Black Wolfe's Mate (Paranormal Shifter Romance) (5 page)

The look on Silas’ face was grim. “No.”

Silas said nothing further, and Derrick knew better than to press him. Derrick might be his Alpha, but there were some things he would never do. He loved and valued every member of his pack like a brother. Considering Silas had been with him for over five-hundred years, whatever happened had been a very, very long time ago, and Silas had proven his loyalty a thousand times over.  If he did not care to share that part of his life, Derrick would respect his wishes.

“It is a brutal process,” Derrick murmured, shaken. Rubbing his fingers into his eyes, he attempted to redirect some of the pain pounding in his skull. The adrenalin that had been supporting him suddenly seemed to drain away. To create the mating bond, it was necessary to kill the human female first. He was no stranger to killing, but it was usually only done out of necessity, as part of the natural food chain or in defense of his pack.

“Yes.” The pain in Silas’ face was tangible before he locked it away beneath centuries of schooled practice. “I will send for Christophe. He has some experience with this. If it is at all possible, he will help her through the transition.”

Derrick nodded. Christophe was their pack healer. He, like all of the others, would already know what had occurred. They would have felt the surge of his power immediately. He looked at Silas, only then realizing he must have been containing the fallout, keeping the others at bay during the madness. The man looked as weary as he felt.

“Get some rest, Silas. Ask Steffen or Dieter to go to her suite and bring her things here.”

“I will see to it personally.”

“Thank you, Silas.”

––––––––

“S
he is so fragile,” Christophe murmured as he carefully examined Angelica. Derrick knew it was a subtle warning intended to prepare him in the event the transformation was unsuccessful. On those rare occasions when Weres did pick a mate, they chose someone strong of body. Typically tall, well-built females capable of surviving the transition, the demanding physical attentions of a mate, and the eventual hope of pups. Wolves were not the most gentle of creatures.

Derrick knew all this, just as he knew Angelica was none of those things. She would be considered small, even among human females. Among Weres, she was even more so. She did not have the powerful build and hardness of the women usually selected as acceptable mates, nor did she have the aggressive personality of a predator. She was all feminine curves and softness, soft-spoken and quiet. Although, Derrick did sense an inner core of strength not immediately obvious at first glance.

He knew one other thing, too: she was his.

It made no sense whatsoever, but there it was. The beast wanted
her
. If it had been only the beast, he might have been able to let her go, rationalizing his decision on any number of things: the damage done to her body, her inherent frailness, the fact that he knew next to nothing about her. Sometimes it took decades, even centuries to really know someone. He had known her for...what? A few days? And most of that time had been spent in silence. Aside from the little Silas had been able to discover, he knew nothing about her.

And none of it mattered, because the man wanted her every bit as much as the beast. “But she is alive,” Derrick pointed out, back to his human form. It had taken the rest of the night and most of the next morning, but her heart had repaired itself enough to start beating again. The moment had been epic. Even his pack mates — who did not understand his choice but supported him, nonetheless — had been holding their breaths.

Derrick lifted her into his lap, then scored his wrist and held it to her lips. He felt joy flood through him when she latched on and began suckling from him like a whelp. Weres were typically not vampiric in nature, but their blood was a necessary part of the Making. The specialized DNA was what fueled the transition as well as provided a cellular model for reconstruction.

In her unconscious state, Angelica could not consume the nutrition she needed to essentially rebuild her entire body from the inside out. Once the transition was complete, there would be no further need for the sharing of blood. Although, sometimes it was done for pleasure during particularly aggressive matings — usually upon full moons or when the she-wolf was in heat. A male’s blood given at such a mating increased the chance of conception, though no one quite understood why.

Derrick prayed she made it through for him to find out.

At first, Derrick tried to sustain her himself, but the damage had been so severe that she required more than he was capable of safely providing. She needed to be fed every couple of hours like an infant. The pack intervened when they saw how much it weakened him and had been assisting in her care and feeding. Derrick was touched by their actions. It was a testament to just how highly they regarded him. Despite his uncharacteristically impulsive — and exceedingly questionable — actions, their support was unwavering.

