Dire Desires: A Novel of the Eternal Wolf Clan (6 page)

He didn’t dare turn away from the monster, had no fucking clue what to do with the bowing hellhound presence. Finally, he told it, “Go hide. Don’t kill or hurt anyone. Tell the others to stand the fuck down. Wait for my call.”

The hellhound did some kind of doggy nod and disappeared quickly into the brush around the cemetery.

“How very military of you,” Jez drawled.

“You’re from London, not the south.”

“I’m versatile.”

“You’re fucking nuts.”

“I’ve been hanging around wolves for too long.” Jez still looked shaky as he lit a cigarette that looked suspiciously like one of Vice’s special hand rolls. “This is getting weird. We might have to ask Kate if you’re all evil again.”

“We can just ask Rogue,” Jinx said. “I’m guessing he’ll say yes.”

Jez sighed. “Why don’t you see if you can make sure Gillian doesn’t run again? Although I have a feeling she was running to you.”

It was then that Jinx realized his biggest fear wasn’t in the form of a monster, but rather, a mate.

I
nstinctively,
she knew where to find Jinx. In her old life, before the hospitals and the drugs, if anyone told her she’d be running through a creepy cemetery in the middle of the night alone, she’d have laughed. She probably would’ve been drinking at the time, in some kind of underground rave party with all the hangers-on who wanted to be called her friends because of her name and the money and perks that went along with that.

She let them, because it didn’t cost her a dime, and she’d never let them inside where it mattered anyway. She’d learned from a young age that everyone wanted something from her, but that didn’t mean she had to give it to them.

Here—he’s here.

Her warrior was standing, tall and proud, his stance one of battle. And although she didn’t see any imminent threat, she certainly felt one.

Her heartbeat pounded inside her ears, her toes dug the grass as her muscles tensed. She felt the urge to rescue him in much the same way he had her, but the rustling in her ears grew loud and she wasn’t sure what to do.

He sensed her, but he didn’t turn around, not right away. When he finally did, his expression was serious but his eyes . . . they glowed.

•   •   •

She wore what mus
t be Gwen’s clothes. As much as he wanted to see her naked, he was glad she wasn’t, because they weren’t alone.

Once acknowledged, she strode across the space that separated them like she owned it.

She was mesmerizing and when you were trying to tame a hellhound, it wasn’t the best time to be distracted.

Maybe your fear isn’t going to come in the form of a monster.

“You’re angry,” she murmured when she got close.

“No. Worried.”

“Don’t be.”

She was so goddamned pretty. His instinct was to fall to his damned knees and take her down with him, Jez and hellhounds be damned. Even Brother Wolf egged him on and it took him a long moment to gain control. “Gillian,” was all he could say before he brought his mouth down on hers.

So much for control. Jez would have to deal.

Her hands wrapped around his neck as he pulled her close. Her body molded to his perfectly, a fit he’d never thought possible.

I’m the worst possible wolf for her.

And that didn’t stop him from playing his tongue along hers, his canines elongating just enough to scrape her lip, a sign that Brother Wolf wanted to claim her too. His cock hardened and she moved her hips to rock against him. He ran his hands along her sides, cupped a breast before realizing that if he didn’t stop soon, he wouldn’t be able to.

When he pulled back, she put her hands on either side of his face and stared at him. “You’re worried.”

“About you, yes. Because you shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“I’ve always been alone. But now, I’m with you.”

Ah Christ. “Gillian—”

“You feel it too, when we’re together. It happened back at the hospital. That’s never happened to me.”

She was so much like the Dire women of old. Strong. Self-assured. Fate at first sight didn’t happen often, but they’d locked and loaded onto each other in the hospital room and nothing was going to change that.

He wasn’t worthy of this. She was nobility. Royalty. “It’s never happened to me either.”

“I couldn’t help leaving to find you.”

“I’m glad you did,” he admitted.

“The doctor—Gwen—said you were working.”

She was absorbing the Dire culture so quickly—being around him would make everything happen faster for her. She’d scented him here, and she knew instinctively that he was hunting.

“She’s right.”

“You’re hunting ghosts.” Her eyes flashed for a second and he swore he saw them change. Prayed it was a trick of light.

“Yes. I’ll tell you more, but we should get out of here.”

“I was worried about you. You were fighting, I think. I didn’t see anything but I feel . . .” She trailed off, shivered.

“Those are the ghosts.”

“And the monster?”

“What do you know about that?”

“They talked about it. At the hospital. I never saw it but a lot of them did.” She slid her hand into his like it was the most natural thing in the world as they walked, with Jez several steps ahead of them. “I don’t want to go back there.”

“To the hospital? You won’t.”

“No, to the house with Gwen.”

“Did something happen?” he heard himself demand with a growl to his tone so fierce Jez stopped walking for a second and turned to look at him with warning.

Yeah, Brother Wolf, back it down.

If Gillian noticed, she took it in stride. “No, they all seem nice. I just want to stay with you.”

“You met all of them?”

“Lots of males. They were big, like you. But none of them were you,” she said quietly. “I wanted to go outside, but Gwen told me I couldn’t. So I left.”

“And they followed you,” Jinx said, noting Rifter’s truck. Vice would’ve been the first one on her tail, but he was no doubt helping Liam get ready.

Liam. Cyd. Cain. Jinx felt the guilt of not being there ball in his stomach. As if sensing this, Gillian squeezed his hand a little tighter.

“That’s Rifter. He’s my . . . boss. Both he and Gwen are.” Technically, it was the truth.

Rifter came toward them and Jinx willed himself not to growl as he got close. But the possessive feelings couldn’t be ignored or tamed.

Gwen must’ve mentioned it to the king, because Rifter stayed at a respectable distance as he spoke. “Gillian, you scared the hell out of us.”

“I can’t believe a girl gave you the slip,” Jez said and Rifter growled at him. Jez crossed his arms and looked unimpressed.

“You’ve got to go back to the house,” Jinx told her.

“No, I don’t. I won’t.”

She might only be out of prison because of him, but she wasn’t giving up any other freedoms easily, if at all. Hell, he was lucky she wanted to stick close to him, because her Houdini act was hard to top.

“It’s dangerous, Gillian,” Rifter said. “You don’t understand yet—”

“I’m staying with Jinx.” Her words were firm and for a long moment, the king pondered in silence. Finally, he nodded his consent.

He hadn’t asked Jinx to come back and stay at the mansion, which was a relief.

“Fine. But Jinx, you need to report in and make preparations. Come use the yard, the woods at night. Much safer,” Rifter said.

Jinx nodded and Gillian smiled at him. “Will you get in the truck with Jez? I’ll be right there.”

Jez motioned to her and she nodded, slipped her hand from his. He immediately missed the contact.

“Thank you for bringing her to Gwen, instead of asking Gwen to come to you,” Rifter said. “We both know she would’ve done it.”

Jinx nodded, didn’t know what else to say.

“You know Rogue is awake.”

“I saw him when I left the mansion, yes.”

Rifter opened his mouth as if to say something else, but stopped. Jinx broke in with, “Liam’s going to fight any time now.”

“Yes.”

And you should be with him and your twins
was the unspoken phrase. More guilt.

“I’ll make sure her shift is smooth. I’ll try to have her at the mansion when it happens,” Jinx told his king, because he owed the man, his brother in arms, that, if not more. Rifter nodded and dismissed him. Jinx ran his hand along the deep scars on the side of his neck that Rifter had given him recently and knew that nothing between them would ever be the same.

I
t w
as close to three in the morning, Vice’s favorite time of night and it was rapidly becoming Liam’s as well. That afternoon, Liam had captured a young Were who’d been working with the outlaw wolves. In doing so, he gained valuable intel on his biggest enemies, Tals and Walker, the wolves in charge of the outlaw werepack currently trying to oust Liam as rightful king. Now, with only the sliver of a moon for company, Liam was tense—Cyd, not much better.

Cain, his omega, was remarkably calm, which Liam took to mean they were on the right path, hopefully both literally and figuratively. Their truck cut through the night quietly, purposefully as Cain drove them and Cyd remained in the backseat, armed and dangerous.

The twins had permission from Jinx to fight. Cyd had proven his control a couple of months earlier when he took down a rogue Were who threatened Jinx and the entire werepack with his actions, and again during Seb’s most recent attempt to take over the town. But tonight’s fight would be different, enough to push a Were who’d suffered from moon craze over the edge.

Cain was worried about his twin, Liam knew, and Liam wasn’t sure if he was as worried about himself. But they’d made their decision about tonight—none of them were immortal and all three had to be prepared to suffer life-threatening injuries during a kill like this.

Was anyone really prepared?
Liam wondered now. His father hadn’t been—Liam could still hear the man’s screams echoing in his ears, his death anything but peaceful.

“What are you doing with Max?” Cain asked him as they neared their destination, ripping him from his heartbreaking reverie and throwing him into another one of almost equal pain.

“I can’t answer that now. How the hell can you ask me that at a time like this?” Liam ran his hands through his hair and he heard Cyd’s muffled curse from the backseat. No doubt that alpha was as pissed as he was for Cain’s question, but the omega was undeterred, and undaunted.

“You have to. You need to be decisive in every damned thing you do,” Cain said, his voice strong and sure.

The pain of having Max, his mate—his human mate—cheat on him with an outlaw wolf was something that could rip Liam’s heart out if he thought about it too much, which was why he’d been avoiding anything to do with the subject of her unborn son.

“You let that pup out of your sight, he’s going to come back and kill you,” Cain told him.

“You’re a soothsayer now?” Liam demanded.

“You know I’m telling the truth, right?”

Liam thought about Max and the last time he’d seen her, holding her swollen belly and staring out the window. “He could kill me either way when he finds out what I did to his father and mother.”

“I guess you’ve made the decision on what you’re doing with the human. But the baby, keep him close.” Cain spoke quietly but every word was a boom to Liam’s ears.

“And what? Lock it up?” Liam asked.

“You could raise it as yours,” Cain agreed.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nature, nurture.” Cain paused. “You don’t know what kind of half wolf you’ll be turning away. Sometimes, it pays to keep your enemies close.”

“The Dires took us in when our own Weres didn’t want us,” Cyd said. “I don’t think they made the wrong choice.”

“The Dires can’t die,” Liam pointed out and the twins left him in silence for the rest of the trip, with Cain’s favorite Floyd,
The Dark Side of the Moon
, playing.

Liam let him have that. Stared out the window at the dark road ahead and thought about his night to come—and the long stretch of road that lay after it.

He was charged with getting all the Weres to follow him, without question. He wouldn’t tell the majority of the Weres about what their mission was until their loyalty was completely secured.

Even then, it was a risk.

Half the Manhattan pack was behind him. Another quarter was undecided and the rest were decidedly rebelling with Tals and Walker leading them after Liam had killed Teague, who’d been the real leader of the outlaws.

Which was why those wolves needed to die.

“I’m ready,” Liam said, not bothering to ask Cyd or Cain if they were. They had to be, if for no other reason than the man they’d decided to call their king was, and the two fell into step next to him.

Flanked by Cyd and Cain, he prepared for his first official act as king. His first unofficial one had been killing Teague weeks ago, after which he’d announced his intentions to take over for his father—and to kill every single outlaw unless they renounced their new leaders and came back under his pack’s protection.

Liam had already made a statement to the outlaw werepack by killing Teague in front of Max. And while he hadn’t made up his mind about her child, if he didn’t kill Max—as was his right since she was his mate and she’d betrayed him—he would lose a great deal of the ground he’d gained establishing himself as the successor to the crown as king of the alphas.

Too young . . . not strong enough . . . not ready.
Liam saw red when he heard those words. And he was willing to go balls to the wall to prove himself.

