The Road to Redemption (29 page)

A part of her
winced at the thought. Her inner wolf had a limited tolerance for
lies, even to herself.

Okay, perhaps
Damien might be slightly more than entertainment, but she wasn’t
yet ready to examine exactly what else he might be either. That was
a road best left explored another day. If there was one thing she’d
learned in her years as acting Alpha, it was not to count too
heavily on the future. And anything involving Damien was definitely
for the future. Right now she had enough to deal with.

Damien inhaled
deeply and sighed it out. She propped herself on her elbow to
better see him.

“Hey. You were
pretty good.” She gave him a crooked smile and brushed a lock of
hair from his forehead.

He stared at
her for a moment, the expression in his half hooded eyes
unfathomable before he shifted his gaze to stare at the ceiling.
“Thanks.” Abruptly, he sat up and turned away, leaving her with a
fine view of his back. He ran his hand through his hair and looked
about distractedly.

Sam waited a
beat before prompting him. “I think this is when you’re supposed to
say I was good, too. Maybe even fantastic.” She traced an imaginary
line between the two tiny dimples above his butt. His demeanour
puzzled her, but she tried not to show it.

“Yeah. It was
fine.” He tossed the comment over his shoulder while leaning
forward and snagging his pants. Rising to his feet, he pulled them
on, never once looking her way.

Sam sat up,
uncaring that she was naked, exposed to his glance should he care
to look. “Damned by faint praise, am I?” She replied lightly,
giving no hint of the hurt that was growing inside her. This wasn’t
how the script was supposed to go.

“Sorry.” He
cleared his throat but kept his back to her. When he spoke his
voice sounded tight, strained. “I’ve got a few things I have to do.
I’ll talk to you later.” Without looking back, he exited the
cellar, sliding the door quietly shut behind him, leaving Sam
frowning at the wooden panel.

She blinked
and raised her chin, unwilling to acknowledge the tears that stung
her eyes. Just as she’d suspected, all those stupid romances were
wrong. In her heart she’d known it, but hadn’t expected them to be
quite this far from the truth.

Slowly, she
stood up and gathered her discarded clothes. She could see her
reflection in the mirrors that lined the one side of the room. Hair
tousled, the beginnings of a pink rash on her skin from his
whiskers, faint smears of blood on her inner thighs.

Grabbing her
discarded water bottle, she dampened the towel she’d used earlier
and wiped away the evidence of her folly before getting dressed.
Staring at the stained material she let a bitter laugh escape her.
In the olden days, it would have been displayed proudly as proof
that the Alpha had mated. But not in present day Chicago. Here, the
sign of her ‘sacrifice’—or was that stupidity—was going to be
bundled up and thrown in the garbage. Thankfully, the cellar had a
secret passageway that would take her to her room. She’d hate to
have to explain to her pack mates why she was carrying a blood
stained towel through the house.

Self-loathing tore at his gut.

He was a
bastard.

A fucking
bastard who’d just betrayed the only woman who’d ever loved him.
Beth had accepted him, believed in him, loved him no matter what.
And what had he done with her faith? He’d tossed it aside, let lust
take over and cloud his judgement.

Could he
possibly sink any lower than to have sex with Sam Harper?

Damien paused
outside the cellar, pinching the bridge of his nose and fighting to
keep from throwing up. Damn, what had he done?

He took a deep
breath and willed the contents of his stomach back down. He had to
get out of here. Should he take his Harley…? No, he was in no
condition to drive. Forcing his legs to move, he headed inside,
seeking the sanctuary of his room.

“Damien? Have
you seen Sam?” Florence’s voice drifted to him from somewhere near
the front of the house. He didn’t respond. He couldn’t talk to
anyone right now, especially not about Sam.

He quickened
his pace. It wouldn’t surprise him if Sam came looking for him any
minute and, when she found him, she’d probably rip him a new one.
While he might deserve it, he couldn’t handle it right now.

A dark,
sardonic laugh escaped him as he imagined the fire spitting from
her eyes. What were the chances that any of her previous lovers had
ever walked away from her? But then again, her previous lovers most
likely weren’t dying inside from guilt.

