A Bloody Good Secret: Secret McQueen, Book 2 (15 page)

I had places to be after my date with Lucas, and I didn’t think my plans for the night were going to wait for me to go home and get a gun.

I hiked the purse straps higher on my shoulder and stuffed my hands in the front pockets of the dress. From this point forward I was only ever going to own dresses with pockets. I was way too fidgety when I was nervous, and having pockets at least allowed me a place to steady my idle hands. A breeze drifted past me, and with it came the wolf king.

I tasted Lucas before I saw him. The sudden sweetness of cinnamon was almost overwhelming, and my whole mouth filled with the spicy and aromatic swell of it. After the taste came his arms, strong and a little warmer than the air. Werewolves are always hot, any time of year, and I found it comforting. My own skin maintained a happy medium between hot werewolf blood and cold vampire blood, so I just felt normal. It was one of the only parts of my life that was—at least on the surface—human.

He rubbed his cheek against the side of my head, his beard snagging against my hair. I heard a rumble in his chest, a contented sigh as he pulled me closer into the familiarity and safety of his embrace. Though my anger was now a distant memory, I felt like I was supposed to still be mad at him. But it was difficult to be mad at a handsome, strong man who just one night earlier confessed his love to me.

Nevertheless, I insisted, “Hey, I’m still mad at you.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, snuggling me tighter. Over the sweetness of cinnamon, there was a scent that was entirely Lucas. All werewolves smelled like peat and evergreen, but with Lucas the musk was uniquely his and so intoxicating it was in another universe from all other wolves. The fragrance was dangerous and promising, and it made me want to bury my nose in the crook of his neck, nip at the sensitive skin, and…

My eyes were suddenly wide open. I worried that if my train of thought followed the path it had started, I would be back into a shared mind-space with Holden. With Desmond, the task at hand had been consuming enough he hadn’t noticed what was going on. I didn’t know if Lucas would be able to overlook my sudden catatonia as I went into a shared dream with the vampire.

Lucas had once shared a dream with me, and I had never asked how he’d been able to do it. I had been too grateful for the part it played in saving my life. Now I was beginning to wonder if I was easy to violate on the subconscious plane, or if I just opened myself up to people I was close to without realizing it.

One more question to answer, one more mystery to solve.

But nothing could be more important than finding a way to save Holden from condemnation and death at my hand. I was a tool of the Tribunal, and I could only keep them from forcing me to do their bidding for so long. I didn’t think anyone, even Sig, could convince Juan Carlos not to kill me if I refused to finish this job.

Juan Carlos was looking for any excuse, and I wasn’t about to deliver one to him on a silver platter.

Tonight, when the vampires came out to play, I would try to find some answers. But for right now I was here with my wolf king, and I wanted to hear what he had to say for himself. I extricated myself from his arms, sad to be out of them, and turned to face him at last.

The beard was still so foreign to his face, it felt like I was looking at his evil twin.

I reached up and ran my hand over his cheek, letting the short hairs tickle the palm of my hand. As an experiment, I scratched the beard on his cheek as if it were fur, and he grinned at me.

“It makes you look old,” I said.

His grin faded and his hand caught mine at the wrist, then lowered it from his face. I flinched, realizing too late I’d insulted him, which hadn’t been my intention. I was just unsettled by the maturity it lent to a face I remembered being full of candid, youthful sweetness.

A lot had changed since I’d left.

He held my wrist a little longer, then twined his big fingers with mine so our hands were palm to palm. “Let’s go eat.”

Two Moon Grill, according to
The New York Times
, was the premiere restaurant in the city for a good steak. A year ago it had been STK. The year before it had been a place called Red. Considering a blue-rare steak was about the only thing I could eat aside from blood that was of any nutritional benefit to me, I was in a unique position to think of myself as a bit of a steak snob.

I ignored the array of steak sauces brought to our table and eschewed the offer of any kind of side dish. The waiter gave Lucas an imploring look when I asked for it bloody rare, like he hoped the man at the table might persuade me to let them cook the steak until it was at least
warm.

