Last Wolf Standing (28 page)

Eventually the plates were cleared, and Jeremy excused himself to go and check on Elliot—and just like that, reality crept back in…reminding Torrance that they were in the midst of a nightmare. Leaning back in his chair, Robert crossed his brawny arms over his gray sweater, his easy grin fading beneath a hard look of concern. “You told us you had more news when we got here, Mason. I think now’s the time to tell it.”

“Who’s Elliot?” Olivia asked, her smooth brow knitted with confusion.

“It’s a long story,” Mason replied, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.

His father gave him a sharp nod. “Then you had better get started.”

For the next ten minutes Mason related everything that they’d been through during the past three days. Olivia’s big brown eyes remained wide with horror as Mason explained about Simmons and Elliot, while his father’s expression took on a grim cast that would have scared the hell out of her, had she not seen for herself how easygoing he’d been during breakfast.

“So they’re using kids like this Elliot, all but blackmailing them into joining their ranks. Inflaming their natural meat lust, making them crave it—making them do things they would have never thought they’d do,” Mason said darkly. “We’re dealing with something that goes against the laws of the pack here. Jeremy and I both fought Simmons in broad daylight, and that bastard had his full wolf form. And he’s got a whole little gang of thugs following him, who can dayshift, as well—whose scent can’t be tracked. God only knows how he’s done it, but—”

“I do,” his father stated quietly, the words somehow seeming to hang heavily in the air between them. An uncomfortable feeling settled deeply in Torrance’s stomach, making her wish she could get up and leave the room, but she didn’t dare move.

Mason’s entire body held still as he stared at his father. “What do you mean, you do?”

“I know how it’s done,” his father said. “How to teach someone the way to dayshift, because it’s one of the first secrets revealed to an Elder. When a Lycan is taught the power of dayshifting, rather than coming into the power naturally as he nears the end of his life, as some do, it’s for the purpose of using him as a soldier—as a weapon of war. The reason you’ve never heard of it is because it’s been centuries since it was last used. When the Lycan transforms his body in daylight, he no longer produces the wolf’s natural musk. Instead, he gives off an acidic odor that deflects the ability of others to track him, giving him a double advantage.”

Mason shook his head, a dark look of betrayal washing over his rugged features. “You knew about this, and you’re only telling me now?”

Robert sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Mason, but it wasn’t my place to tell you.”

“No,” Mason grumbled, his voice thick with biting sarcasm. “As always your loyalty was to that goddamn League, even after they turned their back on you!” Looking toward Torrance, he explained his meaning. “It’s true. The man sitting beside you was once a young, powerful Elder…until the day he fell in love with my mother. Being a man of honor, he informed his peers and they rewarded his honesty by voting him off, believing that no Lycan could faithfully serve the pack when his heart belonged to the human world. And even though he knows it was bullshit, he remains dedicated to the same bastards who stabbed him in the back!”

“And you’d rather I spent my life hating the world?” his father roared, banging one beefy fist on the table so hard that both women jumped in their seats. “Why, Mason? I have love, a family—more than any man deserves. Your anger does me no honor. Not when I consider myself one of the most blessed men, be they human or Lycan, that I’ve ever known.”

“Mason, I know it’s difficult for you, but you’ve got to let the anger go. Enough’s enough,” his mother said gently. “Look at this wonderful girl. You’ve been given a gift. Don’t waste it.”

Mason stared at his mother, understanding what she was trying to tell him—but he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it. “Torrance has nothing to do with this,” he rasped, unable to ignore the crushing effect of his words on her.

“Wow,” Torrance said with a small, tight smile. “That sounds remarkably like my cue to leave. If you’ll excuse me, there’s something I need to do.”

“No, don’t leave,” his father rumbled. “Please, Torrance, stay. You’re a part of this, and you need to be a part of the conversation.”

