Chapter 15

 

Wedge Durrow called early Tuesday morning. He burst into speech before she could shake all of the fog from her brain. "Four rogues attacked one of my wolves last night. Three of them were new and didn't know much, but the fourth one was old and dangerous. My wolf fought them off. We heal fast, but it's going to take him a few days to recover. He was savaged pretty badly. They meant to kill him."

Reece swung her legs over the edge of her bed and pushed herself to her feet. She glanced in the mirror and ran her hand through her hair. Her fingers couldn't tame the mass of knots, but she smoothed them a little. "Do you want to talk to Damian?"

"I called you, didn't I? It doesn't matter which one of you I talk to. I just want all of you to know that if you see wolves on the streets for a while, they might be mine."

"You're going after them?" That woke her up.

Wedge's voice was as brittle as ice. "No one attacks one of my pack."

Reece hesitated a second. "I'm new, remember? How can I tell one of your wolves from one of the rogues?"

"Mine won't attack you. They'll be going after another wolf."

The phone went dead, and Reece realized Wedge had said everything he wanted to. She sighed and went to find Damian to tell him the news. She found him sitting on the balcony, as usual, looking out over the city.

Damian frowned when she finished. "That doesn't make any sense. Someone's gone to a lot of bother to make sure Wedge's pack doesn’t interfere with the rogues. This is like waving a red flag of war."

"It's good for us, though." Reece shrugged, watching the first sun rays creep across the neighboring buildings. "That sounded callous, didn't it? I didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry for the wolf that was hurt, but now Wedge's pack will help us."

"Help us?" Damian moved from the shadows and stepped inside the apartment. "Wedge will deal with the rogues himself. His pack's more than capable of taking out any threat to them."

"Even better. The rogues just sealed their own doom."

Damian nodded, studying her face in the morning light. He reached out and pushed stray strands of hair behind her ear. "You realize, don't you, that once the rogues are eliminated, Andre can stay with Wedge and his pack?"

His touch sent tremors up and down her, but he didn't mean anything by it. He was a friend. And once this threat was gone, he'd leave. She tried to keep her voice light. "Andre will learn a lot faster that way, won't he? It will be good for him."

"He'll probably divide his time between his restaurants, Wedge, and Hecate." His gaze was intent.

"And partying," she said. "Don't forget his love of good times."

"Will you be all right with that?" He was standing too close. She could feel the warmth of him, his strength. And he was confusing her. She couldn't see what he was getting at.

"I think I'm fine?" Her voice rose to make the statement a question. Was she missing something? Was there something she should worry about that she didn't know?

"Won't you miss him?"

"I'm guessing I'll still see him once in a while."

"In passing. Will that be enough?"

"For what?" Was she supposed to help Andre somehow? She passed a hand over her eyes, wiping sleep away. Werewolves didn't learn magic, did they?

Damian sighed in frustration. "Are you interested in him or not? Hecate didn't really give you a choice."

Reece stared. Was that what he was worried about? "Do you mean…like am I attracted to him? Hell, no."

"No? He's tall. He's handsome. He's debonair and charming."

Reece waved that away. "All stuff, nothing that interests me."

"He makes you laugh."

"Now, that, I'll miss."

"That's all?" It was Damian's turn to stare. "What does interest you?"

She'd never been one to beat about the bush, as her father used to put it. Damian was standing right there, so close she could touch him. And she wanted to. "You do."

"Me?" He looked more than surprised. Maybe shocked. "Half the time, I irritate you."

"And the other half, I want you."

His brows wrinkled in confusion. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Sort of. I thought you knew how I felt."

"I knew we were close, there was a connection, but then…"

"I respect you as much as any person I've ever known."

He shook his head. "Women might admire that, but it usually doesn't attract them."

 

"You make it sound like a bad thing." Embarrassed, she went to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee. She'd never been good at flirting. Maybe this was the wrong approach.

"Not for me, it's not." He was at her side in an instant. "I thought I had a chance, and then Andre showed up…."

"Do you like me?"

"I'm way past like."

That was all she needed to hear. She stood on tiptoes to kiss him. He lifted her off her feet and crushed her to him. Neither of them pulled away. The moment stretched until finally, he loosened his hold and she gulped a deep breath. They both started to talk at the same time. He deferred, letting her go first.

