Bound to Secrets (3 page)

They feared him.

Part of him hated that. But another part liked it. A lot. His wolf knew he could take them.

But probably not if they shot him first.

A low growl trickled from his throat and the pistol jabbed him again. For a moment, he thought about pushing it; hadn’t this been what he wanted for so long? An end to his existence. An end to the fear he might lose control, take another life.

“What do you want?” His tone was reasonable under the circumstances.

“The boss wants to see you.”

They led him to a café on the main street. The place appeared normal, even quaint with red checked tablecloths and pictures of Loch Levin on the walls. They didn’t linger—or offer him coffee—but led the way up a narrow staircase and halted at a door on the first landing. Connor’s guard holstered his gun, tapped lightly, and pushed open the door. The swirl of power within the room brought Connor’s wolf to full attention.

The air was heavy with the feral scent of werewolf. Connor’s attention settled immediately on the man who stood at the far end of the room. The focus of attention for everyone, Connor guessed he must be the alpha. A woman stood before him, slender and beautiful, with long blond hair. Her whole body trembled under the gaze of the dark-eyed man.

“Your tribute, Maura?”

“I couldn’t, I don’t…” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I don’t have it.”

The alpha nodded and two men closed in on her.

Panic flared in her eyes. “No, please. Next time. I’ll have it next time. I promise. I—” Her words were cut off as the men grabbed her by the arms and she stood breathing hard. A sense of expectancy filled the room and the air crackled with imminent violence. Connor glanced around noting whose eyes gleamed with anticipation and who looked away. But no one moved to stop whatever was about to happen, and Connor took an instinctive step forward.

“Don’t move,” the man behind him said in a low voice.

“Fuck you,” Connor snarled. Even if it got him beaten up, he wouldn’t stand by and watch this. As he took another step, strong hands gripped his arms on either side and held him in place.

Everyone had turned his way and the alpha’s dark gaze crawled over him. A slow smile curled his lips as he nodded to the men holding the woman.

The crack of bone sounded loud in the room followed by a high pitched scream, cut off abruptly as a hand slammed over her mouth. A moment later, she sagged into unconsciousness.

Connor knew the woman would heal when she shifted, but the casual use of violence told him a lot about how this pack was run. This was what he’d expected of a werewolf pack but never found in Sebastian’s.

“Put her in the bedroom,” the alpha said. “She can pay off her tribute another way.”

The two men half dragged the woman away and his attention turned to Connor. The men holding him let go and prodded him in the center of his back so he took an involuntary step forward. Inside, his wolf snarled, but Connor bit down his instinctive response as he studied the other man.

He had the appearance of a Romany, with black hair pulled into a ponytail, swarthy skin and eyes so dark they were almost black. “I’m Logan,” he said. “And you are?”

“Connor. Dr. Connor McNair.”

“A doctor. Impressive. And what are you doing in town, Doctor?”

“I’m here on holiday.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed as though the concept of a werewolf as a tourist had never occurred to him.

“This is my territory.” He shrugged as if losing interest. “You have a day to leave. If you stay longer, you swear a blood oath to me and my pack and you never leave. How does that sound?”

“Like a total pile of shit,” Connor replied.

Without warning, someone punched him in the gut. Pain exploded and he doubled over. When he straightened, Logan raised an eyebrow.

Smug bastard.

“Hey,” Connor muttered. “You’re spoiling my holiday.”

Why didn’t he shut up? The thought crossed his mind as he was punched a second time. Only stubbornness kept him on his feet as something ruptured inside and agony flooded his body. It took him a moment to get the pain under control and he gritted his teeth and slowed his breathing. Like the woman, he would heal when he shifted. Provided he got out of here alive, and that probably depended on him keeping his big mouth shut.

Was it a death wish? He didn’t think so. Inside him, his wolf was urging him on. Telling him he could take the alpha.

His wolf was a bloody aggressive bastard.

