Caged Wolf (Wolves of Willow Bend Book 2) (11 page)

Yet, I can feel his glower from here.
A.J. might have spent years in a cage, but he’d have to be deaf, dumb, blind, and stupid—maybe even dead—to miss the wolf’s attention on Gillian. He didn’t like her nearness to A.J.. Worse, he didn’t like her paying attention to him.

For A.J.’s part, he’d be fine if Gillian walked away.  His focus remained on the house. Vivian had gone in to speak to Emma. The healer had made it perfectly clear A.J. could keep his ass outside and wait. He’d been fine with the request until someone inside turned on white noise. Like nails on a chalkboard, it played like a low level hum and occluded the women’s voices, so he couldn’t hear what they discussed.

“Emma will take good care of her,” Gillian said, a soft, low soothing note in her voice. She did that, she soothed people. Sunshine and softness, hard to be irritated or even upset around her. Her wolf was a natural submissive, a truly gracious and gifted animal who eased the aggravations of the dominants. The need to protect her kept their tempers in check.

Owen’s stance changed, a fraction of a shift, but his gaze bored into A.J.’s skull.

Correction, she soothes everyone but him.
Amused at the turn of his thoughts, he almost smiled. The little wolf poked him and A.J. spared her a look. Oh, he hadn’t responded to her comment. “Yes,” he said, dredging up the words. “I know.” Weird, he had no problem talking to Vivian, but it took real effort to say something to Gillian.

A scowl marred her pretty little face, but flitted away as quickly as it arrived. “You’re upset.”

“I’m fine.” Certainly they had plenty of others who needed her attention. Not put off by his dismissal, she touched his arm with two fingers, a bare brush and he withdrew from the touch.

“No you’re not.” She sighed, but at his quick look, she held up her hands as though to placate him with surrender. “I, however, will leave you to Emma’s mercies.”

Hopping off the edge of the truck, she walked away. Guilt slapped at A.J.. His intention hadn’t been to make her feel bad. “Gillian,” he called and she paused, pivoting in place to face him. “I’m as fine as I can be.” She didn’t deserve his ire and, even if she’d been an adult when all of this went down, she was only a few years younger than him.

“I know,” she said, a sudden smile lighting her face. “But you’re sad. And you’re worried. Your—friend will be okay.”  Though she tried to cover it, she’d hesitated on the word friend.

“Thank you.” He hoped she was correct. Emma would figure out what ailed Vivian. A truly gifted healer, she also had something rare among the modern packs—a medical license. She’d gone to med school twice, once when she was younger and again in the last couple of decades to brush up on the changes in medicine.

When he was fifteen, he’d broken his arm. It was the third time that summer he’d had such an injury. She’d cleaned him up, splinted the arm, then fashioned a cast and made him heal the old fashioned way. If he couldn’t be bothered to be more careful, she wasn’t wasting precious healing energy on him.

The memory crept out of the past to ambush him. Wistful laughter eased around the black concern preoccupying his thoughts, and he glanced toward the house. He could almost taste Vivian’s laughter at the concept. The sudden need to share that story and more scraped at the inside of his skin, an irritation he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around.

By the time he remembered Gillian, the younger healer had disappeared, probably to her own home. As Emma’s apprentice, she stayed at the older healer’s home more often than not, but Gillian still had her own place. Wolves needed a place, territory, even small patches of it to call their own within the greater fabric of the pack.

I’m going to have to find a place.
His parents’ home was wonderful, and he loved them, but several hours into staying at the cabin and he already preferred it to the crowded confines of the Buckley family home.  Motivated, he turned his attention on his brothers. Before he could finish the thought, however, the front door opened.

“Andrew,” