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"Thanks for driving me," Kayla said to Rex for probably the hundredth time.
"You're welcome," he said—also for probably the hundredth time.
It was too dangerous to talk about what was really on her mind. If she said anything out loud, if either of them slipped up, she might have to admit to Bronson or Sloan that she was visiting the Bitterroots for reasons that didn't involve Sloan.
She was going there for Sloan. He wanted to get back together, and she was giving him a chance. That's all it was.
She rubbed her sweating palms over her jeans. "It's just kind of a long drive, is all."
"But it's a pretty one," Rex said.
She laughed. "It's dark, Rex."
"Well, I still know it's pretty out there."
Even with their strong wolf shifter vision, they couldn't see much beyond the headlights. She wished she was visiting her former pack during the day, but Sloan said there was a party tonight and they could hang out, have a couple of beers, and talk. It should've sounded low-key and pleasant, but with Sloan involved, it sounded more like a nightmare.
No, she couldn't keep thinking that way. It would be good to talk with Sloan, find out why he was so hell-bent on winning her back.
"And you really don't mind waiting for me?" she asked.
Rex took his eyes off the road to glance at her. "Kayla. I want to be here. I want to help you...reconcile with Sloan. Take as long as you need, and know that I'll be waiting here in the truck when you're ready to come home tonight. Okay?"
She nodded.
Another couple of minutes passed with nothing but the sound of the truck's engine filling the silence. Kayla couldn't take it—she knew she was probably bugging the hell out of Rex, but when she was nervous, she talked. When she was happy, she talked. When she was mad, she talked. And when she was scared shitless, like she was now? She also talked.
"So, it could be a few hours," she said. "I don't really know how long I'll be there, you know?"
"That's fine."
"You can always text me if you're getting tired of waiting."
He sent her a sharp look—not angry, but searching. "Should I do that, after a certain point?"
"I don't think it's necessary on my end. I'll be perfectly safe. I mean, they aren't monsters or anything." It was the second time she'd said something like that. He isn't a monster. Who was she trying to convince?
He pursed his lips behind his beard, looking like he might argue that point.
Kayla decided to change the topic before they veered into dangerous conversation. "How did you know Gemma was your mate?"
"How did I know? Hmm. I'm not sure—we were friends from childhood. Once I was in high school and learned what a fated mate was, I was pretty sure Gemma was it. The problem was, I kept hearing about pack, clan, and pride wars where entire families were wiped out. Gemma's a human, and although she's the strongest person I know, I was afraid of what that could do to her. So I chickened out and left."
Kayla let off a low growl.
"I know, I was an idiot," he said. "Anyway, when we found each other again—when she found me, really—I realized there was no way I could run anymore. She was it, and pretending otherwise had been slowly killing me."
Slowly killing him. She hated how familiar that sounded, and how dramatic, but it was kind of what the past few months had felt like. She was so close to Parker, and yet he didn't feel the same way about her that she felt about him. So what did that mean? Would she die from not having him if he never loved her back?
Fuck that. She was a modern woman and she'd find solace in her vibrator every damn day if that's what it took to forget him.
Problem was, her vibrator couldn't love her back, either.
"What did it feel like?" she asked. "When you were apart? I mean, you weren't really going to die, were you?"
"I guess not. But it felt like a heavy emptiness around me all the time. Eventually the only way I could fight it was to physically fight. I had to exhaust my wolf enough that I was too tired to feel."
Maybe Kayla would join his new MMA gym. She wouldn't mind punching the shit out of a bag. Maybe she could pretend the bag was Parker's stubborn face.
"But when we were together," he continued, "everything just clicked into place. If you don't feel that with Sloan..."
He didn't finish his sentence, and he didn't need to. Nobody, probably not even Sloan, believed that Kayla felt that with Sloan. But she had to start believing it was possible, or that a life with Sloan could be tolerable.
Of course it could be tolerable. She could tolerate a lot—as she'd demonstrated during her years with the Bitterroots.
The truck slowed and Rex pulled into a large dirt patch that looked like it had been used for logging trucks to turn around.
"Jameson said this is as far as I should take you," Rex said.
"Yeah, the territory begins just ahead." She pointed to a mile marker on the side of the road. It was only a few yards away. From the marker, it was a ten-minute walk to Bronson's mansion.
She opened the door and hopped to the ground, grabbing her sweatshirt to bring with her.
Rex pushed his seat back, but he didn't lean with it yet. "Got your phone?"
"Yeah." She held it up.
"You need anything, I can shift and be there in less than ten minutes."
"Thanks." She forced a grin onto her face. "I'll be fine, though. I can at least listen to what Sloan has to say."
Rex nodded and leaned back in his seat, and Kayla shut the door and turned to face the Bitterroot territory. It wasn't that far from the RCC, but this territory felt colder and darker. Well, it was later at night, nearing nine o'clock. As chills erupted over her arms and neck, she told herself they were from the temperature, not her misgivings.
Her favorite unicorn kitty t-shirt didn't seem like such a good luck charm anymore. She pulled on her sweatshirt but left it unzipped.
