A Secret to Die For (Secret McQueen) (10 page)

Chapter Thirteen

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I exited the elevator first, both because I was the pack’s queen and had the most power of anyone in the elevator, and also because I didn’t want to be stuck in the cramped space anymore.

I recognized all three of the men as members of Lucas’s pack, and thankfully two of them were guys I was well acquainted with.

Dominick lowered his gun first, and upon recognizing Desmond and myself, the others did the same.

“Sorry, ma’am.” Jackson, a werewolf I’d rescued from a rogue pack several years earlier, gave me an apologetic nod.

The third wolf was a guy named Bradley whom I’d met once or twice in passing at various werewolf events. He offered a small smile and bowed politely. Jackson and Dominick, realizing they’d skipped protocol, bowed as well.

“Totally not necessary right now, guys.” I touched them each on the shoulder, bidding them to stand. I looked to Bradley first. “A few members of my party are vampires. I need you to show them to light-safe rooms, please.”

He grimaced at the word
vampires
but didn’t argue, bless him. Clementine, Sutherland and Reggie followed him, but Holden held back for a moment. He placed his hand on my arm and fixed me with a stern glare. “Are you sure this is the best idea?”

“Do you have a better one?”

“I can think of about a thousand other places we could have gone that didn’t involve us crawling to your ex for help.”

“Next time we’re facing death by sunrise, remind me to ask for your best suggestion then.” It hurt me physically to be short with him. But he was being a dick, and it was testing my patience. Now was hardly the best time to get into a fight, though.

“Yes, next time.” He said it as if he doubted the likelihood of there being a next time, and that made me uneasy. If we could avoid getting ourselves into life-threatening trouble down the line, that would be great. But it seemed much more likely he believed we would not be facing any future trouble together.

You made your choice,
I reminded myself.

But my choice didn’t need to mean he was out of my life forever, did it? That was too unfair for words. We had been together for years before things ever got physical. Was it beyond the scope of reason we could go back to the way things were?

Even as I considered it, I knew how ridiculous it was.

We could never be the same as we were, because between then and now we had loved each other. We’d loved each other in a way that was fierce and beautiful, and those kinds of feelings changed people. The people we were now might never be able to be friends.

I had to believe, though, we could find a middle ground between friendship and love. A space we could exist in together that meant I wouldn’t need to give him up, even though I’d chosen to spend my life with Desmond.

Today was all about selfish thoughts for me, but they tended to be the best kind when it came to distracting myself from the bigger issues.

“We can talk about this later. For now, can you find somewhere you’ll be safe for the day? Please?” I touched his cheek, and he flinched.

Our healing process was off to a great start.

“Fine.”

I was well versed in the many nuanced meanings of
fine
, though usually it was because I was wielding the word like a passive-aggressive knife. For Holden to throw it back at me meant that he, of course, was not fine, and when we did eventually talk, it wasn’t going to be to share our warm-and-fuzzy feelings.

As long as it meant he was still talking to me, I didn’t care.

He followed after Bradley, leaving me with the humans and the werewolves. The penthouse was three stories and had plenty enough room for everyone, even if Lucas had brought half the pack here. I wasn’t sure how many of the wolves would actually be present, given not all of them lived in Manhattan proper. Wherever they were, I hoped they were safe. Regardless of my feelings for Lucas, I cared a great deal about the pack and didn’t want anything bad to happen to the people in it.

“Jackson, can you show everyone else to a room? Des and I need to go have a chat with His Majesty.” I swear I tried to keep the sarcastic tone out of my voice, but sometimes it snuck in all on its own.

Jackson, no stranger to my bad attitude, smirked and led the humans and my sister away. The cops all looked wiped out. The past several hours had dealt us more drama and insanity than most people experienced in a lifetime. They’d seen the dead rise, and I’d watched the living fall.

I swallowed hard, chasing the memory of Keaty from my mind. The time for mourning would come, but I couldn’t face my sadness right now. I had a bigger fish to fry. Namely, I needed to have a tête-à-tête with my werewolf husband before sunrise.

We mounted the stairs behind Dominick, and he led us down the corridor to Lucas’s bedroom-slash-office. After a polite knock of warning, he opened the door and ushered us inside. “It’s Secret and Desmond,” he announced before ducking out of the room, leaving us alone with the pack king.

Lucas was pacing in front of the fireplace, his blond hair a mess, as though he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly. He had a day’s worth of stubble growth, and the bags under his eyes were a dark, bruised purple.

“You look like shit,” I said.

“It’s nice to see you too.” He stopped pacing and gave Desmond and me a once-over. “How are you feeling?” he asked Desmond.

Des had had the misfortune of being dosed with a nasty drug while we were in Paris. It had forced him into his werewolf form, and I’d come to Lucas to reverse the process when we got stateside again.

“Decent. I mean, all things considered.”

Lucas nodded. He appeared to have more questions, but thought better of them and stared at the fire instead. “The world has gone crazy.”