Connor didn’t know where he got it from, because he’d always been one to back down out of a fight. In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever been in a fight in his whole life before the change. Now, so often, he craved the release of letting go. Of giving in to the ferocity living within him. It was part of what terrified him so much—the desire for violence.

Closing his eyes, he pictured a woman, with long dark hair and golden eyes. The image soothed him. He straightened and nodded once.

“I’m leaving today.”

Logan studied him a minute longer as though he didn’t quite understand what was going on. Maybe he sensed Connor’s wolf was more of a match for his own and was reconsidering the idea of letting him go.

It took every ounce of willpower he had, but Connor forced his wolf down, and hunched his shoulders as he’d seen the submissives do, even in Sebastian’s pack.

Logan pursed his lips but nodded. “You get this one warning. Now go. If we see you again, you die.”

***

Keira spent the day roaming the moor on Dubh, the black pony having miraculously appeared soon after the werewolf had left. She couldn’t blame Dubh, she reckoned ponies and wolves were prey and predator and it was only common sense.

In the afternoon, she perched on a rock, which gave her a view for miles in all directions. Dubh grazed the rough grass while Keira stared out over the rugged landscape of the moors.

This place was her prison, but she loved it anyway, and a sense of peace and fatalism seeped into her.

The truth was, she had no choices. This was her life. If she involved anyone else with her problems, she might very well get them killed. If she didn’t kill them herself, first. Maybe her wolf-man would come back. If he did, she would allow herself one more night of his company

As the sun sank low on the horizon, she returned to the keep, jumping down from Dubh as they got close, and sending the pony on his way with a pat on the rump.

What if the man didn’t return?

She climbed the ruined tower and perched on the highest part. Finally, she saw him in the far distance. He moved at a fast walk despite being weighed down by bags and other things. He had a rucksack on his back, a shopping bag in one hand, and a bottle of camping gas in the other.

He wouldn’t try and get close would he?

She gnawed on her lower lip. He was still safe. As he drew closer, she stood up and waved her arms.

He must have seen her because he dropped the bags and the bottle and waved back. Then he kicked off his boots and took off his clothes. And she wished he was nearer. He was as beautiful as a man, as he’d been as a wolf.

Finally, he stood naked and she swallowed. He folded his clothes, placed them in a plastic bag, and tucked them under a nearby bush. Even from here, she felt the shiver of magic—or whatever it was—in the air. Then he vanished and the huge black wolf stood in his place.

She scrambled down the tower and ran across the moor toward him. He stayed where he was and she collapsed to her knees and hugged him around the broad neck, digging her fingers into the silky fur. A warm, wet tongue licked her cheek and she burst into tears.

Again.

It occurred to her how tenuous her hold on her emotions really was. She teetered on the edge of total breakdown. She had to get a grip. She allowed herself one sniffle and then wiped her face on his fur and leaned away.

The wolf sat back on his haunches and grinned. Well, maybe it wasn’t a real grin but close enough. He rose to his feet and crossed to the rucksack. It looked heavy, bulging, but he picked it up in his jaws and trotted toward the house. Keira sat for a moment watching the slow wave of his plumed tail. Then she scrambled to her feet, picked up the shopping bag in one hand and the camping gas in the other, and hurried after him.

Once inside, she put the bag and gas down, and lit the candles in the wall sconces around the room. The wolf stared down at the note she had written. He glanced over his shoulder and wagged his tail, then gestured toward the rucksack. Keira crossed to where it lay propped on the floor. She pulled open the fastener and found a piece of paper on the top. Picking it up, she read the untidily scrawled words.

My name is Connor and I’d like us to be friends.

She blinked; he’d hardly want to be her friend if she burst into tears every few seconds. Instead, she bent down and investigated the remaining contents of the rucksack.

Chocolate. Fruit. Tins of soup. Steaks. A bottle of whisky. A huge cake.

Her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled. Very slowly, she unwrapped a bar of chocolate and placed a piece in her mouth. She stood there, her eyes closed as she savored the intense flavor. When she opened her eyes the wolf was watching her, head cocked to one side. She broke off a square of chocolate and held it out to him and he took it delicately from her fingers.