He and Cain and Cyd planned their ambush with only a few hours notice, staked out Tals and Walker, who met only once a week under heavy guard since Teague was killed.

The first group of wolves they encountered was twenty feet from the small house, the guards for the outlaw pack. Boys he’d grown up with. His throat tightened at their betrayal but he forced himself to remain calm. He would give them a single chance at life. They deserved only that, or maybe not even, but he would toughen with each kill, Vice promised him.

Come to think of it, Vice hadn’t looked happy about that.

Now, Liam stood in front of the small pack of young wolves who he knew wouldn’t back down easily. It was necessary to pull them back from outlaw-ville, or take them out completely.

“Where’s your Dire backup?” one Were sneered at him. Able, a wolf three years younger and several inches shorter, with a big mouth and an even bigger attitude.

Liam told him, “I’ve got my own pack. I’m the new king. Abide by my law or die by my hands.”

The smallest one paled, but the others couldn’t let down their show of bravado. Liam watched the five Weres come toward him as the smallest lagged behind, knew this would be a violent, frightening show for all, especially if he let himself go the way Vice had taught him.

“I guess your decision’s made,” Liam said, and then he struck, faster than he’d ever thought possible, with a decisive energy that seemed to stun the Weres. Two went down with broken necks before Cyd jumped in, and then Liam took out Able as Cyd and Cain each made their own kills.

“Your name,” Liam demanded of the small Were.

“Pat,” he answered.

“Don’t move—you’re my witness. Move and die, understand?” Liam asked and Pat nodded as Cyd and Cain moved past him to infiltrate the house and get rid of the guards.

As king, Liam needed to allow his pack to keep him safe, to do some of the dirtier work. And so he hung back, knowing Cyd and Cain wanted to prove themselves to him as much as to themselves, watched his Weres infiltrate and kill the guards.

Seconds later, Cyd and Cain were dragging a surprised Tals and Walker out, the young twins’ strength and fighting skills far surpassing what it should be at their age, thanks to their training from the Dires.

While Tals and Walker looked cocky when the twins let them go in front of Liam, he knew they didn’t have the fire, the need to prove themselves. There was so much pent-up anger inside Liam, he could take them on one by one and it wouldn’t be enough.

He’d planned a brutal assault. There wasn’t a chance of a fair fight. This was a message—and if it turned into a bloodbath, so be it. “You’ll die tonight—and it will be a lesson to other Weres to not disobey their king.”

Tals snorted. “We don’t recognize you as our king, little boy.”

“You were just dragged out here like a sack of beans, so I’d watch who you’re calling little.” Liam cocked his head and stared down the two men, knew his eyes had turned lupine.

Knew there was no turning back as a newfound strength roared through his body like a freight train—heavy, well greased and unstoppable forward motion. The rage was a focused one, a steadily mounting sense of what he needed to do to avenge his father’s death and take back his role.

He would take Tals, because Tals killed his father. “Walker’s yours, Cyd,” he told the alpha Were, and Cyd didn’t hesitate.

Cain stood guard and kept an eye on Pat as Liam circled Tals.

“Just because you took down Teague doesn’t mean I’m as weak.”

“Prove it,” Liam urged, and when Tals lunged, Liam faked left and took him down with a hard elbow to the back. Then he threw his body on the prone wolf and all hell broke loose.

Tals fought. He was excellent—Liam had sparred with him before. But this time, Liam took no prisoners. As his hands tightened to fists, he grabbed Tals and began slamming his face until his human form was a bloody, bleeding pulp with no doubt every bone broken and then he hit him some more.

We tortured your father until he begged to die.

Liam knew—he’d heard all of it, allowed himself to crawl away only when his father’s screams stopped.

Jinx assured him that Linus had passed, crossed over successfully. At least he knew his father was in that place of peace he deserved.

Tals was headed where he deserved, too. Liam was sure of it. He’d taken Liam’s family, no doubt encouraged and laughed when Teague had taken his mate.

Liam had the wolf by the neck and squeezed until Tals bucked frantically under him. “You didn’t give my father the chance to fight. I’m returning the favor.”