“Not the whole world.” I wasn’t sure if there was a way to comfort him. Lucas was a control freak, and this situation was out of all our control.

“Did you ever in your life think you’d see something like this?”

“I once decapitated a flying demon bent on razing the city to the ground. So, I mean…I’ve learned not to count any possibility out.” I smiled, trying to get him to lighten up. We weren’t going to get anywhere if we got mired down in the doom and gloom. This was the kind of situation where giving up felt almost inevitable and it was all too easy to stop fighting.

“I’m glad Kellen isn’t here to see this.”

At the mention of Kellen I was reminded of one of the problems I’d been expecting to face when I got home. Before I went to Manitoba, Aubrey Delacourte, the fairy king, had been quite adamant I give him the favor I owed him. Though now was not the most ideal time to think about debts to the fairy king, I couldn’t shake the notion.

Aubrey wouldn’t care what happened to my world, but if there was anyone who might be able to do something, it was him. Manipulating a fairy into doing something against their will, though, was another story altogether. It wasn’t the best plan, but it was something to keep in the back of my mind. If all else failed, I might need to turn to the fae.

I didn’t love the idea, because I knew I wouldn’t walk away from it without losing something that mattered to me. The last time I’d tangled with Aubrey, he’d stripped me of all my power, and it had almost cost me my life.

Instead we’d let Kellen marry a fae knight, and now I owed Aubrey a favor.

And no one wants to owe a fairy a favor.

“Kellen’s better off where she is,” I agreed. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him about Keaty. Talking about it seemed impossible, and Lucas’s mood was already borderline morose. I didn’t want to make things worse.

“We need your help.” Desmond must have sensed I was at a loss for how to continue, and he charged ahead without me. “We’ve determined who’s behind this whole mess, and Secret has issued them an ultimatum. If they don’t clear town by nightfall, we’re going to need to make good on her threat.”

“Who could do something like this?”

“It’s a…well, it’s a necromancer biker gang.”

The words sounded insane—and borderline hilarious—spoken out loud. Had I not seen Marcela and her gang in person, I wouldn’t have believed it either, but the fact was, we couldn’t let them get the best of us simply because we were busy scoffing at the idea they existed.

“It’s a group that calls themselves the Hands of Death.” Desmond placed his hand on the small of my back. Until recently, human contact set my internal alarms off, and I tended to avoid it as much as possible. But this was different. For the first time in a long time, my skin tingled in response to his touch. I don’t know what brought the change around, and I tried not to overthink it. Instead I enjoyed the brief moment of pleasure, something that had become foreign to me in the months since my encounter with The Doctor.

“Hands of Death?” Lucas asked, now looking at us instead of the fire.

“Have you heard of them?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing specific. I got a call last week from the Northern pack king, Gil O’Shaughnessy. Apparently a few of his bars on the Montana/Alberta border had some issues with a gang, but he didn’t mention anything about them being able to raise the dead.”

“They probably weren’t advertising the skill at that point. As far as I can tell, they’ve come here for a reason. I don’t know what they want, or what they’re trying to accomplish, but they meant to hit New York and nowhere else. We don’t have a lot of time here. Tyler’s working with the FBI, and he says they have a task force set up on the outside, but I don’t know what they can do about it. If we don’t fix this situation soon, it’s going to turn into a military operation, and with tens of thousands of corpses walking around, I only see that ending one way.”

“You don’t think they’ll level the city, do you?” Lucas seemed stunned.

“Tell me what comes to mind when you see dead bodies walking around the streets?”

“Zombies.”

“Yeah. You think the military is going to wait for someone to explain the difference between a zombie and a necromancer-controlled corpse? I doubt it. If they think there’s a chance they won’t be able to keep this contained, I think New York won’t live to see the end of the week.”

“Fuck me.” Lucas crossed the room and settled in behind his desk, raking his hands through his hair.

Even now I couldn’t ignore how beautiful he was. I’d need to be blind not to recognize his appeal. I’d spent years letting his attractive qualities—and stellar bedroom skills—distract me from the major issues in our relationship. That was how damned pretty he was. Now his handsome face was twisted in an exhausted, pitiful grimace, and I felt
bad
. I felt empathy for what he was going through, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d wanted to comfort him like I did now.

Honestly, I couldn’t recall a time we’d gone this long without fighting either.

“Lucas…” I slipped away from Desmond and crouched next to his chair, taking his hand in mine. His fingers, so long and nimble, wrapped around mine, and he stared at me in silence. “We’re going to find a way to make this okay. I promise.”

It wasn’t the kind of promise I had any control over keeping, but it felt like the right thing to say.

He smiled for the first time since we’d arrived. “If anyone could spit in the face of the apocalypse, Secret, it’s you.”

Chapter Fourteen

Desmond and I found ourselves alone for the first time since our engagement.

We’d settled into his old suite, with the curtains drawn tight against the oncoming day, and we collapsed beside each other on his bed. For the past several months I had slept with a gun under my pillow every night, thinking it could protect me from my demons.

