Caleb (17 page)

“Or
maybe I need to take the fight elsewhere.”

Shots
came from the dark, eerie howls broke the night.

“Who’s
out there?” Jace asked.

“Derek
and nine of his favorites.”

“Keeping
the odds even?”

“You
know Derek.” Jared shrugged. “The ultimate negotiator.”

Yes he
was, and a hell of a good man whose friendship with the Johnsons had him
walking a thin line between the werewolf world and the vampire one where the
wrong decision could leave his pack condemned. And yet he refused to abandon
the alliance.

“And
a stubborn one,” Caleb sighed, glancing into the darkness beyond the illusion.
McClaren territory, which the McClarens were legally authorized by pack law to
defend against intruders. To the death if they wished.

“Who
we owe,” Jared reminded Jace. “Which means you can’t just go out kicking up a
fuss whenever you get a burr under your saddle, and then walk away.”

Jace’s
lip lifted again. “I can do whatever the hell I want.”

Caleb
hit his shoulder with the flat of his hand, knocking him back a step, gaining
his attention. “No, you can’t.” He pointed behind Jace. “Those are our friends
out there, fighting to save your ass for the simple reason, in their eyes,
you’re family and that’s what family does. They’ll defend you to the death if
they have to, but son of a bitch, if you’re going to demand that kind of
sacrifice, you’d better have a damn good reason we can all understand.”

Jace’s
jaw locked and he got that stubborn look with which Caleb was all too familiar.
Blood still trickled from a cut under his eye, weaving down the well-worn path,
reminding Caleb how often in the last year he’d seen his brother just like
this.

Caleb
spat, knowing he wasn’t going to get an answer to his question, but compelled
to ask it anyway. “What’s riding you, Jace?”

Jace
turned on his heel, heading toward the illusion and the battle raging beyond.
The answer drifted behind him, more weary than angry. “Nothing I can put my
finger on.”

Caleb
stared after him, guilt weighing him down. How long before what he’d done would
stop affecting them all?

Jared
cocked his gun. “Hell. Things were easier back in the good old days.”

“The
old days are gone.”

“Someone
needs to tell Jace that.”

“I
just did.” Caleb motioned to the gun in Jared’s hand. “You going after him?”

Jared
pulled his hat down over his eyes. “If I don’t, he’ll get himself fried. In
another five minutes the sun will be up.”

The
sounds of battle were fading. Weak and wounded, Jace would be chasing it, like
he always did, the wildness in him forever seeking an outlet. “I’ll go with
you.”

Jared
held up his hand. “You’ve got a wife to get settled.”

So he
did. No matter how happy that made him, however, it didn’t diminish the desire
to go with his brothers, fight by their sides, cover their backs. Although they
were all grown men and deadly vampires to boot, his first instinct was always
to protect them as he’d promised he would when their parents died. Caleb
watched Jared move as silent as a shadow along the path Jace had taken.
Frustration gnawed at his soul. Another brother he was losing because they
couldn’t put that one irrevocable moment behind them.

Jared
got to the edge of the illusion and turned back, standing as Caleb had seen him
stand so many times before—tall, deadly. Determined. Caleb braced for the cut
he knew was coming. What he got instead surprised him.

“Whatever
this is with Jace, Caleb. It isn’t because of you.”

He
disappeared from sight, leaving only the concession behind, the first one Caleb
had received from him in a long time. On the surface, it wasn’t much, but from
Jared, it might as well be a statement of intent.

Jared
was beginning to let go of the anger.

Now
if he could only get Allie to do the same.

SHE’D
finally found something to keep her busy.

Allie
stood in the kitchen and smiled at her latest project.

It was
a monster. Big, black, and ugly. She had absolutely no reason to be in love
with it . . . but she was. Hopelessly and completely in love. Allie touched the
newly blackened surface of the ancient woodstove and smiled again. Clothes
didn’t make the man and a new coat of paint wasn’t going to make this stove,
but the sheer challenge of baking the way her ancestors had, ah, that was
seduction itself.

In
the far corner of the room, the last ray of daylight disappeared from the crack
she’d made in the curtains. She missed sunshine and autumn colors. Caleb was
emphatic that she’d adjust, come to learn to love the beauty of the night. The
man seemed to be convinced of a lot of things when it came to her. So much so,
she didn’t have the heart to tell him she wasn’t really into adjusting. She
much preferred to change her environment to suit herself rather than adjust to
something she didn’t like.

She
stroked her finger over the stove again, tracing the pits in the iron honed by
time, imagining the women before who had stared at this behemoth and had the
same feelings of hope and inadequacy. Her hand tingled with the challenge of
coaxing something edible out of the beast. Maybe even the bear claws Caleb
liked. Of course, just getting the ingredients she needed might be a tall
order, but that was a complication for tomorrow. Today she needed to reconnect
the chimney and hope she could get enough draw to not burn down the entire
house when she lit it.

The
last of the sun faded from the room, plunging it into gloom. Her vision
switched to the intense black-and-white night vision she hated. No matter how
detailed, this was the one thing that pissed her off about being a vampire. She
absolutely hated having to view the world differently, but she’d promised Caleb
she would try to adjust. And he in turn promised she could try to bring this
old kitchen back to life.

She
went to open the heavy oven door. Faint rustling noises from inside had her
immediately removing her hand from the latch and stepping back. She didn’t want
to find out the hard way that there were “were” mice. Just the thought sent a
shudder down her spine.

“Problems?”

She
turned, not sure which brother had found her now. She met Slade’s hazel eyes
and smiled. Things were looking up. The very intense, slightly wild
intellectual. Exactly what she needed. “Nothing I’m sure you couldn’t help me
with.”

