Deceived By the Others (22 page)

It took an effort not to toss it into the flames burning cheerily in the fireplace. Instead, I took it with me outside and promptly tore it into quarters, dropping the shredded fragments of paper onto the mound of muddy clothes. They stuck to the wet soil, soaking up the moisture, but the title and my unmistakable scrawl were still clear enough that Chaz wouldn’t miss what he’d given up once he returned from the forest.

I spent the next hour or so feeding Kimberly’s clothing, piece by piece, into the flames. She’d probably end up borrowing clothes from one of the other Sunstrikers, but doing this gave me a sense of deep, abiding satisfaction anyway.

After the last piece was eaten up by the fire, I sat on the edge of the bed for most of the night, watching the bloated moon creep toward the horizon and the stars fade into day.

In the predawn light, Chaz stalked out of the forest, pausing in the clearing before the cabin. Despite my haze of anger, he still looked magnificent, a golden god of the forest prowling in glorious, unabashed nakedness through the last tendrils of mist fading in the gentle rays of morning sun. I watched through the window, though I made no move to get up to confront him. Particularly when Kimberly leapt with the grace of a doe out into the sun, every bit the creature of the woods that Chaz was. A hot flare of jealousy beat in my breast as she pressed a hand to his bare back. The other hand swept her enviably straight blond hair back in a casual gesture that only served to set every hated, perfectly shaped asset she had to jiggling in ways that would have sparked envy if I hadn’t been shaking with fury.

He wasn’t paying her any mind, though. In the space of a few seconds, his expression shifted from wariness to surprise to anger to chagrin as he spotted the pile of ruined clothes and the torn shreds of the contract that would have bound me to him, body, mind, heart, and soul.

He slowly knelt down to pick up the damp pages, running his fingers over them. I watched as he clenched the fragments in his fists. He turned away before I could get a good look, but I thought I detected a glitter in his eyes that looked suspiciously like tears.

He was gone before long, taking the soggy mess of clothing with him. She followed, saying something I couldn’t hear. The two were no doubt off to seek consolation from each other in privacy.

Some of the other Sunstrikers wandered by on their way to their cabins, looking tired and worn. Though I might have admired the lean bodies or been embarrassed by the nudity before this last hellish night, there was nothing left of me to be moved by the sight. Instead I sat dry-eyed, fingertips of the opposite hand playing over the tiny ridges of scabs on my left bicep.

Dillon was among those to pass by my cabin. He flashed me a vicious grin when he spotted me in the window. I didn’t give him the benefit of a reaction. His grin soon wavered as he found himself unable to meet my unflinching gaze.

There would be a reckoning between us, I was sure. It would come as soon as I made up my mind whether I wanted to carry out that revenge myself or let the law do it for me; either way, he wouldn’t survive it.

My unkind thoughts were disrupted by the sound of a woman’s angry scream echoing across the valley. Kimberly discovering her things were missing, no doubt. I didn’t bother to investigate, as some of the others outside were rushing off to do.

Some time later it dawned on me as I watched some of the Sunstrikers and their families wander past with bags and suitcases that I would need to figure out how to get home.

I had no cell phone to call Sara. Even after I cleaned the soda off the battery, Arnold’s computer wouldn’t boot up. The cost of a cab back to the city was far above and beyond my budget, and I hadn’t seen any car rental places in the tiny town—even if I felt like walking the miles of wooded track to wander around the streets in hopes of finding one. Mr. Cassidy might let me use his phone, but I’m sure he was none too pleased with the Sunstriker party, and the rest of the Cassidy family were probably not feeling too charitable toward their guests just now.

After a sleepless night, still in my bloody clothes, I wasn’t feeling brave enough to face the day. It stung when I remembered destroying the coffee pot in my efforts to stave off Dillon’s attack; even that simple pleasure would be denied me this morning.

Fighting tears, I collected some clean clothes and shambled into the bathroom, losing myself in the warmth of a shower. It woke me up a little, swept the remnants of last night’s fight from my skin, and gave me a chance to relax despite knowing I’d have to face the inevitable and speak to one of the Cassidys about finding a way home.

When I stepped out of the steaming bathroom wrapped in a towel, I very nearly screamed when I saw a hulking, menacing shadow hovering in the doorway.

Chaz stepped inside, holding up his hands. “Please, don’t start that again. I came to talk to you.”

He looked so earnest in the early morning light, dressed in someone else’s clothes. They didn’t quite fit him; the jeans hugged his hips and thighs too tightly, outlining the strong play of muscle beneath. In contrast, the shirt was too big; his fingertips dangled below the cuffs of the soft gray oxford sweater, a light sprinkle of chest hair peeking above the collar. His golden skin was perfectly smooth, his blue eyes radiating warmth and sincerity even as his lips turned in that babyish pout that I’d once found so very kissable and attractive.

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to retreat into the bathroom and slam the door in his face. Every moment he hesitated gave my anger time to reheat, the dying ashes flaring up with newfound life and purpose. It took a great deal of effort to stand there, dripping and cold, waiting for him to spit out whatever he wanted to say without screaming at him to get out and leave me the hell alone.

“Shia, I really don’t want to fight with you this morning. I know you need to get home, so I wanted to offer you a ride. All I ask is that you promise to let me talk on the way. No interruptions, no fighting, just let me have my say. Agreed?”

“I’ll find a ride with somebody else,” I snarled, backing into the protection of the bathroom. Before I could shut the door, his voice cut through my angry haze, stopping me in my tracks.

“No one else will take you. I already asked. And unless you want to rent a moving truck, there are no car rentals for twenty miles. Do you really want to make Sara or Arnold drive all the way out here to come get you?”

I closed my eyes, baring my teeth as I fought the urge to shout something decidedly uncomplimentary back at him in response. He was right, of course. I knew Sara’s schedule; even if I managed to reach her, she was supposed to be on a surveillance gig this afternoon until midnight. She would miss her mark, and a big paycheck, if she didn’t stick to her agenda. There was little doubt that Chaz was right about no one else being willing to take me; he must have already investigated ways to get me home without causing a scene if he’d looked into car rentals.

“Fine,” I said quietly, unclenching my fist when I realized my nails were cutting into my palms again. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed and pack.”

He inclined his head graciously, smiling like there was nothing wrong between us, like he hadn’t destroyed every last salvageable facet of our relationship last night. “I’ll get the car warmed up. Meet me in the parking lot.”

The bathroom door slammed shut behind me.

Chapter 22

I didn’t pay a lot of attention to what Chaz said on the way back. He talked nonstop for half an hour, explaining as I stared out the window at the passing trees and houses that being changed into a werewolf did something to your hormones, made you need sex and violence like drugs. All I’d walked in on was a quick, no-strings tryst. It was just an outlet, not a relationship. Not like what we had.

He knew how upsetting all this must be to me; he and Kimberly forgave me for my temper tantrum, though she’d like me to reimburse her for the clothing I’d destroyed. He, on the other hand, wouldn’t hold my rash acts of the moment against me.

He talked about how understanding Kimberly had been, how very gracious she was about the whole thing. That she’d taken it all in stride when he explained to her that he might be sharing his body with her, but his heart lay with me.

It was all flowery and flattering and passionate—and clearly horseshit. I didn’t believe any of it for a moment. His justifications were just that—a means for him to make it okay to cheat on me. The lengths to which he went to delude himself, coupled with the tiny voice screaming in the back of my mind about how I might have to seek him out during the next full moon for help, edged a spell of car sickness closer to a full-on bout of vertigo-inducing nausea.

When he figured out I wasn’t speaking to him, he quieted, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. I snuck a glance at him under my lashes; he wore the tiniest frown, biting the inside of his cheek as he sometimes did when stressed or uncertain what to say. It was a trait I’d once found remarkably endearing. Now the sight of him like that further roiled my already upset stomach.