But I had seen with my own eyes tonight there were demons out there I was unable to fend off, especially in my sleep. So for one day I decided maybe I could let my guard down and trust that I was protected.

Nothing was going to happen to me while we were at Lucas’s penthouse. The enemies we were facing might be strong, but they were still human, and against a pack of wolves they wouldn’t stand a chance.

I set the gun on the nightstand and rolled over, seeking out Desmond’s warm body and drawing myself towards him.

This, too, was strange. I’d been all about maintaining distance lately, afraid of even the slightest touch. Amazing how the end of the world as you know it will change your perspective on things.

“What are you…?” His words drifted off as I pushed my hands under his shirt, moving slow to enjoy the hot feel of his skin beneath my fingers. His breath hitched up. It had been a long time since I’d touched him.

I paused, wondering if this was the wrong thing to do. When he’d put his hand on me upstairs in Lucas’s room, something had come alive in me I hadn’t been sure I would ever feel again. Now we had a brief reprieve, the last we might have in a long while, and all I could think to do was get all over him. I
needed
it, like I hadn’t in ages. When was the last time I’d been with him? It was much, much too long.

If our world might end tomorrow, I wanted to go to bed with my fiancé once more before it did.

“Shhh,” I whispered, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “We don’t have a lot of time.” The sun would be up soon, and I would be dead to the world once it arrived.

“Are you sure about this?” Desmond, always so cautious, always wanting to do the right thing.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

He finished removing his shirt, and I went to work on his belt, letting out a deep sigh of satisfaction as the leather slipped through his belt loops. He fumbled with my zipper, his fingers eager and clumsy. We were like teenagers stealing a moment in the backseat of a car.

My mouth found his, and our kiss reverberated through me like a bolt of white-hot lightning. My toes literally curled when his tongue brushed against mine and his teeth grazed my lip with a frenzied, demanding need. I pushed his pants down over his butt but couldn’t stop kissing him long enough to push them any farther. Giving up his mouth wasn’t an option.

He tasted of lime, so pure and bright I might as well have been sucking on the fruit itself, but mingled with something sweeter—my own taste in his mouth, like cotton candy.

I abandoned my efforts to disrobe him and drew him closer, pressing my body so close to his the warmth of his skin seemed to melt into me. Everything I had feared from his touch vanished. I didn’t flinch or pull away. I didn’t go to my dark place or imagine myself trapped and helpless.

As Desmond trailed his fingers over every inch of me, deftly ridding me of my pants but leaving my top in place so he could keep kissing me, I felt safe. I felt desired, protected and whole. And it was the first time since my ordeal with The Doctor I didn’t
want
to shrink away from baring myself to someone.

With every touch, kiss and barely masked moan, I felt
alive
. A part of me I’d been hiding away inside myself was being drawn to the surface, and I was complete. I wasn’t foolish enough to think one night of passion would fix me. There were scars that went so deep I didn’t know if they’d ever heal properly. But this was a step. It was a move in the right direction, and it gave me a profound feeling of hope that if we got through the next few days, he and I might be able to make a proper go of our life together.

I broke away from him long enough to say, “Now. Do it now. Now now, please.” My nails raked his chest, then his ass, trying to pull him into me, which was almost impossible with our underwear still in place, but soon mine was gone, his rough hands caressing me gently until I was breathless. I had the wherewithal to get him out of his as I panted senselessly against his neck, each stroke of his fingers pushing me closer to the brink of oblivion.

He knew me, understood how my body worked in ways I couldn’t comprehend. The way he teased and manipulated me was a work of mastery. I felt vibrant and ready to come apart at the seams.

“
Now,
” I begged again. We were preciously low on time. My mind was already getting sluggish, and soon my limbs would become useless and leaden. Sleep was inevitable, but I wanted to tumble into it with a smile on my face and the perfect warmth of an orgasm given to me by the love of my life humming through my nerves. If anything could keep my monsters at bay for one day, that would be it.

He obliged me roughly, like he couldn’t control himself enough to take me slow. I didn’t want his gentle lovemaking right now, though. I wanted it fast and greedy and perfect. Desmond looped his arms around me, holding me against him until we were pressed so tightly together our breaths began to fall in unison. Each thrust brought me closer, like a symphony swelling up towards its crescendo.

I bit down on his shoulder to stifle my scream, letting out a muffled gasp instead as I clawed his back and my vision went hazy. A moment later he shuddered and went still, and we stayed locked together, panting and dazed, until he finally withdrew and we sank back into the comforter.

“I’m a lucky man,” he breathed out, then chuckled.

I rolled onto my side, propping my head up on my hand, and smiled at him. Even in the darkness of the room I could make out his face, and no one had ever looked so perfect to me before. This man was my man. This was the guy I was going to spend my life with. The thought didn’t fill me with dread or nerves the way it had when I agreed to marry Lucas. Choosing Desmond was easy, because it was
right
. He was the one.
The One
, like they talked about in fairy tales or bad romantic comedies.

“I think we both know I’m the lucky one.”