Lucas offered him no help, but smiled politely and ordered a bottle of Chilean Pinot Noir to go with our cold twenty-two-ounce porterhouses.

Once the waiter was gone, we stared at each other awkwardly across the huge butcher-block table. This restaurant wasn’t the most romantic atmosphere for a date, but it was dark and it was quiet without being silent, so I couldn’t complain too much.

While the restaurant might not have been silent, the space between Lucas and I filled with anxiousness and avoidance. After the silence moved from comfortable to smothering, I felt the need to break it before it broke us.

“Did you ever stop to think maybe I was planning to come back on my own?” I hadn’t meant for the first thing out of my mouth to sound so accusatory, but when it came to good date conversation, I was out of practice.

Lucas wove his fingers together and pressed both palms flat on the table. He breathed deeply through his nose, like an athlete preparing to execute a difficult maneuver.

“I thought about it, yes,” he began, his focus fixed on his thumbnails, where they dragged across the rough wood of the table. “I thought about it for one month. And then another.” The lines his nails drew out got longer and longer, the two hands now separated from each other by a wide berth. Subtle. “Then, after the third month, I started to see things a little differently.”

The waiter returned, keeping him from saying more and giving me time to feel ashamed of myself. Our wine was presented, and Lucas did the big show of smelling and sampling it, then giving our waiter approval to serve it.

The wine smelled heavenly—rich and dark, with the hidden promise of blackberry tartness. I took a small sip, but not much more. I wanted to have a level head for this conversation, and I was one heck of a cheap drunk.

Lucas continued as if we’d never been interrupted.

“By the time your vampire came to see me, I was certain you had no intention of coming home without some…convincing.”

What had felt like a knot of shame in my gut unraveled. I had thought Lucas and I could talk this out without any of the anger I’d experienced before, but I was sorely mistaken. It roared to life, carried by the instincts of my inner wolf, who was not really the forgive-and-forget type.

“So, you thought having two strangers kidnap me and stick me in a car trunk would be the best way to
convince
me?” My voice rose above the sounds of the ambient jazz quartet hidden in one corner. Lucas looked me in the eyes, and there was a quiet warning in his expression.

I placed my fisted hands in my lap and refused to avert my eyes. I wouldn’t be cowed by a withering stare. I wasn’t his wolf. But I didn’t speak again.

“You need to know what you left behind.”

I think of anything he could have said, this frightened me the most. After hearing Dominick’s assessment of the damage I’d done, I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear it directly from the wolf’s mouth. It would be difficult to be high and mighty if Lucas did something stupid, like confess how much my leaving had hurt him. I turned away.

“Okay,” I acquiesced.

“Secret, look at me.” His tone was gentle rather than demanding.

I raised my gaze slowly, afraid he might have become a Gorgon and I would be turned to stone by looking at him. I feared his pain much more than his indignation. Of course, when I faced him, all that greeted me were his pale, glimmering blue eyes. His former annoyance had faded, and he was once again my Lucas.

He reached his hands out to me, and I placed my own in them. His palms were so much larger than mine he could have enclosed my whole hand in his. His skin was rougher than I remembered, and I wondered if that was new or if I’d forgotten little pieces of him over the spring.

“Even though you killed Marcus,” he said, “there was still a level of uncertainty in the pack because of what he had done by bringing that many rogues out and by finding a Southern pack princess to be his mate.” By this he meant my mother. “And by almost killing
my
mate…”

I almost protested. Lucas may have announced his intentions to court me, but I had not been formally acknowledged as his mate. Call me old-fashioned, but if I’m going to be mated to a billionaire, I sort of want a ring.

Or at least to be
asked
.

He carried on without seeming to notice his
faux pas
. He had also avoided mentioning Marcus’s partnership with a certain nasty Cajun vampire. I wondered if he hoped we could avoid discussing vampires altogether.

“The entire foundation of my leadership came into question. Others in the pack, especially the older families in the small towns, started to ask themselves if I was fit to rule. Or if I was too young to be king.” He squeezed my hands a little too hard.

