Dark Wolf Unbound (Heart of the Shifter #2) (6 page)

Protectiveness surged through him, propelled by a dark sense of foreboding. Instinctively, he scanned their surroundings, making sure no one was following him...but he'd done that at the apartment, and he hadn't sensed the black wolf. "Talk to me, Abby. What don't I know?"

"I thought he was dead," she whispered. She glanced over at him, her eyes wide with the kind of fear that made outrage pour through him. "He was supposed to be dead."

"Who?"

"He...." She swallowed. "He's my sister's husband. Seth's father."

Son of a bitch. His
father
?

Taking on Grigori, who'd claimed the boy as his own kin was bad enough. But to add on a wolf protecting his own
son
? Jesus.

They were fucked.

A
bby looked over at Jace
, who had fallen into a fitful, painful sleep while she drove. He'd put on his leather jacket, but his skin was cold and ashen, and his energy was low. His ankle looked like it was destroyed. When he'd wrapped it, it had virtually crumbled beneath the bandages. Had his bones basically turned to dust from the two injuries? How could an alpha wolf survive on three legs? How would he defeat Grigori? After Lucius's trap and Jace's story about his past with Grigori, she knew they were both being hunted. It was simply a matter of whether she and Jace were caught before they found Seth. Either way, they were going to meet. When they did, someone would win, and someone would die.

She gripped the steering wheel, desperately trying to decide what to do about Jace. If she did nothing, he would be on three legs his whole life, a weakened state that would turn him into the hunted by other wolves. There was one person who might be able to help him, but he was from her past, the time when Grigori knew her.

Would Grigori guess she would go there?

He might.

But if she didn't... She touched her neck, grimacing at the torn skin. It wasn't a deadly bite, but it was significant. She was afraid of what Lucius had done to her. So deeply afraid.

How big was the risk if she asked for help? How significant was the impact if she didn't?

If she asked for help, they had a chance to survive. It was possible it would pay off.

If she didn't ask for help, it was guaranteed they would have no chance when Grigori or Lucius found them. What choice did she have?

None. Because hiding wasn't an option. Somewhere out there was Seth, four years old, in the hands of a madman that would strip him of his humanity within days. She had to seek out help, and just be very, very careful while she was there.

She looked over at Jace, then put on her blinker to turn off the main road, away from his house, away from the place he'd told her to go, and to the one destination he'd probably never agree to go.

As the truck bumped over the dirt road, she prayed she'd made the right choice.

If Lucius and Grigori were waiting for her when they arrived, the ending would come too fast, and they would lose.

T
hree hours later
, Abby emerged from the winding dirt road, slowing the SUV when she saw the familiar cabin hidden in the shadows of the tall pine trees. The shutters were askew. Vines had grown over the windows. Weeds owned the walkway. The windows were cracked, and no light shined from within. It looked like no one had set foot in there for decades.

Relief rushed through her.
Kiernan still lived there.

Warily, she pulled up in front of the cabin and turned the engine off. She scanned the woods around them, searching the shadows for any indications that Grigori or Lucius was waiting for her, but she didn't see any sign of them. The birds were chirping, the squirrels were bustling about, and all the forest creatures were acting normally, which they wouldn't if there was a wolf shifter in their midst.

She let out a deep sigh of relief, realizing that the first hurdle had been passed, for now.

"We're here?" Jace opened his eyes, and looked sleepily around. His entire body tensed, and he sat up quickly, sucking in his breath when he accidentally moved his leg. "Where are we?"

"A friend's place." Maybe a friend. Maybe an enemy. "He might be able to help. He's a gifted healer." Abby started to open her door, but Jace lunged across her, his hand clamping down on hers.

His grip was like steel, his silver eyes glittering with fury. "Don't open the door," he snapped. "We're leaving."

Despite his injury, power thrummed through him. His muscles were taut, his body a deadly machine. Awareness rippled through her, a deep awareness of exactly what kind of man he was. Despite his warning, she had mistaken his guilt and his injury for weakness. She'd seen him as a victim who needed help.

He wasn't.

He was pure alpha, and he was pissed. Heat rose from his body where he was leaning across her, his abdominal muscles hard and unyielding where he was pressed against her belly, pinning her to the seat.

She swallowed, her heart starting to pound at the intimacy of their position. It had been so long since she'd noticed a man, so long since she'd responded to one. Now was not the time, but there was something about Jace that shattered her shields and dragged her mercilessly under his spell. "Jace—"

His gaze went to hers, and something shifted in the air, something that turned intensely sexual, making heat lick through her body. She caught her breath, aware that his upper arm was against her breast, and he hadn't moved it away.

For a long moment, he didn't move, and neither did she. Tension hovered between them, heated, dangerous, and loaded. There was so much at stake, and yet she couldn't tear her gaze off his. Her entire body seemed to be wound into a tight knot of fire and heat, held in abeyance by the barest thread of self-control.

