Betrayal: Reckless Desires (Dark Wolves Book 2) (7 page)

“You feel nice,” he said as he gave her breast a gentle squeeze before sliding his hand down to her belly, caressing her skin.

She took a deep breath, and then another. “Will you tell me about her?” she asked.

Wesken stiffened behind her and started to pull away, but she grabbed his hand and held on. “Please?”

He was silent for so long she didn’t think he’d answer. “Her name was Kendra. I found her in the forest one day—injured after an attack—and took her in. She said all the right things, what she knew I wanted to hear. She belonged to one of the strongest, most depraved packs in the Dark Lands. Her Alpha embodied everything we fought against. He killed innocent men and women for no other reason than because he could. He broke the spirit of the ones he didn’t kill, bringing them deeper into the darkness, making them as evil as he was.”

With every word he spoke, his voice grew colder, harsher. Amalija didn’t fully understand everything he said, but the pain rolling off him couldn’t be denied.

“Against Argram’s advice, I made her a part of our pack. Fed her, protected her.” He growled, and the hand that still rested on her belly clenched into a fist. “She lied, she manipulated, yet I didn’t see it. Our pack was ambushed again and again, yet I never suspected a thing. But she was a traitor. The whole time she was with us, she was conspiring against us. Her loyalty was to her Alpha. Had I not been so foolish, many good men would still be alive today.”

His whole body shook against her. “She made her final mistake in trying to kill the Queen of Avalore. Once she attacked, nothing could have saved her. She perished before my eyes. And had she not died in that battle, I would have killed her myself for her treachery.”

Amalija didn’t say a word. How the hell could she tell him she was Mahehkan after hearing all that? He’d think her a traitor just like Kendra. How could he not? She’d kept her secret for years, even before the Mahehkans started attacking. She’d been a coward for hiding from her past and not making those responsible for her suffering pay for their actions. Wanting to move on wasn’t an excuse, not really. She might not have meant to do it, but she had placed each Komoro wolf in danger by keeping silent.

Wesken would never forgive that, even if he hadn’t been there for most of those years.

An aching squeeze started around her chest, making it hard to breathe. She had to get out of there. She’d been wrong in thinking she could come clean with her mate and have him back her with the rest of the pack. Wrong to think she could live a normal life and be happy.

Amalija slipped from his arms and grabbed her clothes, quickly pulling them back on.

“What are you doing? I thought you wanted to go for a swim.” Wesken sat there, watching her, his gaze piercing.

“I’ve changed my mind. We need to get back.” She didn’t look at him as she tossed the remainder of their lunch into the basket. She needed some time to herself to think. She kept moving, shaking out the blanket once Wesken went for his clothes so that he wouldn’t notice the tremble in her fingers or the moisture pooling in her eyes.

***

The change in Amalija was almost instantaneous. As soon as he’d revealed his deepest shame, she had closed herself off from him. Her body, as tight as a bow, shook. She wouldn’t even meet his gaze. Maybe it was for the best. As perfect as their time together had been, he couldn’t afford to get any closer. His wolf was too territorial over this female already. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen once she eventually settled down with another of the males in his pack.

Tension oozed out of her with every step as they made their way back to the village. She didn’t speak, didn’t look at him. Hell, there were times when she was hardly breathing.

He’d wanted to distance himself from her, so why now—when he should be glad to have achieved his goal—did he want to throw his head back and howl? They were almost there when a prickle raced down his spine. Reeking with fear and fury, electricity sizzled in the air.

Amalija peered into the forest. “Something is wrong,” she said before he had a chance to say anything. Without a backward glance, she sprinted off, taking a shorter route to the village, dodging low branches and jagged rocks as she ran.

He followed close behind, grunting when his larger frame knocked into a boulder in a spot where he didn’t quite fit.

Argram’s deafening roar sounded as they entered the village. Birds took flight, creating a moving cloud rising over the treeline at the raucous.