“
Ours?”
His wolf pronounced the word half questioning, half as a claim,
puzzled over how to deal with what had happened. They’d had a mate
before and had now claimed this female...

Damien jerked
his head in denial. No. They hadn’t claimed her. Sam was just… He
scrubbed his hand over his face, not knowing the answer.

Hell, what a
mess.

He stepped
into his room and shut the door, relieved he hadn’t encountered
anyone. The relief was short lived. His gaze immediately went to
the night stand where his wallet lay, and the heavy weight of guilt
crashed down upon him once again, removing the strength from his
legs.

Slumping back
against the door, he buried his head in his hands and cursed
himself. He always had Beth’s picture with him, but for some reason
this morning he hadn’t taken his wallet along. And now he’d
betrayed her.

For three
years his libido had been dead. It had died, along with his heart
and his will to live, in the fiery blaze that had claimed his Beth.
He’d lost everything that day and now... Now he’d lost something
else. He’d vowed to always be faithful to her, to never forget
her...

Shit! Couldn’t
he even do this one thing right? He turned and buried his fist into
the wall, welcoming the physical pain of bruised knuckles and
aching wrist. Plaster dust floated in the air and he stared
disinterestedly at the cracks that appeared around the hole he’d
created.

The corner of
his lip curled in a sneer at the sight. A hole, with cracked and
jagged edges. How poetic; it was just like his heart. An empty,
broken place in his chest.

Pressing his
forehead against the damaged surface, he closed his eyes and slowly
rocked his head from side to side while whispering his
confession.

“I’m sorry,
Beth. I didn’t mean to. Sam was there. We were joking around. She
was teasing me and I…I wasn’t thinking, I just reacted...” He
twisted his lips. “You remember how I’d do that, don’t you? You
were always telling me to stop and think first.”

He didn’t even
try to hold back the tears that stung his eyes. “I miss you so
much, Beth. I miss having you by my side, having someone to hold at
night, someone I can connect with. Sometimes, I…I’m so damned
lonely.” His voice broke as emotion overwhelmed him. The years
stretched ahead, years spent without companionship, bleak and
barren. His inner wolf threw back its head and howled in
despair.

A black pit
was opening before him. Three years ago, he’d wallowed in it, but
lately it had seemed to grow smaller, less noticeable. Now it
loomed in front of him again, beckoning, urging him to step forward
and lose himself in the darkness once more.

Pushing off
from the wall, he headed for the bedside table and yanked open the
drawer. A bottle of whiskey sat inside; the strong stuff, not the
watered down crap humans drank. He hadn’t had a drop since his
first night at the pack house, having felt the need to keep his
wits about him when Sam was around. Now, he only wanted to
escape.

Throwing
himself down on the bed, he propped himself up on the headboard and
twisted off the cap. The scent of alcohol hit him and he hesitated
for a moment before raising the bottle to his lips. What did it
matter if he got roaring drunk or not?

As the liquid
burnt its way to his stomach, he closed his eyes and tried to bring
Beth’s image to mind. She was there, just beyond his reach, looking
at him with her dove grey eyes. Her fingers would brush his hair
from his forehead and then she’d kiss his lips softly.

‘
Never
forget…love… Never forget to love…’

Sam slammed
her glass down on the bar at Club Mystique and signalled for
another. She sat alone at the polished wooden surface; a popular
song was now playing and almost everyone was on the dance floor
enjoying the throbbing music. It was just as well that they kept
their distance; given the mood she was in, it wouldn’t take much
for someone to set her off.

Gwyneth, the
tall, redheaded owner, poured Sam another drink and served it with
a look of disapproval. “Don’t be thinking of getting drunk here,
werewolf. I run a respectable establishment.”

“Stuff the
holier-than-thou act, witch.”

“Better a
witch than a bitch.”

Sam started to
snarl but stopped when she caught the look on Gwyneth’s face. The
damned woman might just put some sort of hex on her and that was
all she needed right now.

Taking a gulp
of her drink, Sam nodded. “I’m not here to cause trouble. Just
waiting for Tina.”

“I figured as
much. Her shift starts in five; behave until then.”