“Hello, Connor,” she murmured.

Turning away, she busied herself emptying the rucksack and shopping bag, nearly swooning as she discovered coffee and milk. He must be a mind reader to know of her cravings. Unable to resist, she set up her small kettle on the camping stove and left it to heat while putting things away on the makeshift shelves.

She’d cook a dinner, a proper dinner. Steak and salad, then cakes for dessert. Would a werewolf want his steak cooked or raw? A smile tugged at her lips at the thought.

She had a friend.

At least for tonight.

***

That night Connor didn’t allow himself to sleep. Keira appeared nowhere near as tired as she’d been the night before and he didn’t fancy waking up to find his brain melting. Instead, he lay beside her, listening to the sound of her breathing.

He realized something. Always before, he’d found his human self totally submerged when he was in wolf form, but this time he could think clearly. He made a mental note to ask Sebastian whether this was normal.

When he knew dawn was close, he rose from the bed, grabbed his rucksack in his teeth, and padded outside and back to where he’d left his clothes. He took a deep breath and shifted.

Once he’d dressed, he sat on a tussock of heather and took out his notebook and pen.

Keira,

I have to leave but I will be back.

He sat back and chewed the end of his pen while he thought about what to tell her. He didn’t want to mention the Agency. Not until he knew more of her story, and he didn’t think she was ready to tell him yet. She had talked nonstop last night while she cooked and ate. But nothing really of any importance and nothing of the past or how she had come to live here alone on the moors.

Watching her eat, he reckoned he’d felt the first moment of happiness since he’d been attacked six years ago. It was his goddamn savior complex coming back to life. And he knew that could only cause him pain. He was no savior; he was a monster. He went back to the letter.

You might not know it, but you have sisters, and they’ve been searching for you. They heard rumors and sent me to investigate. They want to help you. I need to return to London, but I’ll be back in two days.

That was the quickest he reckoned he could do the journey both ways and fit in the operation to have the shielding implant. The operation was a simple one. Even so, he knew two days was pushing it. But he remembered Keira’s tears when he’d arrived back last night and couldn’t bear the idea of leaving her longer than he had to.

He needed to add one more thing.

Keep out of sight—there may be others who heard the rumors.

Connor.

He thought about taking the note back but when he glanced up, she was standing in front of the keep, one hand shading her eyes from the rising sun. He lifted the note and waved it toward her, placed it on the ground and weighed it down with a rock. Then he turned, picked up his rucksack, and set off. It was at least five miles to where he had left the car, and he wanted to be back in London by nightfall.

***

Keira watched until he’d disappeared across the moor and couldn’t help wondering whether she would ever see him again. The sun was just rising; for once, the sky was clear and the light sparkled on the water of the loch. She walked slowly toward the point where he’d stowed his clothes.

A piece of paper rested on a tussock of heather under a piece of rock. She was almost scared to reach for it. But at his first words, she relaxed and the tension inside her eased. She sank down to the grass and read the rest.

She had sisters?

She’d known she wasn’t the only one. Back at the Agency, they’d told her there were others, but she’d never been allowed to meet them. Keira reckoned they’d probably been “terminated” as they’d planned to do to her. Either that or they now worked for the Agency. But perhaps some had escaped as she had done.

Could she trust them?

Maybe this was all a trap. But if Connor had wanted to kill her or even take her back to the Agency, he’d had plenty of opportunities.

And at the end of his note, he’d said there might be others after her. That had to be the Agency. Who else would care? She pressed her fingers to her forehead trying to ease the pressure. Should she go away? Head further north, lose herself in the Highlands?

But she was so tired of running and hiding.

Maybe the time had come to face up to what she was. Perhaps there was someone who could help her get control, even reverse whatever they had done to her all those years ago.

And for some reason, she trusted Connor.

She’d wait and hope that somewhere in the world there were people who didn’t want her dead.