She at first walked on the road toward the mile marker, and then, just past it, she took the gravel lane that led to the Bitterroot mansion. The forest was quiet, but she was certain she was being watched. She could feel a distrustful gaze as clear and certain as the nervous thumping of her heart.
Taking out her phone, she texted Sloan. I'm here.
She'd walked a few more yards when he appeared on the drive in front of her, wearing only a pair of jeans and some sneakers. The fact he was shirtless probably had everything to do with the bigger muscles he was sporting—he'd been working out, and he wanted her to notice.
Well, she was here to play that game, after all. With a smile pasted on her face, she said, "You look good."
"Thanks." His black hair was styled with an undercut, and the long bangs swept over his forehead, hiding one of his green eyes. "You look about the same."
Kayla raised her eyebrows.
"Still good, I mean," he said.
He had never excelled at giving compliments. Tearing her down, though, he was great at that. She wondered how long it would take for the first dig.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Your face is a little fuller."
And there it was.
"It's probably because I'm pregnant," she said.
"What?" he squawked. Then he narrowed his eyes at her. "That's a lie."
Kayla laughed. "Fun to mess with you, as always, Sloan."
"Is that why you're here?" he asked. "To mess with me?"
She held up her phone. "You're the one messing with me. You won't stop texting. I figure if we talk, we can either work things out or I can get you to leave me alone. It's a win-win, right?"
Every phrase was carefully skirting the edge of truth and lie. This was going to be a helluva balancing act.
"I guess." He eyed her clothes. "Still into the little girl shirts, I see."
"Yep."
A memory she'd tried to block came roaring back. Sometime before Thanksgiving, Sloan had gone into her dresser when she was out on a run. He'd taken all of her t-shirts and burned them. When she yelled at him about it, he said it was because they were "frivolous" and she always wasted her wealth on stupid shit.
She should have left him right then, but Bronson got involved and made Sloan pay her for the t-shirts. She hadn't wanted his money. But he apologized, and she stuck around for a couple more months of misery. She felt so stupid now.
"Have you fucked anyone since we broke up?" Sloan asked, yanking her back to the present.
The hell? Kayla rolled her eyes. "No, I haven't."
"Good."
"Have you?" she asked.
"'Course I did." He shrugged. "No point in lying about it. Did you mess around with anyone but not fuck them?"
"Maybe." None of his damn business, but they may as well get all of this over with.
"Is it someone in the RCC?"
Like he'd said, no point in lying about it. "Yeah."
His gaze grew sharp. "Is it serious?"
"Hell no. I don't even like the guy."
He nodded, seemingly satisfied. She was telling the truth, after all. She obsessed over Parker, lusted after Parker, dreamed of Parker. But right now, nope, she didn't like him.
Sloan said, "Well, let's grab some beers and talk, then. You can meet some of our new pack members, too."
"Cool." She started forward.
"Wait," he said. "Where are your bags?"
"Bags?"
"You're staying the night, aren't you? Nobody's gonna drive you back. And you still don't drive, right?"
"I still don't drive," she said, hoping he'd let it go. "Someone from the RCC is waiting for me beyond the edge of the territory."
"What the hell? I thought you wanted to get back together. Maybe you should go now if you aren't prepared to stay."
"Look, Sloan." No pretending here—her anger was real. "I don't know what to expect yet, from either of us. If we want to make this work, we'll have to earn each other's trust again."
Trust would never, ever happen between them. But she had to sound like she thought it might be possible.
"You smell like another man. A wolf," he said.
"The guy who gave me a ride. Rex. You remember him."
"Yeah, I remember." He clicked his teeth together—once, twice, a pause, and a third time. She'd never understood that quirk of his, but he did it whenever he was puzzling something out.
"He just gave me a ride, Sloan," she said in a sharp voice.
"Fine," he said. "Let's go get some beers."
She walked slightly behind him, knowing he had never liked it when she appeared to be faster or first. He was like a five-year-old that way.
But he slowed until she was at his side, then reached out to take her hand in his.
Trying not to recoil, Kayla held his hand all the way back to the mansion.
This close to him, she could smell the woodsy cologne he wore. He was the only shifter she knew who wore a fake scent. Didn't the chemical undertones bother his nose? She'd once tried to ask him about it, but he'd been supremely offended and hadn't spoken to her for a full day.
She'd had to pretend that was a punishment.
Hell. What was she doing here?
They approached from the side rather than following the driveway to the front of the house, and came directly into the back yard.
This place was no Ring of Fire. Back at the RCC, everyone would be grouped around the fire pit, laughing and talking. Here, people milled about under a gazebo or swam in the large, heated pool. Tables of snacks stood off to one side, and classic rock music came through hidden speakers.
"There are so many of you now," Kayla said, silently counting the people. There had to be thirty of them, possibly more.
"So many of us, you mean," Sloan said, flashing her an irritated glance. "You belong here, too, whether you know it or not. Anyway, some are recruits. And usually we're not all here—Bronson sends people out on missions sometimes."