It took a couple of hours for us to get back to the city. Thankfully, I didn’t barf. We made one pit stop on the way, otherwise shooting straight for home, with little said between us other than an acknowledgment of directions or curt remarks about stopping for gas or food. When we reached the heavy traffic on the New Jersey Turnpike that preceded the George Washington Bridge, he started talking again, this time with a touch of that trademark anger that called so easily to my own.

“Why aren’t you talking to me about this, Shia? Why can’t you accept what I am? I saw the contract—you very nearly did it. What’s so hard about letting me be who I really am? You know how perfect we are together. We can make this work.”

I thought about all those lazy afternoons spent in his arms, the nights we shared before I found out what he was and kicked him out of my apartment over a year ago. He’d been deceitful then, and I hadn’t given him an opportunity to explain himself or regain my good graces until my mom had intervened on his behalf at a badly timed moment. That led to his helping me fight the psychotic sorcerer planning to destroy or forcefully rule over all of the Others in New York, and me coming to realize that I’d been foolish to judge him for hiding his nature.

After all, my response to Chaz’s revelation was typical—he’d decided a little wining and dining would make me more responsive to the truth. That he chose to shift in front of me right after we’d had sex had only served to underscore how shocked and appalled I’d been about being blind to all the signs.

Now that I’d had my nose rubbed in the fact that his entire fucking pack knew he was cheating on me while I’d been busy obliviously agonizing over whether or not to sign a contract, it stung all the more. I was a private investigator who specialized in spotting and outing cheating spouses.

Don’t judge. Despite hours of boring surveillance work, it was often better paying and more interesting than insurance work.

That I’d missed all the signs with him—again—was a gut blow. It wounded far more than my pride. It cut down to the very core of who and what I considered myself to be—an ace P.I. with enough experience and know-how to spot the signs of a cheater without effort. Clearly I’d been deluding myself about that. Perhaps there were other things I’d been wrong about, too. This situation undermined everything about who and what I was—and for that, I could never forgive him.

“There is no ‘we’ anymore, Chaz. You burned that bridge and any other chance you might have had with me when you chose to lie and hide things from me.”

He glanced over at me, brows deeply furrowed over his eyes, though he seemed more puzzled than angry. “Don’t say that. I may not have talked to you about it, but I never lied. You forgave me for waiting to tell you about what I was. How is this so different? It’s just a different aspect of the same beast.”

“No, it’s not,” I said, fighting to keep my voice level. “It’s nothing like that. It’s true, before I knew what you were, I said some shitty things about Others. When I broke up with you, it was because I was pissed off at you for being manipulative and for hiding things from me. Acting like that makes you no better than Royce.”

That shut him up. The lines etched into his face, particularly the deepening crow’s-feet around his eyes, spoke of just how deeply I’d managed to wound him with that last comment. He hated Royce with a burning passion. Knowing that, I’d use it to the hilt. Maybe it was low, maybe it was unfair, and maybe it even made me a bitch—but at the moment, I was beyond caring. If it hurt him, I’d wield that knowledge against him, and gladly. Petty or not, at this point I was willing to do anything that might make him hurt the way he and his pack had hurt me.

“Royce,” I hissed, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “never—ever—treated me with the disrespect you’ve shown me. Never hurt me like you did. Even with the contract and the blood bond. How’s it feel to be lower than a leech?”

For the first time in his presence, I felt a thrill of fear for myself as Chaz raised his right hand off the steering wheel, clenching his fingers into such a tight fist that his knuckles popped. He’d never made such an overtly threatening move toward me before. I know his strength, so the move was sobering and had me withdrawing against the car door.

“Don’t you
ever
—”

His fist came down, cracking the dash. I jumped, staring wide-eyed at the indentation he’d left in the plastic.