Awakened by the Wolf (12 page)

No, no, no!

She needed to think about the future. Brice's presence in her life was an aberration. Soon he'd return to his life in Atlanta. When he did, Cassie wanted no fallout from his departure. She simply wanted to continue her steady plod toward stability and financial freedom, because in the end, the only person she could depend on was herself.

Chapter 18

W
ith three seconds to spare, Cassie entered the break room. Brice sat at a round table for two, his right leg propped on the second chair. The tray of food in front of him remained untouched.

She expected that he would have finished his portion and most of hers by now. He was making a habit of doing the opposite of what she expected.

He squinted in concentration as his fingers skimmed the touch screen on his cell phone. Although he didn't immediately look up as she approached, a killer smiled curved his mouth, and the air crackled with electricity.

“Angry Birds.” Standing, he shoved the phone into his pocket. “I'm addicted.”

“I pegged you for a sudoku man.”

“Why is that?” Brice pulled out her chair.

Cassie froze. No one had ever done that for her.

His hand nudged the small of her back, and a cuddly warmth spread through her body. She sat down to keep from snuggling against him.

“I've been your grandmother's housekeeper since I was fourteen. After your weekend visits from college, I'd find your crossword puzzles stuffed in the strangest places.”

“Really? Where?” Brice settled in his chair. Curiosity brightened the vivid hues of his beautiful eyes. His lips parted with an expectant breath as he waited.

Cassie's heart raced with a panicked beat. Brice was nothing like Vincent Hadler. Putting them in the same category sickened her stomach, but if she was going to survive being Brice's roommate, she needed to handle him with the same indifference she'd shown Hadler.

Avoiding the hand Brice stretched toward her, Cassie placed her napkin on her lap. “The most bizarre place I found your puzzle book was inside the egg carton in the refrigerator.”

The sound of Brice's deep, rich, sexy laugh looped through her belly. Hadler's cold, harsh laughter, the few times she'd heard it, slithered over her skin, leaving behind a grimy film she couldn't wait to wash off.

“I must've been in the middle of a puzzle when I got hungry.” Brice grinned. For the first time since they'd met, Brice resembled the buoyant little boy and mischievous young man captured in the photos decorating the walls in Margaret's home.

“It seems odd that we never met before Saturday night.” His wistful sigh seeped into his eyes, and Cassie had a compulsion to confess the secret she'd kept from all but her mother.

“Or have we?” Brice scooted closer to the table. His knees brushed against hers and ignited a sinful tingle in her core. “Tell me, Cas. Have we met before?”

“Sort of.” Cassie crossed her legs. A lot of good that did to stop the irresistible sensation of Brice seeping into the deepest places of her being. She wanted to get mad, bolster her defenses to keep him at arm's length as she did everyone else. Brice had ignored the tactic before, he probably would again and the effort to erect the walls he so effortlessly skirted required more energy than she had at the moment. “You were unconscious at the time.”

A soft breath parted his lips. “You came to see me in the hospital?”

“I was visiting my mom.” Cassie shrugged. “When I went down to the cafeteria for tea, I overheard some nurses talking about your parents' decision to take Mason off life support. They were speculating about you, too.” She paused, remembering the irrational panic that drove her to find Brice's room. A frenzied fantasy, really, that if she could make it to him before they turned off the machines, if she saw him, touched him, he would be all right.

Of course, it had been a ludicrous delusion. At the time, Cassie hadn't known Brice, although she fancied a strange connection to him. After all, every week she cleaned his room, washed the clothes he dropped on the floor, picked up the books he scattered through Margaret's house and discovered the puzzles he abandoned when something else had snagged his attention.

Cassie's heart pounded as hard as it did on the day she stepped into the hospital room and saw Brice wrapped neck to foot in blood-streaked bandages. Tubes protruded from his arms and covered most of his face. The erratic beep of the monitors and the mechanical hum of the machines that kept him alive chased away her sleep for months.

“I thought you were going to die.” A sudden spasm seized her lungs. She coughed uncontrollably.

“It's okay, Cas.” Brice knelt next to her, opened his arms and gathered her close. “I'm alive and well.”

Close to hyperventilation, Cassie clung to his calm, steady strength. She'd faced far too many storms in her life alone. Though this one had long passed, the turbulent memory threatened to unleash a maelstrom of restrained emotion. She wouldn't cry, though. There was no need. Brice was indeed alive and well, gently rocking her in his safe, strong arms.

She pressed her cheek deeper into his chest. He rested his chin on the crown of her head and cupped her neck to knead the tight muscles while his other hand caressed her back in long, luxurious strokes that became more sensual as her anxiety faded.

Why couldn't the timing be better? She had so much to accomplish before she could risk falling in love, and Brice Walker would be at the top of her list—if she had one.

With him, she felt safe, protected. He pushed her boundaries but knew when to back off. He challenged her, and offered his support even when she didn't need it.

And she fit so snugly in his arms.

So much for indifference. Oh, that was a fine strategy if they weren't within touching distance. Up close and personal always usurped the tactic.

Not wanting her future to end with a bad roll of the dice, Cassie straightened her shoulders and leaned back. Brice's hands glided down her arms, leaving a trail of chill bumps puckered beneath her uniform blazer. The gleam of primal sentience was back in his eyes. Staring into the deep pools, she could almost hear his thoughts. Not actual words, but impressions. Tender concern, fierce protectiveness. Blatant desire.

Mine!

The declaration reverberating in her mind held Brice's distinctive baritone yet clearly sounded like an animalistic roar. She smiled even though she shouldn't have. Encouraging delusional fantasies would put her on the fast track to devastation.

She forced her attention to the bulletin board on the far wall, breaking whatever spell there might have been between them. Brice reluctantly returned to his seat.

“Why didn't you come back to see me? After the first time?” The sad longing in his voice needled into her heart. He believed so resolutely that his parents didn't care about him that a stranger's visit mattered, and he was disappointed she hadn't returned.

“Actually, I couldn't stay away. Whenever I visited my mom, I'd sneak into your room, too. Even after her discharge, I came by every night to read you joke books.”

“Dirty jokes?” Brice winked, and the mischievous sparkle enticed all sorts of delirious madness.

“No, of course not.” Cassie shoved her straw into her drink and forced herself not to slurp down the iced tea in order to cool the heat flushing her skin.

“Why didn't I see you after I came out of the coma?” He unwrapped a sandwich and handed it to her before opening his own.

“Too many people.” She dribbled mustard inside the ham and cheese sandwich. “I couldn't risk getting caught. If anyone found out how I'd been sneaking in, I wouldn't have been able to see my mom whenever she was hospitalized again.”

An amicable silence filled the room. Cassie didn't expect it to last long. Brice liked to talk. Or rather, he had a way of getting her to say, and feel, more than she intended.

She chewed her sandwich, watching Brice toy with his food. For someone who'd professed starvation earlier, he didn't seem in any hurry to eat. Head lowered, his brows painfully scrunched, he seemed to be working a mental puzzle.

Cassie ate half her lunch before Brice spoke again.

“What do you do for fun? Belong to a sorority? Have a boyfriend?”

“I work and go to school. That's all I have time for until I finish my business degree in December.” On the track that combined bachelor's and master's programs, Cassie's college course work sucked up most of her energy.

“And after that?”

“Find a job that gives me practical experience in the business aspect of managing a resort. I plan to own one someday.”

“Fantastic!” Brice's unexpected enthusiasm didn't inspire Cassie. “Have you talked to my parents about your career goals?”

“No. They weren't interested in my suggestions to boost business, and there's little opportunity for advancement. Don't get me wrong. Your parents have been good to me. But I want to be more than a guest services clerk.”

“I could talk to them, see if they're willing to make some changes.” He finally took a large bite of his sandwich.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I'd rather not have my roommate involving himself in my personal matters.”

“We're more than roommates, Cas.” Brice swiped a brown napkin across his mouth, balled it and pitched it into the trash can. “At the very least, we're friends.”

“I don't want to be your friend, Brice. Roommate is all I can handle.” Although Cassie wasn't sure she managed that very well, either.

Brice stirred feelings in her that could lead to stupid mistakes. And stupid mistakes would ruin her future.

Thin lines formed around the unhappy curl of Brice's mouth. The expression reminded her so much of his mother that it was uncanny.

A pang of remorse tightened Cassie's chest. Although she had Imogene's red hair and small stature, Cassie didn't know if they had shared expressions or mannerisms. The musing Cassie most often heard was whether or not she'd turn out like her mother.

“I believe in you,” Brice said quietly. “Have a little faith in me, too.”

“Oh, I have faith.” Faith that anything more than a roommate agreement with Brice would end in catastrophe. Cassie swallowed the last bite of her sandwich.

Brice dabbed the corner of her mouth. Instead of using the napkin Cassie offered, he indulgently sucked the mustard from his thumb. His radiant smile might have dazzled her if the brilliance of his eyes hadn't blinded her like a train she didn't have enough sense to jump out of the way of. Screeching brakes clamored in her mind, setting off a ripple effect that undoubtedly signaled the beginning of her future's derailment. Only a massive amount of damage control would minimize the impact. Unfortunately, the finesse it required was beyond Cassie's experience. All she could do was wing it and hope her efforts succeeded, because failure would leave her in ruin.

Chapter 19

B
rice crossed his ankles on his father's presidential desk. He picked at the yellow fleck beneath his thumbnail. Kissing the mustard from Cassie's lips would've been so much more fun than sucking it from his thumb. She would've turned all shades of pink and refused to speak to him until he found a way to sweet-talk her into forgiveness.

He craved her nearness. The turmoil inside him subsided in Cassie's presence. At lunch, when he learned of her secret hospital visits, he couldn't help wondering if she had triggered his mating urge all those years ago. Was she the reason he'd fought to live? Was their separation the reason he'd been so restless in Atlanta? Why he hesitated to accept the Woelfesenat's offer and became so desperate to return to Walker's Run?

He leaned back to stare at the ceiling. A few forgotten remnants of resin clung to the exposed wood beams.

“Admiring your handiwork?” His father entered the office.

“Someone's.” As teenagers, Brice and Rafe had endured a brutal inquisition on who had painted the room with silly string. Neither admitted culpability. Not then or since.

Thankfully, the adolescent males coming of age after them had chosen pig wrangling as their rite of passage. Had they reenacted the silly string prank, their Alpha might've suffered a stroke from the repeated assault against his imperial throne room.

Relinquishing said throne to his father, Brice genuflected flippantly, which garnered a warning growl. He expected no less.

Abigail Walker swept into the room on the arm of her twin brother, her head bent close enough to Adam that her kohl strands were lost in his. The profile of her regal nose and the strong, angular cut of her chin mirrored Adam's profile. However, the contours of her face were soft, feminine.

There was nothing soft or feminine about Adam. A stonecutter could've carved his sharp features.

Brice more than favored his maternal side, and many had mistaken him for Adam's son. Brice bore no Walker coloring except for one blue eye and a one-inch tuft of blond hair at the base of his neck, obscured by thick, black waves.

His mother left Adam's side to haul Brice into an unrestrained embrace. “Oh, my baby. My baby.”

“Mom!” Brice tugged her elbows. “For chrissakes. You don't have to do this every time we're in the same room.”

“Get used to it. I have five years of hugs to make up for.” She grabbed his cheeks. “I missed you so very much.”

Oh, no. Not again.

Having his mother smother him, a grown man, with kisses was—well, embarrassing. He'd suffered through the humiliation in front of the funeral home director last night. In her office this morning, she put him through the ordeal again. Thankfully the blinds were drawn.

However, repeating the demonstration in front of Adam more than humbled Brice. At least his father and uncle had the decency to avert their eyes during his mortification.

Abby finally released him. “You have no idea what it does to a mother's heart when separated from her child.”

Three grown Wahya males pretended not to notice the tension that eked into the room with the subtlety of a three-hundred-pound purple panda.

After stroking Brice's cheek, kissing her mate and squeezing her brother's arm, Abigail Walker waltzed unfazed through the invisible quagmire of male contention. She turned at the threshold, surrounded by a beautiful aura of happiness. “I love you all so very much. Now, don't kill each other.”

The office door swooped closed.

Gavin took his seat behind the desk.

“Thank God you're all right.” Adam pulled Brice into a bear hug. “Why did you disappear without a word to me?” Adam stepped back; sadness shadowed the relief on his face.

“I had my reasons.” Brice eyed his father. If Gavin hadn't consented to his presence in the territory, Brice didn't want his uncle to be culpable in the trespass.

Adam's eyebrows drew together, deepening the vertical lines between them. “Don't pull that stunt again or I swear I'll put a leash on you.”

“I'm not a wolfling,” Brice answered, unoffended. “I can protect myself.”

“Yes, yes, but I was worried sick. You should've at least called to let me know you were all right.”

The twinge of guilt Brice felt in his gut wasn't enough to make him regret his actions.

“Perhaps now you can understand what we've gone through.” Gavin's deliberate enunciation carried an unmistakable reprimand. Elbow resting on the desktop, he aimed his index finger at Adam. “You worried for three days. We worried for five years.”

“I kept you apprised of Brice's progress.” Stiff-backed, Adam sat in one of captain's chairs in front of Gavin's desk. “Kept him safe.”

“Stop the pretenses, Dad. No one in Walker's Run cared enough to call or come see me, least of all you.” Brice dragged the other chair toward the corner of the desk, putting equal distance between his father and uncle.

“I did,” Gavin snapped. “Several times.”

The assertion didn't ring true, though Brice had never known his father to lie. “Did what, exactly?”

“Gavin, this isn't the time to hash this out. The boy has been through enough.”

“I'm not a boy.” Brice leveled his gaze at Adam. “What the hell is going on?”

Adam's tightened jaw pressed his lips into a grim line.

“Mason wasn't the only one with life-threatening injuries, son.” Gavin rubbed his scrunched brow. “We lost him, but a miracle brought you back to us, though you weren't the same. Flashbacks tormented your sleep, and you became increasingly violent toward yourself.

“Adam suggested a change of scenery might help distance you from what happened, and since the city offered more rehabilitative services than we had here, I entrusted you to his care. You were only supposed to be in Atlanta until you got better.” Gavin's piercing gaze didn't seem to ruffle Adam's placidity. “Instead, Adam stole you from us.”

“Nice try, Dad.” Brice tapped his fingers against the chair's armrest. “I know you banished me because I'm responsible for Mason's death.”

“Is that what you told him, Adam?” Gavin's face darkened, and his hands curled into hammering fists.

Adam didn't balk. “I swear, I never said anything of that nature.”

“You didn't have to.” Uprooted, uncertain and an absolute emotional mess, Brice had been too embarrassed to ask for confirmation of what he knew in his heart to be true. “No one returned my calls or answered my letters. No one came to see me. Not even my grandmother.” The hurt sliced through his voice, mocking his effort to sound unaffected.

“We didn't receive any of your calls or letters. And our cards and letters came back unopened. When we called, your secretary always said you were unavailable. Every time Adam invited us to visit, you were inconveniently out of town.”

“You could've called my cell, taped a note to my office or apartment door.”

“I called every goddamn day, Brice. Left hundreds of messages with your assistant. Your mother and grandmother sent cards and letters without fail. Even when Adam said you didn't want us to hound you, we never stopped trying to reach you.”

“Adam?” Brice expected his uncle to provide a reasonable explanation. When none came, a sickening sensation churned the food settled in Brice's stomach. “You had my personal calls, my mail screened? You lied about me being out of town?”

“I never lied.” Adam met Brice's gaze, then addressed Gavin. “He was out of town whenever you and Abby visited.”

“Because you arranged it that way.” Gavin jabbed his finger toward Adam.

Adam tipped his head.

An avalanche of questions slammed into Brice's brain. The only intelligible word he managed to utter was “Why?”

“Your guilt ran so deep, the pack doctors believed a clean break from Walker's Run was your only chance at recovery.”

“
Your
doctors—” Gavin slammed his palm flat on the desk “—didn't have a fucking clue about how to help
my
son.”

“Brice is alive and successful thanks to
my
doctors.” Adam slapped the armrest and stood. “I did what I thought best for him. He needed the distance from you and your pack, so I cut him off from Walker's Run to save his sanity. He has a new life now. Let him go, Gavin, before you destroy everything I've built for him.”

Brice should've jumped to his feet, shouted his anger. Instead, he sat there, barely able to manage a whisper as the enormity of Adam's actions pulverized everything Brice had believed.

“Do you realize what you've done?” Brice asked his uncle.

“Of course he does.” Gavin's mouth twisted. “Adam took advantage of your vulnerability and isolated you from us to further his agenda.”

Brice didn't think his stomach could drop any further than his feet, but it seemed the floor opened up beneath him and his stomach decided to keep right on going. He glanced around for the trash can in case he needed to hurl. “What agenda?”

