and pain. It was the woman, her long dark hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were piercing. There was no sense of kindness about her despite the action she’d just taken.

  Instead, she was merciless, flipping Kate onto her stomach on the pavement. When her hands touched Kate’s back, Kate whimpered and tried to fight and Stray’s own skin seared.

  “What’s done is done; now our powers are one,” the woman chanted three times before removing her hands. She looked into Kate’s face, smiled sadly and then disappeared.

  Kate was still deep into the nightmare, so much so he heard the sirens in the distance as the car exploded in front of him, the flames and debris miraculously missing her as if she’d been placed under a protective shield.

  She’s immortal.

  He’d suspected as much, but to have it confirmed at this stage was more than he’d thought he’d discover. She must have the brand somewhere for sure. No doubt it was what his hand had made contact with earlier when he’d touched her back.

  His skin still felt burned from the fire and he smelled the smoke. He looked over his arms, sure he’d find them red and blistered, but they were fine. Kate was too—physically, at least. He couldn’t say the same for the room. But hell, that was repairable.

  “I knew it—knew I died. I died and she pulled me from the car . . . No one believed me that I should’ve died,” she repeated over and over. “The woman saved me. The woman saved me . . . said what’s done is done. I wasn’t wrong.”

  He’d never had a mind-reading experience like that, and he never wanted to again. From the second he’d touched her, they were connected. The witch . . .

  He held off the shift as long as he could, tried to tell Brother Wolf it was all good. But the wolf was there to protect him—and it did so by forcing a shift to wolf form, leaving him able to be close to Kate without feeling the pain of her memories.

  But the fact was, the pain was still so visible, visceral, that even Brother Wolf howled as she shook, unable to escape her own mind, and wolf and witch remained tangled together on the floor.

  Chapter 10

  Stray wasn’t sure how long he sat on the floor among the ruins of the guest bedroom, Kate holding Brother Wolf’s fur in her grasp. He nudged her face, her neck, licked her hand, did anything he could to try to bring her around. Finally, she opened her eyes and blinked. Blinked again, and her mouth opened and closed with no words coming out.

  She was in shock. He went to rub her face with a hand, to tell her to breathe.

  And then he remembered that he was in goddamned wolf form and he shifted back as quickly as possible, leaving him gasping—and naked.

  Thankfully, Kate had her eyes closed and was shaking her head as if that would shake the image of the wolf—of everything she’d seen tonight—from her mind. He took that opportunity to move away from her, find a pair of sweats in the laundry room and get back to her before she got herself together.

  He believed now that Kate hadn’t known what she was, unless she was lying inside her own head, but it took a lot of practice to do so. He was pretty sure she hadn’t met up with many people who could read her mind before this.

  She was unpracticed. He’d have to be careful. She needed to know what he was, but was now really the best time?

  She opened her eyes before he got to her, and she stood, faster, much more quickly than he’d have expected. “Is this the part where you try to convince me I didn’t see you turn into a wolf?”

  Ah, fuck. “Kate, listen to me.”

  But she was too busy holding on to the wall behind her, edging her way around him slowly. Brother Wolf growled inside his head at the thought of her running. “Stay still.”

  She didn’t listen, kept moving, and the logical half of him told him to let her go, that she was safe in the house.

  Brother Wolf had other plans. “Kate, let’s talk about this.”

  She sidled toward the door, said, “You’re an animal. Literally. An animal.”

  “I’m a wolf.”

  “No. This can’t be happening. I must’ve been drugged or something. I’m going to wake up and find myself alone in my bed and none of this will have really happened.”

  “Sorry to break it to you, but everything that’s happened tonight is all too real.”


  * * *

  Kate was almost at the door. Stray stood stock-still in the middle of the destruction, bare chested, sweats hanging low enough to be very distracting despite the very real fear piercing her.

  He wasn’t denying what he was. A wolf. And he said it so calmly.

  He’s a wolf; you’re a witch.

  “Yes, that’s right,” he agreed calmly.

  “I’m . . . I can read people’s thoughts, but I’m not a witch.”

  “You are.”

  “I don’t understand any of this. Please, if you let me leave, I won’t tell anyone.”

  “You’re a shitty liar.”

  “And you’re a shitty captor,” she challenged. “I want to leave.”

  “You can’t. It’s for your own safety.”

  “And you’re some kind of witch bodyguard?”

  Stray licked his bottom lip. “Something like that.”

  The brand was responding to his voice. Making her . . . squirm. After what she’d just been through, what she’d learned about her rescue from the accident, that would be the last reaction she thought she’d have.

  “I won’t hurt you. Let me protect you, Kate.”

  It was what she’d wanted to hear from him—and yet she couldn’t let herself believe his intentions.

  Instead, she inched closer to the door, surprised he was letting her. When he spoke, his voice sent chills down her spine.

  “If you run, I’ll chase you. That’s my instinct. I’ll chase you, and I will catch you.”

  “And then what?” She managed to keep the tremble from her voice when she asked.

  “You really want to find out, then run.”

  God, she didn’t know if that would be stupid—or the best thing she could possibly do. But she ran anyway, down the closest stairway and then down another, into a series of mazelike hallways.

  She felt, rather than heard, Stray behind her. His heat, the soft growl of a predator on the chase reverberating through her. But still, she ran in the dark until her side cramped and her legs ached, lungs burned. She slowed, waiting for his hand on her, but it never came. She stopped, turned again, and there he was in front of her, his eyes those of the wolf but the rest of him still pure human male.

  She backed up and he didn’t follow, not until she turned to run again.

  Finally, she pushed through an unlocked door into some sort of gym/training room. And there was no way out but the way she’d come in.

  She’d really backed herself into a corner this time; Stray was already pissed at her, although the danger wasn’t at her throat the way it had been with Shimmin and his men.

  This time Stray didn’t stop coming for her. He strode forward until only a few feet separated them. She swallowed hard, tried to ignore the way her body called out for him to touch her, and took a few steps to make her way back toward the door.

  Stray gave a soft laugh. “Really, little witch? You want to bring out my prey instincts? Because you know what they say about wild animals: They can fool you because they might seem domesticated, but they can never be tamed.”

  God, she believed it. Right now, she didn’t want him tamed at all. Walked toward him instead of away, reached her hands up to twine in his thick hair and pull her face to his. And she kissed him, reversing the roles. Because for once, she wanted to be the goddamned predator. The one who shook Stray to the core, because she was sure he’d managed to do that to every woman in his life.

  But she would be different. Wanted to be, needed to be, although she wasn’t sure why that desire burned so brightly hot inside of her.

  She just knew it was there, and there was no stopping it.

  His lips were soft, but his kiss was hard—demanding. She gave as good as she got even as she braced herself for the pain—hers and Stray’s.

  None came for either.

  She’d tried to have sex just once and had nearly ended up killing the guy. It had been horrifying . . . as though something in her body had at once rejected and repelled the man.

  That didn’t happen, and instead her body flared for Stray. He kissed her deeper and she was helpless against him. His hands went under her shirt, touched her lower back, and the brand tingled with pleasure instead of burning.

  She should be pushing him away. Pushing and slapping, not feeling her entire body ache for him. Her nipples hardened; her body came alive. He tasted like a blend of the richest, most delicious spices. And she never wanted him to stop.

  He knew it, too, the bastard, took full advantage of her sudden, inexplicable wantonness to press his body into hers, to grind his hardness to her belly. When he finally pulled back, he took in her quick breaths with a too-obvious satisfaction.

  She pressed the back of his hand to her lips. They tingled—everything tingled—and if he didn’t back away, she might not be able to resist reaching out and grabbing him and kissing him.

  Ridiculous. Had she hit her head and not realized it?

  “Is this . . . only because of your prey instincts?” she whispered, not wanting him to say yes. Because then anyone could trigger this inside of him . . . None of it would be special.