He
took a step back. “If you want help changing again, you’re gonna have to wait
for Caleb.”

She
arched her brow at him. “Chicken.”

He
didn’t even bother to deny it. “Caleb about tore me a new one after that last
fiasco. He was not fond of you running around with feathers sticking out of
your fingers.”

“I’ll
get the hang of it.”

He
pushed his hat back, his smile more relaxed. “I hope so because changing forms
sure isn’t coming naturally to you.”

She
crossed her arms over her chest. “I suppose none of you had any trouble
shifting your first time?”

A
frown replaced his smile. “Actually, no. If I recall it right, we kind of
shifted without even thinking about it. Gave us a scare until we realized we
could shift back.”

She
rolled her eyes. “Great. If all of this was so easy for you, why is it so
darned hard for me?”

Instead
of making fun, his expression grew serious, the inner intensity radiating
outward. “Actually, that’s an interesting question. I want you to come to the
lab for some tests.”

Scenes
from
Young Frankenstein
flashed through her mind.

“Thanks,
but no thanks.”

He
frowned, getting that scientist-in-search-of-answers expression on his face
that scared her. “We need some answers. There could be multiple reasons for
what you’re experiencing.”

Probably,
and none of them good, which was why she wasn’t exploring them. “That can
wait.”

“Actually
the sooner—”

She
cut him off. “Slade, I need your help.”

Immediately,
she had his full attention. “What’s wrong?”

With
a wave of her hand, she indicated the stove. “Do you know how to make this
work?”

His
gaze followed the direction of her wave. “Yes.”

She
rolled her eyes when he didn’t elaborate. “Can you tell
me
how to make
it work?”

Now
she had his attention. Slade was a sucker for anything involving the word
“how.”

“Why?
We’ve got a perfectly good kitchen in the front of the house.”

“Because
I want to cook in this kitchen.”

His
right eyebrow rose along with the side of his mouth. With a start, she realized
he was as handsome as Caleb in his own way. She’d never thought of any of
Caleb’s brothers as men, but the brothers were actually very attractive. “That
I figured, but for whom? Vampires have a limited diet.”

She
so did not need the reminder. Caleb was out “filling up” right now. Something
he normally wouldn’t have to do except for her higher need for blood. She
seemed to require feeding on a daily basis.

“Caleb
for one. He likes my bear claws.”

“Caleb
ate your bear claws?”

Okay.
They could question her competency in a lot of areas but not when it came to
her cooking. “Back off, Slade.”

He
held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not questioning your ability to cook, just Caleb’s
ability to eat.”

“The
man’s been showing up at my bakery like clockwork for the last month. He had
two bear claws and a cup of coffee every morning, which he ate with every
appearance of enjoyment.” Enjoyment she wouldn’t believe was faked. “I think he
can eat.”

“Not
unless he’s been puking it back up as soon as he’s out the door.”

Now
that was something she hadn’t considered. “You think Caleb’s bulimic?”

“Bull
what?”

“Bulimic.
As in throws up whatever he eats, a bad, sometimes fatal habit some women get
into rather than gaining weight.”

Slade
first looked shocked and then amused. “Bullheaded maybe, but I don’t think he’s
overly concerned with poundage.”

“Then
why is he throwing up?”

The
look he gave her was long and considering before he shrugged and added
cryptically, “Probably for the same reason you want to restore this old
kitchen. A fondness for the past. And maybe a very strong attraction to the
owner.”

“He
did mention something about that.” A fact she was still having a tough time
accepting.

“I
bet he did.” Slade knelt in front of the stove. “You checked the chimney yet?”

“No.”

He
looked at the freshly painted exterior. His glance clearly said she’d jumped
the gun. “Why not?”

“I’ve
been a little nervous about disturbing the inhabitants.”

His
head cocked to the side as he listened to the renewed rustling. “You’re afraid
of mice?”

“I’m
not arguing they have a high ‘ick’ factor, but that wasn’t why I was
hesitating. Before I opened the door, I was going to ask . . .”

“What?”

“There’s
no such thing as were mice . . . is there?”

Her
reward was a chuckle, completely natural and masculine, and sexy. Damn, were
the Johnson brothers breast-fed testosterone? Slade opened the door. “No.”

The
sounds of a hasty departure echoed out of the interior. The pipe rising out of
the back shook, and then all was quiet.

“Well,
hell.”

Allie
looked down. Slade knelt and reached into the interior. When he pulled his
hands out, he held what looked like a pile of debris, but there was no way that
was just debris. He was holding it too carefully for that. And as it was moving
of its own volition, probably alive. “Mr. and Mrs. Mouse have a family.”

Her
first instinct when he held them out to her was to scream bloody murder and
demand an instant end to the rodent population explosion, but then Slade parted
the top of the debris with his thumbs to reveal eight tiny, pale gray, helpless
little babies. “Why in hell do they have to be cute?”

Again
he cocked the eyebrow at her. She wondered if he knew how arrogant, and at the
same time sexy, the gesture made him. Not as sexy as Caleb, but enough to tug
at any woman’s interest.

“You’d
prefer them ugly?”

“Uh-huh.
Then maybe I wouldn’t find the thought of you smashing their skulls so
repulsive.”

He
cradled the babies against his chest. “No one’s smashing anyone’s skull.”

Well,
she hadn’t really been going to, but he didn’t have to look like she’d just
suggested offering up a blood sacrifice. “Then what are you going to do with
them?”

“The
parents won’t come back, so I guess I’ll just take care of them until it’s time
for them to find their way.”