His gaze went to her mouth, then snapped back up to her face almost instantly, but the heat continued to rise from his body. "We're not safe here," he said, his low voice wrapping around her like an invisible caress. "Drive us out of here."

She swallowed, knowing it must be making him crazy that his injured ankle kept him from driving. "You can't heal your ankle on your own."

"I'm fine—"

"And I'm worried about my bite," she blurted out.

His gaze went to her throat, his brow furrowing as he inspected it. He still hadn't retreated, his body pressing her into the seat. "It's not deep—"

"It's not my first one from him." It was almost impossible for someone to become a shifter just from being bitten by one. But repeated, grievous injury from the same wolf was a different story, with the potential to turn the human into a shifter. Not all females with one shifter parent inherited the ability to shift. When it became apparent that she was one of those failures, Grigori had ordered Lucius to turn her into one by biting her repeatedly until the wolf proteins built up in her blood. She'd fought it desperately, because a bitten shifter always became a half-crazed werewolf, unable to contain their bloodlust. Those shifters were the ones that horrors of werewolf lore were founded upon.

His face darkened. "
What
?" His voice was clipped, taut with fury.

Crud. She hadn't meant to tell him. She didn't need his sympathy. All she wanted was to get out of the SUV and find Kiernan, praying that he would help. "Nothing. I just—"

His gaze went to her stomach, and she realized she'd pressed her hand over her old wounds. She winced as understanding flashed across his face. Damn him for being perceptive.

Scowling, he grasped the waistband of her shirt and started to pull it up.

She grabbed his wrist, holding his hand down, panic rippling through her. "No, don't."

No one ever got to see her stomach, and the last thing she could endure was Jace being the first one to see her truth.

J
ace froze
at the sudden fear in Abby's eyes when he grasped the hem of her shirt.

Her face had paled, and her grip on his wrist was desperate. Her fingernails were digging into his skin. Swearing under his breath, he went still, trying not to threaten her. She looked so vulnerable that his alpha protective instincts surged to the surface. He would not hurt her. He had to keep her safe. "Let me see," he said, keeping his voice gentle, letting her hear the strength he was offering her.

She shook her head. "No." She dismissed him quickly. "It's fine—"

"Abby. This is my world. I need to know." Foreboding was pressing heavily at him, the certainty that something was very wrong, that she'd been hiding so much from him. "Let me see," he said again.

Her eyes narrowed. "You're a persistent pain in the ass."

He grinned. "Yeah, I am."

"Fine, but only because I don't want to listen to your harassment for the next hour." She glared at him one more time, then she bit her lower lip and let her fingers slide off his wrist. Her bravado faded into vulnerability as she clasped her hands on top of her head and stared out the windshield, avoiding eye contact with him.

His heart softened at her stoic resignation, and he touched her jaw lightly to reassure her and connect them. The moment his fingers brushed over her skin, he went still, shocked by how soft her skin was. So fragile, so smooth, so delicate. Fierce protectiveness roared through him, a need to draw her into his inner circle and offer her the protection he was born to give.

Her gaze flicked toward him, and for a moment, time was suspended again. Every time he got close to her, he was trapped by the sheer intensity of his response to her. He was aware of her on every level as a woman. Every part of who he was responded to her. He needed to touch her, be with her, help her, and even claim her... except he had no right. He'd brought only hell and damnation upon her and her family. There was no way he was ever going to consider himself worthy of touching her the way he burned to.

But protecting her was different. That was what defined him: guardianship and preservation of those who had no other defenses, even if their most savage enemy was themselves. He'd fallen into the role of an alpha after rescuing assorted wayward shifters who were headed in bad directions. Killing Melissa had violated everything that mattered to him, and he owed everything to the woman in his arms.

Keeping his gaze on Abby's face, he gently clasped the hem of her shirt and tugged it upward. Her lips pressed together, but she didn't look away from his face, making his heart twist. She was looking at him like a cornered wolf pup, willing to trust him, but ready to fight back if she was proven wrong to put her faith in him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated as he pulled her shirt up to her breasts.

Her lips tightened, and she shrugged. "Whatever." Her nonchalance was superficial, hiding emotion she was determined not to share with him.

Damn. The damage ran deep in her, and it pissed him off. Gritting his jaw, he tore his gaze off hers and looked down at her stomach.

What he saw made fury thunder through him. Her skin was a mass of brutal, devastating scars that went from her breasts to below the waistband of her jeans. How was she still alive? "Son of a bitch, Abby. What happened to you?" But she didn't need to answer him. He knew. The crisscross of old scars were made by teeth, the deep, grievous injury of a wolf shifter trying to disembowel its prey. A fierce, white-hot rage burned through him, fury at what she'd suffered. His need to protect her deepened to a pulsating, powerful compulsion that radiated all the way from the depths of his soul.