Sam watched
the woman as she walked away. The owner was a no nonsense person
who was equally acerbic to Lycans, Fae and Witches alike. Gwyneth
had established the club years ago as a place where shifters and
others could meet individuals of their own kind while in the city.
The only requirement was that everyone kept their unique abilities
safely tucked away. If a DC officer had to be called in, you were
banned for life. The human patrons couldn’t have any idea that they
were rubbing elbows with the magical realm.

Well, she had
no plans to cause problems at the club. Her day was crappy enough
as it was. Drawing idle patterns in the condensation on the bar,
Sam mulled over how Damien had walked away from her after having
sex. What had gone wrong? She wasn’t the kind to mope and cry, she
was more the beating-somebody’s-ass kind, but before she did that,
she needed a voice of reason.

Ha! Tina, a
voice of reason? Now there was an oxymoron, but she really didn’t
have anyone else to turn to. Telling any of the pack members about
having sex with Damien would only stir up speculation and trouble.
And, of course, it would get back to her grandfather, and there was
no way she wanted to deal with the crap he’d give her.

“Hey, Sam!
What’s up? Gwyneth says you’re in a funk and drinking yourself into
a stupor.”

Sam looked up
to see her friend adorned in skin-tight silver lame topped with
shocking pink hair. Tina’s appearance caused a momentary smile.
“I’m in a funk, but not even close to a stupor; not on this watered
down crap she serves.”

“Yeah, well at
least half the people here are human, so watered down crap is all
they can handle.”

Sam made a
non-committal sound, the smile fading from her lips. She took
another sip from her glass.

“So, what can
I do for you?” Tina settled down beside her. “I’ve got a few
minutes before my shift starts.”

“I need
advice…on men.” Sam winced, unable to believe she’d actually
managed to get the words out.

Tina began to
grin. “Advice on men? Is it that rogue you hired? I caught a
glimpse of him when you guys left the other night. He’s a
hottie.”

“Yeah. That’s
the guy. I had sex with him.”

“You had—”
Tina looked at her, speechless.

Sam flicked a
glance at Tina, taking in her shocked expression. “Shut your mouth,
you look stupid.” She scowled down at her drink, feeling
inexplicably embarrassed by the whole conversation. In a rush, she
delivered all the important details. “We had sex. He was my first,
but I doubt he knows it. Afterwards, he got up and left without a
word.” She twisted her lips. “No, wait. That’s not quite true. He
said it was ‘fine’, that he had things to do and would talk to me
later.”

“Bastard!”
Tina spit out the word. “Want me to hex him or—”

“I thought you
said you’d sworn off all that hexing stuff.” Sam looked up from her
drink.

“I
did…temporarily. But I’d be willing to dig out my old books for
you.”

“Thanks.
Unfortunately, I still need him, for a while at least.”

“So…what are
you going to do?”

Sam shrugged.
“I don’t know and that’s what’s driving me crazy. I’m the Alpha.
I’m supposed to know these things.” She turned in her seat to face
her friend. “That’s why I came to see you. What would you do?”

“If I didn’t
hex him?” Tina tapped her neon pink fingernail against her lips. “I
suppose I’d put the whole thing behind me, try to avoid him if
possible.”

“I can’t do
that. I have to work with him.”

“Bummer. Act
like nothing happened?” She gave a one shouldered shrug. “Sorry,
this is beyond my experience.”

Sam sighed.
“It figures that my first lover would be a dud. I’m so not good
with the whole ‘girly-girl’ thing.”

“A guy that
hot was a dud? You mean he didn’t even get you off?”

“No. He got me
off. And from what I’ve read it ranked in the superb range.”

“Well, at
least that’s something.” Tina gave her a friendly shoulder nudge.
“My first was that football jock I had a crush on back in high
school. Remember? He had no technique, finished before I started
and then dumped me a week later.”

“You wanted me
to beat him up.” Sam smiled at the memory.

“And you
wouldn’t. You said it wouldn’t be fair and that it might break your
Keeping rule.”

“I did
sabotage his car for you, though.”

“I know.”

They exchanged
looks and laughed as they recalled the boy’s reaction to finding he
had four flat tires and no gas left in the tank.