“When you were born, Adam demanded to adopt you. Since you have the Foster coloring, he believes you belong to him.”

“Brice is mine.” Adam's fierce eyes and defiant jaw emphasized how much the man believed his preposterous claim. “He bears my blood through my sister, and since the day he was born, I have loved him as my son.”

“For the last time, Adam. Brice. Is. Not. Your. Son. He's mine!” Gavin sprang to his feet.

“He's always been more mine in spirit than yours,” Adam snarled.

The air between the two Alphas felt thick enough to choke a Wahyarian—the foul, primitive beast civilized Wahyas regressed into only on rare and extreme occasions. Brice sat immobilized as the Novocain of his uncle's deception numbed him mind, body and soul.

“You know nothing about my son. Nothing about what makes him happy.” Gavin shoved his chair. “Nothing about what he needs.”

A flicker of hysterical amusement threaded through Brice's thoughts. His father had no right to accuse someone of something he was guilty of.

“I understand him better than you ever could.” Adam's rising volume matched his rival's.

“Ha!” Gavin threw his palms in the air.

Their escalated voices waned in the veritable howl inside Brice's head. Neither man knew squat about him.

Since the age of four, Brice had looked to Adam as a father figure. Now Brice realized his devotion had been a mistake. If his uncle had cared more about Brice and less about gaining an heir, he would've understood that sequestering him from his birth pack would do more harm than good. Walker's Run was in Brice's blood.

How could Adam betray him? Separate Brice from all he'd known and loved, and lost in absentia? Brice's world tilted, sinking slowly into chaos. Even as he scrambled to hold on to the pieces, he drowned in the truth.

“Why, Adam? Why did you do this to me?” Brice's soft-spoken question silenced the room.

“To protect you. Your health and sanity were at risk.” Conviction laced Adam's words, though the treacherous sentiment was a spinning arrow mutilating Brice's heart.

“My health, my sanity, my risk. Not yours. I spent the last five years believing that my pack had shunned me because of what happened to Mason.” Brice rubbed the knot bunched between his brows. “I loved you, Adam, just as much as I would have if you had been my father. What more could you possibly gain from playing me like a fool?”

“He wants you to lead his pack.” Gavin exhaled a longwinded breath, righted his chair and retook his seat.

“That's ridiculous. The Peachtree pack doesn't have a line of succession. The males fight for the Alpha position.” Brice cut his eyes at his uncle. The man's face reflected the perfect confidence of someone who'd done nothing wrong. “Adam, if you knew me at all, you would've understood that I won't fight. I can't. Not ever again.”

“My pack adores you, Brice. We agreed to forgo a trial by combat if you accept the Alphaship when I'm ready to step down. You proved your worthiness when you killed the rogues who invaded Walker's Run.”

“Worthy? Goddammit, I got Mason killed. Your pack is delusional if they believe a fuck-up is qualified to lead. For chrissakes. Allowing me to believe my own pack didn't want me because yours did is ludicrous. What were you thinking?”

“I wanted you to be happy.” Adam's shoulders began to stoop.

“Do I fucking look happy?” Brice crammed his fingers into his hair and pressed his skull between his hands. Bitter, angry, hurtful emotions whirled inside him, a tornadic force wrenching out the trust he had in his uncle, leaving behind jagged, pulsating wounds in his heart.

“I didn't do this to hurt you.” The sincerity in Adam's voice did little to dissuade Brice's growing outrage.

Five years of longing, of wanting to come home. Five years of time lost among friends, family and his
mate
?

If Cassie was his true mate, then Adam's deception had cheated him out of five years of knowing her, loving her.

A ferocious growl reverberated through the room. Brice seized Adam by the throat and plowed him into the floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Rare first editions splattered on the floor.

“You have no idea how deep your betrayal runs.” Brice growled through clenched teeth.

Adam's hand covered the one Brice held clutched around his throat. “Sometimes our best intentions are our worst mistakes. Forgive me for mine.”

Nose to nose, Brice glowered into his uncle's eyes. In them, he saw a deep, abiding sorrow and an unwavering love. The curses burning Brice's tongue disintegrated.

Adam had opened his home to Brice, mentored him through law school, appointed him a junior partner in his firm and wanted to entrust him with the livelihood of his entire pack. On some level, Brice understood that Adam's actions carried no malice.