“Liam . . . we were friends,” Tals managed through his mangled mouth.

Technically, that was true—Liam had been closest with the man currently bleeding underneath him. “We were never friends,” he spat back as his canines elongated and he ripped the man’s throat out, felt the life slip away from Tals even as the alpha leader inside of him stood up and finally reared his head.

You were meant for this,
his father’s voice echoed in his head. He’d heard it a million times growing up, but it was hard to believe it when you really didn’t feel it.

There was no mistaking it now. Taking this action had not only been right, but just.

He didn’t stop there, ripped the wolf limb from limb. Before he tore Tals’s head off, he turned to see Cain holding the mounting spike at the ready, an old Were tradition.

In his haze, Liam could see the light Cain was bathed in, a thin shadow that glowed like a protective skin.

Tradition said only the true pack alpha could see the omega’s glow. Cyd and the Dires swore it was there and Liam had been ashamed to admit he couldn’t see it.

But now that he could, he was even more determined that he was doing the right thing. Blood and sweat mixed with tears of rage and revenge, ran in rivulets down his face and neck. He tasted the metallic tang and his wolf wanted out.

Vice told him that Weres had no control, not like the Dires, but that Liam could learn some measures of control. He didn’t want the out-of-control wolf to take him over. No, he wanted to be in control, to take the wheel, to be present for every brutal punch he threw.

He wanted to never forget.

Liam twisted Tals’s head with a roar, ripped it from the man’s body. As the blood covered him, his eyes turned, his chest coated and he and Cyd both looked like primitive gladiators. There was enough gore on the field for a horror movie.

Now, Cain held two spikes steady and Liam and Cyd mounted their enemies’ heads, prepared to wrap and drag the pieces of the bodies behind them on tarps to the meeting with the outlaws that Liam had called before this fight.

“This is what we’ll do to any and all who betray our kind,” Liam growled at Pat now. “Pass it along. It’s the only reason I’m letting you live.”

The Were who’d witnessed the brutal battle scampered off and Liam had no doubt the tales he’d tell. Liam’s legend was just beginning. The bodies in the middle of the outlaws’ clubhouse to be discovered soon would tell the rest of the story.

He fully expected there would be noncompliant wolves—he would do this, killing one by one until he reigned with an iron fist. This wasn’t the time for forgiveness—it was a time for war.

Liam and his new pack would win it, battle by battle, not caring if he was soaked in the blood of his enemies. This was a message to any other Were who was thinking of rebelling, and it was also a risk, but one Liam needed to take.

“Fine job, king,” Cain told him. “Fine damned job.”

•   •   •

The packs would talk about this forever. Vice knew that a
s surely as he did his vices.

His canines elongated with the violence, the smell of shed blood. The scene in front of him had been so fucking brutal that he was both hard as hell and sick to his stomach, his emotions swinging on a violent pendulum of their own.

It had taken every ounce of self-control he had, which wasn’t much, to not join in the fray. Brother Wolf was mainly responsible for holding him back this time, because his wolf trained with Liam’s.

There are some things a pup has to do alone,
Brother Wolf said, and besides, Liam wasn’t alone. He had an alpha and his omega and he had to come into his own at some point.

Doesn’t mean you’re not needed—now, more than ever,
Brother Wolf said and Vice sighed as his wolf saw right through him. As much as Vice had fought the pairing at first, spending time with the wolf pup who would be king was good for him. Spending any amount of time with someone balanced was always a plus, and although those effects were only in the short term, Vice still liked how it felt.

But his emotional pendulum swung the other way more quickly than he thought and sorrow washed over him as he watched his charge—and Jinx’s—covered with blood, eyes still lupine and fierce, howling with all the frenzied power and lust that came with victory.

Cyd looked . . . stronger. The kill he’d made had brought out more of his inner alpha. Vice wondered how long he’d stay with Liam’s pack before breaking off into his own. The omega was gaining power too, and it should’ve been the signal of good things to come.