“Really, Mr. Dillinger,” she said awkwardly, “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Don’t be silly,” his mother told her with a gentle smile, patting her arm. “It’s obvious you’re a mated pair, Torrance.” Looking toward her son, she said, “What I want to know is why you’re not a bonded pair. After what you’ve told us about Simmons, knowing her life is in danger, why in God’s name haven’t you made a blood bond with her, Mason?”

“Mother,” he said in a low tone of warning.

But Torrance was already saying, “Blood bond?”

“He hasn’t even explained it to you?” His father sighed, sounding weary with disappointment.

She shook her head, and Mason blew out a rough breath. “In the Lycan world, when a man finds his mate, he can permanently bind her to him by making a blood bond with her. He…bites her with his fangs, and in doing so, creates a deeper connection, a kind of metaphysical link between them that can never be broken.”

“Oh,” she whispered, the word heavy with awe. “I…I thought that if you bit someone, it changed them.”

“Not between mates. A Lycan male can’t change their human partner. But it binds them together forever, Torrance. It deepens their connection until they feel their other half even when they’re not with them.”

“Were you afraid to tell me, Mason?” she asked, the wounded look in her eyes crushing him. “Because of my nightmares?”

“That’s part of it,” he told her. “I would never ask you to do something like that, knowing how you feel about wolves.”

“How does she—?” his mother started to ask.

But Mason cut her off, saying, “But it’s also something I vowed a long time ago to never do, whether I ever found my mate or not. The bond creates an emotional link between the partners, one that—”

“One that’s based on love. Am I right?”

He stared at her for a long moment, then quietly said, “Yes.”

She made a low sound of understanding in her throat. “So that’s it, then?”

“Torrance, you don’t know the risk,” he growled, willing her to understand. “The connection between mates becomes stronger, but not without a price. If I’m killed, then you could die, too, following me into death. I won’t risk you that way. I won’t do that to you.”

“Jeremy, he told me about what happened to your brother. He called them a bonded pair. I just didn’t—I guess I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve figured it out…that there was something more.” She looked up at him through a sheen of tears. “That’s what Cian meant, wasn’t it? He knew you hadn’t bonded with me. They all know, don’t they?”

Feeling like a total shit, Mason gave her a jerky nod. “Yeah, they know. A Lycan can just…tell.”

“Not just a Lycan,” Olivia murmured, sending a look of disappointment in his direction. “I’m human, Mason, and it’s still clear to me that you’re—”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Torrance suddenly murmured, looking almost ill, “I have to go.”

“Torrance,” he growled, but she ignored him.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Dillinger,” she said with a quiet grace and poise that most women couldn’t have managed, considering she was not only hurt but probably furious with him for not explaining things to her sooner.

“Nice going,” his father snorted, shaking his head in disgust the second Torrance had fled the room. Mason knew that he’d hurt her again, but she’d still left with her head high, and a warm wave of admiration burned through him at the same time he felt like kicking his own ass—if he could only reach it.

“I’ve never been so disappointed in my entire life,” his mother scolded, as if he were still a child in need of discipline. “I didn’t raise you to act like an idiot, Mason. You’re breaking that poor girl’s heart. What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing’s the matter,” he gritted through his teeth, his fingers biting into the edge of the countertop at his back. “Other than the psychotic killer out there who wants to take that woman away from me! I’m scared to death of losing her.”

“Fear is sometimes healthy, Mason,” his father said with a sigh. “And sometimes it’s just an excuse to keep us back from the things we want most in life. Admit to the truth that’s in your heart. Bond with her. Make it right, son. Don’t be afraid of death. It finds us all in the end. All we can do is make the most of the time we have.”

“And love is what gives us the strength to overcome our fears,” his mother added. “What happened with Dean was a tragedy, but don’t let it hold you back from what you know is right. You’re the bravest man I know, Mason, and we’re so proud of you. But you have to trust in your love. If you can’t learn to do that, then you don’t deserve her. Don’t take a thing of beauty and turn it into something ugly. The bond can help keep her safe. Love can—”

“Love isn’t going to protect her!” he shouted, his hand making a cutting motion through the air, as if he could physically destroy the reality of that statement. “Love isn’t going to keep her alive!”