He flattened his hand across the scars, as if he could shield her body from the attack that had happened so long ago. The skin was hard and ridged beneath his palms, stretched taut over the injuries. "Jesus, Abby," he said softly. "I'm so sorry."

She slipped her fingers through his hair, and he looked up. Tears were glistening in her eyes, tears that tore past his shields and plunged deep inside him. Swearing, he pressed his hand to her cheeks and brushed his thumb over a tear that trickled free. "I'm sorry," he said again.

A small smile flickered across her face, and she tightened her fingers in his hair. "The few times someone has seen my stomach, they've been repulsed by the ugliness of the scars, and by the horror of the incident that caused them. Everyone retreats, both physically and emotionally...but you didn't." She put her hand on his, which was still spread across her belly. "You touched me like you were trying to heal them and protect me. You poured warmth into me. You looked at me like...you still saw
me
."

He frowned. "Of course I see you. I already know you're courageous and loyal. Your ability to forgive is unheralded. Those scars were someone's attempt to destroy you, and you didn't let them. You're tough as hell, Abby, but at the same time, there's a kindness to you that still burns brightly despite everything." A wave of regret washed over him. "You deserve so much more than what I did to your family," he said quietly. "I know I can't make it right, but you have my oath that I will stand beside you and fight until you don't need me anymore."

She searched his face. "And then you'll kill yourself, won't you?"

He shrugged, not even caring about his future. Right now, all that mattered was Abby. "My duty is to others. If I'm not safe to be around, then it's my job to address that fact."

She sighed, tracing her finger along his jaw. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of her touch. As the pack alpha, he never showed weakness or softness, and no one ever offered it to him...until this moment. Until Abby touched his face so gently that he felt himself falling into the magic she wove around him. For a brief, fierce moment, he wished he'd never become an alpha. He wished he'd somehow found a life where a moment like this one was his reality, something he deserved, something he could have for more than a millisecond in his life.

"What if I could help you with that?" she asked.

"With what? Making this moment last forever?" Shit. Had he really just said that? He snapped his eyes open, and she was staring at him with a shocked look on her face.

Yeah, so apparently, he had just said that. Damn. He had no place fantasizing about that kind of shit. Swearing, he pulled back, reclaiming his side of the SUV. "Let's get going," he said, his voice rougher than he'd intended. "Back to my place. I don't like being out here."

She didn't move. "What if I could teach you to be stronger than the song? That's what I meant."

He went still, his entire body snapping into hypervigilance at the mention of the song that controlled him. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"Desensitization. I can sing it and you can practice resisting—"

"No!" He lunged across the seat and pressed his hand to her belly, pinning her to the seat. "Do you feel those scars?" he asked. "Do you? Because I can do so much worse than that. That song unleashed a monster inside me, and if you are
anywhere
near me when it happens, you're dead. Do you get it?
Dead.
"

"You're not like him," she said, her voice steady, not pulling away from his touch. "You're different."

"So different that I killed your sister? Your fucking
sister
, Abby. How can you forget that? I'm the monster.
I am the monster.
"

She didn't pull away. No look of horror crossed her face. In fact...she almost looked empathetic. "Jace—"

"Fuck this. Just fuck this." Why couldn't she understand how dangerous he was? Jace shoved open his car door and stepped out, keeping all his weight on his uninjured foot. He slammed the door behind him and leaned against the SUV. He clasped his hands on top of his head and took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

Didn't she see him for what he was? How on earth could she possibly suggest she sing that cursed song to him? She might believe that he could build an immunity to the song, but he knew better. He'd been inside his body when his wolf had taken over. He'd tasted the blood and wanted more. He'd stared into the eyes of her sister while he'd stolen her life, and he'd felt the primal roar of pleasure from his wolf. He'd heard the distant screams of horror from his soul, trying to stop the carnage, and he'd felt the deep satisfaction of his wolf when he'd crushed that pathetic spark of rebellion.

He was the one who'd lived through the moment when his moral code had lost the battle, willingly and completely, to the monster that the song had unleashed. He'd watched helplessly as he'd murdered Melissa, unable to stop himself even as his soul had screamed in horror. He knew the power of that song, and there was no fucking way he would ever trust himself around Abby or anyone else while that song was playing.

How the hell could she look at him and not see the monster he'd become? Instead, she saw only the man he'd tried and failed to be, and she was willing to risk her own life to prove he was the man she wanted him to be.

Desperation coursing through him, he stared up at the blue sky. "What the hell am I supposed to do?" He couldn't afford to be around her, but he owed her his help in finding a four-year-old boy who was out there somewhere in the grasp of a psychopath. As long as he was alive, innocents were at risk. He owed the world his death, but he couldn't help Abby and her nephew if he were dead. There was no way to die and help her at the same time. Her mention of the song was a brutal reminder of the predator he'd become, making it impossible for him to delude himself that he had a right to be with her, touching her, and accepting her trust.