  He stared at her, his eyes so mesmerizing she couldn’t look away. “Yes.”

  He was lying, and even though she knew that, the fact that he’d deny her was worse than anything. The lights flickered, the floor began to rumble under their feet and she heard something crash.

  She moved farther away from him and felt for the brand on her back, sure it was as red and angry as the first time she’d seen it. Of course, she was the only one who could, which had nearly earned her a stay in the psych ward after the accident.

  She’d been traumatized, but she’d known she wasn’t crazy. So she’d stopped talking about it. Tried to be good.

  She’d become emancipated at seventeen and had floated around doing odd jobs until she’d met Leo Shimmin after her attack.

  Leo Shimmin, who must’ve been watching her since then.

  She was surrounded by the truths she wasn’t ready to face. They made sense and fit with the dreams she’d been having, with what happened at the scene of the accident.

  She’d always believed she wasn’t crazy, but the rest of the world sure gave her a problem with it.

  “I need to see the brand.”

  The door slammed loudly behind her at his request, but he appeared unfazed by any of it. She wished she could be so. “You can’t see it—you don’t know anything.”

  “I know what I saw happen to you during the accident. Control yourself and let me see the brand.”

  She didn’t want to follow any of his orders but needed to prove to herself that she could stop the destruction her mind caused. And it took at least five minutes, with her eyes closed, whispering to herself that she could control it until she stopped hearing doors banging and glass shattering.

  She opened her eyes and found Stray staring at her, approval in his eyes.

  Finally, reluctantly, she turned, confident that he would see nothing. No one ever had. She lifted her shirt until the air cooled the still-too-warm area of her flesh. When she heard the sharp intake of breath from Stray, she swung her head around. “You see it?”

  “It’s hard to miss.” She turned back, stared at the wall in front of her. She wondered if he’d touch it again, and if the same thing would happen if he did.

  When he didn’t, disappointment washed over her. “Show’s over.” She yanked her shirt down and turned to face him. “Everything got worse for me after she touched me at the scene. I should’ve died. You saw it, felt it. I was dying—and she branded me. I’ll never be the same.”

  Chapter 11

  The lights flickered one last time and then leveled out. The alarm system beeped in the background, but Kate wouldn’t be able to hear it. It was set for
wolf frequencies, not human or witch, as the case may be.

  “The accident,” she murmured as Stray watched. Her eyes held the faraway look they had earlier. “They said I was thrown from the car.”

  “You weren’t.”

  Her next words held an urgency that broke his heart. “You saw her—the woman who saved me?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re the first one. The only one,” she murmured. “What does that mean?”

  It meant so goddamned much that he couldn’t even begin to understand it. Kate continued. “She did this to me. You saw when she touched me.”

  “She was a high-level witch.”

  “And she made me one too?”

  “Yes. She transferred her powers to you.”

  “Why would she do that to a thirteen-year-old girl?” she demanded.

  “She had her reasons.”

  “Are you going to share them?”

  There was so damned much to unfold, centuries of history, and there was so little time left. “She wanted to die.”

  Kate swallowed hard, and he had to keep her calm. As her anger rose, the entire house sounded like it was coming down around them. “I felt what you’ve been through, yes. I believe you. Please let me see the brand again.”

  He needed to see it, an indescribable need that scratched at him until he wasn’t sure he could resist touching it. He fisted his hands by his sides.

  Kate hesitated briefly, but she finally turned. With her head bent forward, she pulled up the shirt, exposing a bit of unblemished skin . . . until the fabric passed her lower back.

  As he had moments earlier when he’d first seen it, Stray had to fight to keep his composure at the sight of the brand marring her skin. It was a distinctly raised handprint, the mark of the witch who’d passed her powers on, in the middle of perfect, unblemished skin.

  He glanced between her face and the brand as she looked over her shoulder to try to see the handprint. “You were definitely touched by a witch.”