His father stared at him, then slowly gained his feet. “Let’s go home, Olivia. There’s no talking any sense into him when he’s like this.”

His mother pressed a kiss to his cheek, her smile sad, and they left, leaving him alone in the kitchen with nothing but his lousy mood and the anxious knot of fear in his gut for company.

He cast a short look at the coffeepot, then decided the situation called for something stronger. Opening the pantry, Mason pulled out the Lagavulin and poured himself two fingers in a glass. The first slow sip hit his mouth like fire, and he enjoyed the rich burn in his eyes and throat as Jeremy walked back into the room, Hennessey and Carter at his back.

“We saw your parents on our way in. What did the old man have to say?” Cian asked, folding his long body into a chair at the table, his left eye swollen and bruised from their late-night brawl. “Any news?”

A sardonic smile twisted his mouth and he turned, propping himself up against the counter, his legs crossed at the ankles. “Oh, he had news all right. Seems that ‘Dayshifting 101’ is a course taught to all members of the League of Elders. Each and every damn one of them. And it’s meant to be used as a weapon of war, the lack of a traceable scent caused by that damn acidic odor meant to give the Lycan an advantage as a soldier.”

“Holy…” Jeremy whispered, his hazel eyes huge as he considered the ramifications of that statement.

“Yeah.”

“Jesus. That means that whoever taught the skill to Simmons—”

“Is most likely someone on the League,” Cian finished for him, propping his leather-covered elbows on the gleaming surface of the table. “This just keeps getting deeper and deeper.”

“And Robert didn’t tell us this a long time ago, why?” Jeremy asked, scowling as he poured himself a drink, offering the bottle to both Cian and Brody, who shook their heads no. “That seems like a helluva piece of information to keep to himself.”

“Because he’s still loyal to the same assholes who abandoned him,” Mason grunted, unable to understand his father’s fierce sense of loyalty. “I think he was hoping we’d never learn.”

“Yeah, well, we did. The hard way,” Jeremy muttered, running his hand over his wounded throat.

“So, did he explain how to do it?” Brody asked, speaking up for the first time.

“No, and I didn’t ask. The League can have their secrets as far as I’m concerned. All I want is to track down the son of a bitch behind this and kill him.”

“So if it’s one of the Elders…” Cian murmured, his pale eyes sharp with thought as he leaned back in his chair, staring intently at the floor, as if he could find the answers there. “Which one?”

It was a good question, and there was no easy answer.

If war was being declared, the Bloodrunners would be all that stood between humanity and those who meant to hunt them down like prey, feeding upon them like cattle. They had to strike first. Had to put an end to this thing before it got too out of hand.

“Graham’s my father’s best friend,” Mason said heavily, speaking of the Lycan who served as the highest-ranking member of the League. “I practically grew up with him, and he’s too soft. I can’t imagine him being behind it.”

“Pippa Stanton is a sour old lemon, though,” Jeremy snorted, speaking of the lone female among the Elders. “I could see her playing the dominatrix role of an evil mastermind.”

“Watch it, Burns,” Cian drawled, giving an exaggerated shudder. “That dominatrix remark about such a foul old crone is going to give me nightmares.”

“Come on, Irish. I can’t imagine you afraid of a little domination,” Jeremy snickered, his hazel eyes glittering with humor.

“I like my women soft and easy,” the ebony-haired Runner declared in a slow slide of words, while the corner of his mouth twisted in a wry grin.

Mason snorted under his breath, throwing back his Scotch in one long, burning swallow. “You two mind if we stay on topic?”

“Well, there’s always old Clausen and Summers,” Brody murmured, rubbing two fingers against the end point of his scar, where it tapered across his jaw. “They’re both so backward in their beliefs, I’m surprised they can even see where they’re walking.”