"Wow! That was better than I thought it would be."

His lips twitched. "You have a way with compliments."

"Tact isn't one of my strengths."

"You have plenty of others." He lowered his head, and this time his kiss was gentle. "But I need to tell you, gargoyles don't do flings."

"Neither do I."

He lowered his head again. This time, his kiss was intense and thorough.

Her bones melted. At least, that's what it felt like. Her knees didn't want to support her. She clung to him and couldn't press herself close enough. Her hands wandered up and down his sculpted chest, reveling at his response—the tiny shivers her fingers caused.

He gently stroked her throat, sending tingles up and down her. His lips followed, finding the hollow at the base of her neck. Her breath caught. His hands slid under her oversized T-shirt. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs caressing her nipples. Hot need knotted inside her. She flung her arms around his neck.

He lifted her and carried her to the bedroom, lowering her onto the king-sized mattress. The sheets were rumpled. She pushed them out of her way. He lowered himself beside her. She pulled her T-shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor, then wriggled out of her panties. He groaned and reached for her.

His lips and fingers explored her body. Her mind stopped, her thoughts overwhelmed by pleasure. Spasms of passion darted through her. He kissed the inside of her thighs, and the hunger mounted. It built until her skin felt hot and her insides clenched with need. He was being so careful, so gentle. She dug her nails into his back and tugged him onto her.

"I don't want to hurt you."

She tilted her hips to him. "Just do it!"

He was still too slow, too cautious. She gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. Then he was inside her, and all of the pent up energy rushed to release. She arched her back and moved to keep time with him. He didn't rush. The tension built and built until she came once, twice, and again with him.

"Was it all right?" Damian asked in almost a whisper.

"All right? Hell, it was New Year's Eve and the Fourth of July rolled into one."

"I didn't hurt you?"

"Did you hear me cry out in pain?"

"You cried out." He grinned.

She ran her finger along his jawline—a thing of beauty—strong and square. "I'm a witch. I'm stronger than you think. What about you? Are you okay?"

"I am now." He rolled sideways and propped himself on one elbow to let his eyes roam over her. "I've craved joy in my life, something more than pride in a job well done, for a few decades."

"Me too. Well, not that long, but long enough." She didn't want to think about that now, though. She had other things on her mind. They didn't leave the bed until noon. When she finally checked her cell, there was a message from Andre. He was staying another night at Hecate's. Reece smiled. "I don't have to be at the studio until four."

By the time three came around, she had to scramble to get ready to teach her evening classes.

"I'll ride with you," Damian said. "I can sit in the SUV until it gets dark, and then I can watch you from the window ledge."

She flushed. It would feel different having Damian watch her now. Almost intimate. But once she reached her dojo and started teaching her students, she went into martial arts mode and sank into routine. Tuesdays were her long night, and it was late when she locked up to leave. She glanced skyward. Only stars. The dark of the moon, a time of portents, was upon them. She couldn't see the moon, but she could feel it. It still tugged at her like an outgoing tide. And it filled her, like an incoming one.

She glanced at the window ledge across the alley, but Damian wasn't there. Maybe Benito had called to him. Maybe rogues were prowling the city again. She started for her SUV when a low growl pinned her in place. She slowly turned and saw four rogues rounding the corner of her studio, coming for her. One of them was the smaller wolf with spiky, black fur, the one that had bounced around Andre, almost playful. She didn't recognize the other two, but the fourth was the huge salt-and-pepper Were with the massive shoulders and mean mouth.

They ran at her on all fours and formed a circle around her. Then they raised themselves on their hind legs, towering above her. Reece put a hand to her moonstone. She planted her feet and called energy to her. She could feel the earth hum beneath her. Power built inside her.

The spiky-furred wolf whimpered. It cocked its head and studied her. The rogue could feel Reece's energy. The other three seemed oblivious. There was the flapping of wings and Damian plummeted out of the sky to place his back against hers.

The spiky-furred rogue looked almost excited to see a gargoyle. It didn't seem to realize the seriousness of the situation. It must be a new wolf without its killer instinct intact. Reece didn't want to hurt it, but if she had to, she would.