The thought brought a wry smile to his lips as he sealed his wrist and tucked her into his neck. Like it or not, the fragile Angelica truly was a member of the pack now. Blood bonds were sacred, and she had the blood of the entire pack running through her veins. Had she been a typical Were mate, she would have been bound only to him.

Some things, however, were exclusively his privilege
, he thought possessively, openly sharing those thoughts with his males even as he broadcasted his gratitude. Only he would know the pleasure of her flesh.

And only he would bathe her.

Once everyone else had left, Derrick removed his clothes, lifted her frail body with great care, and carried her into the adjoining bathroom. He was mindful not to jar her as he stepped down into the sunken tub, settling into the healing warmth of the mineral waters.

“Sweet Angelica,” he murmured against her ear. “What spell is this you have cast upon me?”

There were legends that spoke of fated mates, of those who would be a male’s perfect complement in every way. Every shifter wished for such unions, but they were far too rare to be expected. Was it possible that this lovely creature was meant to be his? Is that why he had been so inexplicably drawn to her?

It seemed highly unlikely. Nothing about this woman suggested she would make a good candidate for an Alpha’s mate. And yet everything about her called to him on a level so deep, he was at a loss to explain it any other way.

As he held her against his body and gently cleaned away the blood and gore from her now-sealed wounds, the feeling that he had done the right thing continued to grow. He didn’t need to understand it for it to be true. As a shifter, he relied on his instincts as much as his intellect and those instincts were screaming to him now. Angelica was his. And she
would
survive this.

He felt Silas’ presence as he wrapped Angelica in a fluffy robe and placed her back in his massive four-poster bed. With the strength of the pack running through her veins, her body was healing rapidly. Her mind would remain closed until the physical transformation was complete, but Derrick would use that time to build a bond with the primal beast now gathering purchase within her.

“Have you secured her personal effects?” he asked. No matter what the outcome, she would not be returning to her suite. When she managed to make it through the transformation — he refused to accept any other possibility — he might never let her out of his sight again.

“Yes.”

Derrick’s head jerked up immediately, the single word response holding a note of unease. He re-opened the Were part of his brain, which he had closed while giving Angelica her bath, in an attempt to identify the source of Silas’ discomfort. He’d had no desire to share the experience with his pack mates through their shared bond.

He clearly felt what could only be described as a mild form of shock. It came not only from Silas, but from the others as well. Neither bad nor good, it was more puzzling than anything.

“Silas, what is it?”

The sentinel’s face revealed nothing of the emotions Derrick sensed, remaining as composed and controlled as ever. “I think you need to see for yourself.”

Derrick arched a perfect brow.

“Come,” Silas said. “The boys will stay with her.” The three adolescents from the Northern Tier pack appeared in the doorway, sniffing the air with curiosity. Derrick was about to refuse, unwilling to leave Angelica even for a few moments, but Silas was insistent.

“You need to see this, Derrick. We will just be in the next room. You will sense immediately if she needs you.”

Whatever it was, it had to be important for Silas to be so adamant. Silas knew how strongly Derrick felt about remaining close to her in case things suddenly took a turn for the worst. They all did.

It was Markus who spoke on behalf of the boys. “We will watch over her, sir.”

Derrick nodded reluctantly and softly kissed Angelica’s forehead — a clear statement of possession in the presence of Silas and the boys. He murmured a few words in her ear before following Silas into the next room. The boys dutifully took their places beside the bed, watching over her with a protective air.

Derrick then understood Silas’ request had a secondary purpose as well: to give the young ones a chance to feel useful and put that innate need to protect to good use when it had been so battered recently by the attack on their pack. It showed a measure of trust in them while posing no serious risk. He glanced back at their faces, noting the awe in their expressions. Even unconscious, Angelica drew people to her.