It only took moments to reach the center where the pack had congregated. Argram stood there, his head thrown back, roaring again. At his feet, Miga was on her knees, her hands covering her face as she sobbed. Wesken looked around.
Malec
.

Heart pounding, he rushed over, grabbing his brother’s arm. “What the hell happened? Where’s Malec?” His skin burned as though stung by thousands of voracious insects at once. His wolf rushed forward, needing to protect—to defend.

Argram’s hands fisted at his sides as he looked around, his eyes wilder than Wesken had ever seen them. “Where were you?” he asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

“Tell me what the hell is going on,” Wesken barked right back at him.

Eyes red and puffy, tears still streaming down her cheeks, Miga looked up at him. “They took Malec.”

All Wesken heard was the pounding of his heart as he looked around. He couldn’t have heard right. Malec had to be there somewhere. “Who? Who took him?” Wesken asked before his brother could start roaring again.

Argram shook. The veins in his neck popped, and his muscles twitched in his effort not to shift. “The fucking Mahehkans. I’m going to kill every last one of them.”

“Who’s gone after them?” He looked around, noticing that four of their men were missing. And Orrin had yet to return since the day of the attack.

“Joss, Khet, Rennan, and Blade.” Argram’s words barely passed through his clenched teeth. “I would have gone after them myself had you been here to protect the pack.”

The accusation hit Wesken straight in the chest. He couldn’t even argue the point. Not being able to go after his son would kill Argram. “Brother,” he started.

“I don’t want your excuses. I want my son—”

“Wesken was with me. I asked him to accompany me away from the village.” Amalija interrupted in a shaky voice right next to him.

“Don’t, Amalija,” Wesken warned as he took a step between her and his brother. Argram would never harm a female of their pack under normal circumstances, but the violent energy coming off him proved his lack of control.

Argram looked around him at her, his fists clenching and unclenching.

Wesken met it with a growl of his own. His fingertips burned as he fought to keep his claws from emerging. He stepped fully in front of her. If Argram wanted to get to her, he’d have to go through him to do it.

“Stop, both of you. Just get Malec. Go get our son back,” Miga wailed as she stood, shoving Argram.

It wasn’t until Miga turned toward him that he noticed the deep purple bruise marring the right side of her face and the trickle of dried blood running from her temple to her chest.

Wesken needed to move. Needed to hunt—to destroy. “I’m going after them.”

Argram opened his mouth to object, but Wesken lifted his hand. “I’m the better tracker. Besides, you’re too close. You’re not in control. I love your son almost as much as you do. I will not give up until I have him back. Safe. You have my word.”

Argram looked at him for a moment before finally conceding with a nod. “Bring him home,” he said, his voice thick.

***

The pain in Amalija’s heart had nothing to do with her sorrow at losing her mate before she’d even had the chance to claim him and everything to do with the pain Miga and Argram were going through. What Malec was enduring. The poor little boy had to be so scared. Knowing firsthand how cold and heartless the Mahehkan wolves were, she could only hope that the little guy was unharmed, but she wouldn’t hold her breath.

It had taken all of two seconds for Wesken to shift once Argram had agreed to let him go after the boy. More than anything, she would have liked to have gone with him—tell him all she knew about the camp—but there was no way she could keep up with him in his wolf form. He’d given her one look, then nose to the ground, he’d run.

Amalija heard every heartbroken sob as Argram led his mate to their home. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying along with Miga until Delana wrapped her arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “They’ll find him.”

She nodded and swiped at her tear-streaked cheeks. “They haven’t had him long. Wesken will find him before they hurt him.”

Delana gave her a shaky smile. “What a homecoming. Khet and I got back minutes before everything happened.”

“Can we get anything for Miga? Tea or something to soothe her?” If anyone could help Miga through this, Delana could.

“Of course, I’ll run home and get what I need. You’ll feel better after a shower and rest. Why don’t I come by later to talk? I’m sorry I haven’t been around much since Khet and I were mated.”