I’d never asked Lucas about his father’s death. Everyone, at least everyone in public, knew about his sudden and tragic death at the age of fifty-eight from an undiagnosed pancreatic tumor. Since my romance with Lucas had been quick, dramatic and lacking in time for most of the small details of our pasts, I had not had the chance to ask if that was a cover story.

It seemed far more likely Jeremiah Rain had died defending his pack from an enemy, either one from outside or within. But now wasn’t the time to ask. Another question for another day. I knew Lucas resented the doubt his age cast over his ability to lead his people. I wasn’t part of his pack, but nothing would ever make me doubt his loyalty to his wolves. I marveled at how anyone who knew him could hesitate to trust his leadership.

“I didn’t help things, did I?” I asked.

He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “Dominick told you about the special designation for those who save the king by killing a usurper, right?”

“Pack protector.”

For the first time that evening I realized I hadn’t seen the blond bodyguard once. Either I was being trusted again, or he was hiding somewhere and I hadn’t thought to look.

“He was less than clear about what the implications of being a pack protector were, though,” I admitted as I looked around the room, seeing no sign of him.

Lucas’s thumb rubbed small, soothing circles onto my palm, and some of my anxiety melted away. I stopped looking for Dominick.

“Pack protector is a title for anyone who puts their own life at risk to protect the king or the sanctity of the pack. Basically, anyone who places the pack above themselves. It is a sacred position, and one of great respect. To be the king’s mate
and
pack protector proves your loyalty to the pack beyond reproach.”

“Oh.” My palm went cold in his hand.

“To be the pack protector and then vanish when the pack is at its weakest shows you had no respect for the position. It’s considered an unforgivable insult.”

“
Oh
,” I said again. A lump was growing in my gut, and while it was not as familiar as it should have been, I knew what it was. Guilt.

“By leaving, you did more than hurt me personally. You helped add doubt to the already restless minds of those who were the least certain of me.” Though his tone was matter-of-fact, I heard the sharpened edge to his words.

I had suspected he might have issues to deal with after I left, and I’d had three months to battle the guilt of what my absence might have meant to him. But having him lay it all out on the table did something I couldn’t have expected. It sort of pissed me off. Sure, I’d made things harder for him, I wasn’t denying that, but if he was the king, wasn’t it sort of his job to deal with difficult situations?

“Lucas…” I took a breath to calm myself, resisting the urge to say something I couldn’t take back. I had to remember that I’d never really been a part of anything bigger than myself. Before becoming a warden, I hadn’t been a member of the vampire council, but rather was their pawn. I hadn’t considered myself to be a part of Lucas’s pack, so of course I wouldn’t have considered how my individual actions could have impacted the group. Maybe it was foolish of me, but if you’ve never been responsible for anyone but yourself, a lone wolf, it’s hard to wrap your head around a pack mentality.

“I know you had your reasons. I know you were freaked out by what happened in that basement…”

That
was the understatement of the decade. I’d forced my new boyfriend to accept I was part vampire so I could feed off him in order to not die. Afterwards, I hadn’t been sure if I’d ever see him or Desmond again.

“I ran.” I pulled my hands away from him. “I didn’t know how to face you. I didn’t know if you’d want to see me after what happened. So I ran.”

“Shouldn’t that have been for me to decide?”

“Shouldn’t coming home have been for
me
to decide?” I retorted. Even though I wasn’t really angry, I found it frustrating he couldn’t see outside the box.

He huffed. “The vampire would have brought you back anyway. At least with Jackson there, I knew you’d be safe.”

I flashed to my graceless, bloody exit from the car trunk. “I guess we were both wrong,” I said.

Our steaks came then, and we watched each other in chilly silence. Neither of us moved to eat once the waiter left. I wasn’t hungry anymore. Instead I sipped my wine with less reserve than before.

“I meant what I said yesterday,” he offered. I don’t know if he was trying to make peace between us or to change the subject, but I found myself more annoyed than flattered that he would bring it up right then.

I swished the wine around in my glass and watched the translucent fingers of it claw down the inside walls of the bowl.