The big, gray wolf's lips pulled back in a snarl. The rogues on each side of it followed its lead. They crouched, ready to spring, but before they could, the silver wolf—the girl with the platinum hair—came out of nowhere. She leapt between them and Reece to square off with the gray rogue.

He lunged at her. They snapped and tore. He was twice her size, heavy and powerful, but each time he attacked, the girl performed her amazing acrobatics in mid-air. And each time she landed, paws on the ground, the gray wolf was bleeding some place new. First, it was his muzzle. Then there was a gash above his eye. Next was his throat. The three young rogues put their tails between their legs and backed off.

The two older wolves circled each other. When the gray pounced, the girl easily sidestepped him, then whipped to the left. She ripped open the gray's jawline. Reece watched, amazed. The female was so lithe, so deadly. But why was she fighting one of her own?

The gray Were threw himself forward, going for the girl's throat—the same move that had ripped the boy's neck open. The girl used his body as a launch pad. She leapt off his back, twisted in the air, and landed behind him. When he whirled to face her, she dropped to the ground, rolled, and snapped at his jugular. Blood gushed. The gray wolf howled, staggered forward, then fell. As he struggled to right himself, he began to change. His fur retracted and sunburned skin stretched over taut muscles. His paws became hands. His jaw receded. Within minutes, the man from the restaurant knelt on the sidewalk, close to death. He glared at the silver rogue. "Fuck you."

Her green eyes glittered as she turned her gaze to his three companions. She gave a soft snarl, turned on her heel, and raced away. The three fretted, confused, before following her.

Adrenaline pulsed through Reece. She gave Damian a shaky look. "What just happened?"

"The girl rogue killed the gray wolf."

"Yeah, but why?"

Damian frowned, thinking about that. "I'd say that she and the gray wolf had issues between them, and she won."

Reece looked at the naked man in front of her studio. "The police can't find another body near me. What can I say?"

"No worry." Damian hefted the dead man off the sidewalk and said, "Go home. I'll meet you there."

He was landing on the balcony when her key turned in the lock. "Are the rogues fighting each other?" she asked the minute he came inside. She'd been thinking about the battle for the entire drive across town.

Damian shook his head. "The silver Were struck me as an enforcer. Did you notice her eyes? They stayed green. She was in charge of her instincts. She had enough self control to ignore you and focus on the rogue who was causing the pack trouble. It was her job to take him out. My guess is, he was going against pack orders."

Reece thought about that. It made sense. If someone in Wedge's pack killed a human, the pack eliminated him. The safety of the group was more important than any one individual, and no werewolves wanted people paying attention to them.

"And the three rogues who came with the gray wolf?" she asked.

"Probably trainees, under the older wolf. They sure didn't know what to do, but they realized that the female had more authority than their tutor did." Damian paused, thinking. "Actually, I got the impression they didn't like the gray wolf, but felt they had to obey him. The girl rogue let them know she was in charge."

That made sense. The actions of the wolves seemed to prove Damian's theory. Reece asked another question, "What do you think the gray wolf did to get himself in trouble?"

The telephone ringing answered that question. It was Wedge Durrow. "My pack doesn't have a problem anymore. It's been taken care of. We're out of this again."

Damian hung up with a nod. "The gray rogue must have had a personal grudge against Wedge's wolf. It broke the rules when it attacked a pack wolf, and the female was sent to deal with it."

"By whom?"

"You look tired. Let's talk about this tomorrow."

"I am tired, but I still want to know who controls the girl rogue."

He nestled her close to him and stroked her hair. She blinked, her eyes heavy. "Every pack is ruled by their alpha. My guess is the human controls the new rogues."

"And the girl?"

"And your old student, Paul, and the dingy werewolf Aurelius knows."

"Doesn't make sense to me. I think the rogues rent space from him, but they rule themselves. Sort of a democracy. They all work together."

"That goes against every wolf instinct."

She yawned and leaned against him. His voice came from far away. She had more questions—How many rogues were there? Why would they follow a human? Why couldn't rogues make their own rules? Would they finally worry that they'd pushed too hard and would be safer some place else?—but the words wouldn't form. She fell asleep in Damian's arms.