Amalija didn’t even want to imagine what kind of sight she presented. As wolves with an excellent sense of smell, she had no doubt that others knew what she and Wesken had been up to. Argram. Miga. Everyone who had been in the center knew. Heat rushed up her cheeks as she brought her hands to her hair.

“Don’t worry. You look fine. I’ll see you in a couple of hours?”

“I’d like that.”

With that, Delana left her standing there. She couldn’t handle being around everyone right then. Too much had happened. Did they blame her and Wesken for the toddler’s abduction? No one said a word. She didn’t get any sideways glances, but guilt still tore through her. They should have been there to help protect everyone.

She hesitated as she climbed the steps to her home. The door was wide open. She walked into the living room. “Is anyone here?” she called out.

As far as she could tell, nothing had been disturbed. Her heart pounded as she peeked in every room, but everything was in place. When she got to the bathroom, she slammed the door open and jumped at the clatter, but found it untouched.

Releasing the breath she’d been holding, she turned the shower on and stripped out of her clothes. Wesken’s scent lingered on her skin, making her ache for him. For her. For what they should have had and never would. Because even if he would have been able to forgive her before they reached the village—knowing what the Mahehkans had done, what they likely were doing to his young nephew—he never would be able to look at her without feeling the bitter sting of her betrayal.

By the time she stepped out from under the water’s spray, her throat was raw, and her tears no longer slid down her cheeks. She’d talk to Delana, get her advice, and decide what to do then. For now, she’d make her tea and soothe her throat for the long heart-to-heart to come.

She hadn’t taken two steps into the kitchen when she saw it. A page, ripped from one of her books, sat on the table next to a black marker. The top drawer at the end of her counter was on the floor, the contents strewn all around.

Her fingers trembled as she picked up the note.

He wants you. I have the boy. Let’s trade.

You have six hours before he feels it.

You know where to find me.

Vincent

Amalija’s heart thundered, and her vision darkened around the edges. Other than the Alpha, Vincent was the meanest, most heartless male the Mahehkan pack had. He had watched and laughed as other males had raped his sister. Had held her head up, forcing her to watch. Her scalp stung with the remembered pain of his fist in her hair.
That
bastard had Malec.

Wesken had their scents. If they weren’t already dead, three fucking Mahehkans would lose their lives when he caught up. After an hour of tracking in heavy brush and rough terrain, the stronger, fresher scent of his prey finally reached him. His pack mates were close, too. If they hadn’t slaughtered the bastards before he arrived, he would the rip their heads off with his teeth and bathe in their blood.

Just ahead, growls and snarls rumbled, long and loud. He’d recognize his pack brothers anywhere. Khet and Rennan. If he knew them, and he did, Joss and Blade would have already made their way around, blocking the enemy’s escape.

Wesken crested a steep hill going full speed. On the other side, Khet had one wolf’s neck in his huge jaws. Unseeing eyes stared up at the sky. Rennan had the other in his sights. The hair on his scruff stood on end, and vicious snarls kept the second wolf frozen in terror next to a boulder. There was no escape.

Wesken’s gaze darted from one wolf shifter to the other, desperate, seeking. Where the hell was Malec? He leaped over his pack brothers, trusting them to deal with the one remaining wolf as he chased down the third. His heart stuttered as he sniffed the air. At no point since he’d left the village had he caught Malec’s scent. All that meant was that he’d been carried. A toddler couldn’t walk all that way and leave a trail like an adult male or a wolf did.

A high-pitched yelp a hundred feet ahead had him running harder—faster—than he’d ever run before. Joss circled an injured wolf. Bright red blood oozed from a gash on Joss’s flank, but he didn’t back down. With an ominous growl, Joss threw himself at the enemy. More than anything, he wanted to join in the scuffle, but Joss had something to prove. They’d been working with him—preparing him—since they had joined the Komoro pack. Now he’d demonstrate his worth as a warrior.