"And that's all we'll say about that for now," Bronson said, approaching with a smile fixed on his face.
The smile was at odds with the alpha she knew—Bronson didn't seem like the kind of person who could actually feel happy. Motivated? Yes. Power-hungry? Definitely. But joyful? She doubted it. With his light brown hair cropped short and a strong, square jaw that was always clean-shaven, he reminded her of a military general who never took leave. Strategizing and fighting were all he cared about.
Bronson continued, "Right, Sloan? You can't go giving all of our secrets to someone from the Rock Creek Clan."
"Of course not," Sloan said, lowering his gaze. "Kayla, I'll get us each a beer."
Sloan walked to a large aluminum bucket filled with ice and drinks.
"Bronson," Kayla said, dipping her chin. "Thank you for letting me visit."
"Welcome back, Kayla." Bronson stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. "I hope you're here for the right reasons."
She hugged him back, feeling smothered the whole while. "Of course—I'm here to talk to Sloan. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"
Sloan returned with their beers and handed a can to Kayla. She used the opportunity to put a little extra space between her and Bronson.
Still, Bronson studied her face. "And you're here with your alpha's blessing."
"Jameson told me he doesn't like it, if that's what you're asking," she said. It was true—Jameson had said, in that careful tone of voice, that he didn't like her coming here. That this visit had been inspired by his suggestion, well, Bronson didn't really need to know that, did he?
"In fact," she added, "no one in the RCC wants me to be here at all."
"Perfect," Sloan said, punching the air with his beer can. "That means you're in the right place."
He grabbed Kayla's hand and dragged her over to some chairs by the pool.
A woman with long brown hair swam the length of the pool, back and forth. Rhiannon. At Bronson's behest, Rhiannon had caused a world of trouble to the RCC. Kayla couldn't hold back her sneer.
"Hold a grudge, much?" Sloan asked, slinging an arm around Kayla's shoulders.
Kayla shoved him off. "She really hurt some of my friends. Or if it wasn't her, she was there."
"All's fair in love and—"
"Don't," Kayla said. "If you want to make up, we should talk about other things."
He nodded and gulped his beer. Kayla took a small sip of hers.
"So, what have you been up to?" Kayla asked.
"Not much. Bronson's been trusting me with more. Finally. And I dated a couple of chicks. Humans. They are so fucking easy to lie to."
Kayla glared at him. Of course he'd rather date women who would believe his lies.
"I'm not trying to make you jealous," he said, then laughed. "Okay, maybe a little. But you can't expect me to keep it in my pants while you're playing hard-to-get."
Her inner wolf wanted to tear him to pieces, but Kayla took deep breaths to keep calm. "What kind of work are you doing these days?"
"Research," he said proudly. "We have plenty of lackeys to patrol the territory. Rhiannon's in charge of them. Bronson has the rest of us out looking for—stuff."
He'd caught himself just in time. Dammit. Kayla took another sip of beer and resolved it would be her last. Then she searched for another conversation topic to steer him away from sensitive issues before he got suspicious.
"The gazebo is new," she said.
"Yeah. We put it up, what was it? Last month or something." Sloan launched into a long story that painted himself as the hero of the gazebo. Once upon a time, Kayla might have found it cute. But now, she heard the dismissive way he talked about everyone else.
And she saw the way he stared at her boobs instead of her face. Sadly, Kayla realized, this trip wouldn't supply her with any intelligence on what the Bitterroots were up to. Bronson was already suspicious and it was too risky to ask anything specific. She'd have to come back. The very idea turned the beer sour in her stomach, and she set her nearly-full can on the little patio table next to her.
Shifters went in and out of the pool. Rhiannon climbed out and Bronson was immediately at her side, holding a towel. Hunh. Kayla wondered if they were into each other. She couldn't picture the standoffish Rhiannon being into anyone, though.
After a few more stories, and Sloan drinking a few more beers, Sloan pointed at the mansion. "Should we go upstairs? See your old room?"
Not subtle at all. Kayla shook her head. "That's not why I'm here, Sloan."
His mouth twisted. "Don't be a cocktease."
"Yeah, that's not going to make me want to come back," she said.
He rubbed his hands over his face. "You just drive me crazy, that's all. I want you, and I can tell you want me, too."
The sick thing was, he truly believed what he was saying. Rather than set him straight, she said, "I'm not ready for any of that. But I'd like to come back another time."
"Fine." So much dissatisfaction could be heard in a single syllable.
Kayla stood up. "I should get going. I can see myself out."
"I'll see you soon, then," Sloan said, not getting up.
"Yeah," Kayla said. "Soon."
Rhiannon had gotten back into the pool. She watched from the corner, shamelessly eavesdropping. She totally didn't trust Kayla.
Kayla didn't blame her—she didn't trust herself, right now. This must have been what life had been like for Matt, lying all the time. Having to believe the truths that weren't quite true, always weighing his words before speaking.
If Kayla came back here, she hoped it would be the last time.