He almost smiled. Angelica was going to be the most protected female on the planet.

“W
hat is it that is so—” he began, stopping immediately when he saw his entire pack gathered there. There was a small canvas suitcase on the sofa, as well as a carry-on. Obviously, she didn’t have much in the way of belongings. But what caught his attention were the drawings covering the table: hand-drawn sketches of such remarkable quality they might as well have been photographs.

Pictures of Derrick and every one of his sentinels.

They waited in silence as he took them all in. It was several minutes before he lifted his eyes and met those of his pack mates. His brothers.

“We found them on the desk in her suite,” Steffen said quietly.

When had she done these? More importantly,
how
had she done them? Derrick could understand the pictures of him and those of Antoine seemed reasonably plausible as well, but the others? They’d had no personal interaction with her, had they?

The sketches showed an incredible amount of talent. Not only had she recreated their images in breathtaking detail, she had also managed to capture their personalities. Anyone who viewed them would have had a very good sense of the males themselves. Derrick’s clearly depicted a leader, a man of unquestionable quiet authority. Silas’ intensity bled through, nearly hypnotizing the viewer and making it hard to look away. Antoine’s smug arrogance. Steffen’s mischievous, roguish grin. Christophe’s compassion. Dieter’s infallible strength. Niko’s mystery. All were portrayed with haunting accuracy.

The portraits were mostly done in black and white, with color only used to portray the eyes and hair. Even the most complicated of hues, like Dieter’s unusual mix of earthy brown and steely gray, were perfectly captured.

“How is this possible?” Derrick asked, touching each of the pages as he looked at their flesh and blood counterparts. “Could it be, perhaps, that you are all more familiar with her than you would have led me to believe?” His voice was quiet, dangerous.

“I saw her daily,” Antoine shrugged, unconcerned. “You know this.”

Yes, Derrick did know that. He also knew Antoine had never felt compelled to pack personalized picnic lunches for any of his guests before — except possibly for an exorbitant price. Derrick was quite sure Angelica had neither requested nor paid for such a service, which meant Antoine had taken it upon himself to do so.

“I do. It is the ‘why’ of it that eludes me.”

“She was not eating,” Antoine explained with a small, impatient wave of his hand. Derrick pinned him with his Alpha glare, silently requesting the truth. Antoine sighed. “I cannot properly explain it,” he admitted, “except to say I wanted to do it.” He glared at the others, daring them to make a smart-ass comment. No one did.

“I spoke to her only once upon your command,” Silas spoke next, “the day you asked me to persuade her from the rocks.” Silas’ lips quirked at the memory.

She had looked at him with those huge eyes and apologized for being a nuisance. Her demeanor expressed such disappointment at having to leave, he ended up sitting out there with her for a little while longer. Her skin had turned an unusual shade of pink when he lifted her into his arms without warning, carrying her back to shore because he feared she might be swept away.

“I brought her here,” Steffen piped up, “along with a dozen others.” He furrowed his brows. “I almost missed her at first. Thought I’d gotten everyone, started to untie the ropes from the dock, and then, there she was.”

He felt the lightest touch on his arm and glanced down to see her looking at him.

“Yes?” he said, impatient to be off.

“I think I’m supposed to be on this boat,” she said quietly.

“Did you hear your name?”

“No.”

“Then you’re not supposed to be on my boat.”

She shifted her weight back and forth, biting at her lower lip, as if she were uncomfortable. “Um, sir?” He turned back to find her looking at the passenger list. “This is me.”

“I felt like shit,” he confessed. “I
never
miss a guest. I apologized, of course, and she just looked at me with those big doe eyes and told me not to worry about it, that it happens to her all the time. I kept an eye on her throughout the entire ride. Everyone else was enjoying the free drinks and snacks, but she just stayed in the back, far away from the other passengers. I swear, I didn’t even see her disembark.”

Derrick turned to Christophe, who looked uncharacteristically guilty. “She sought me out on her first day,” he admitted.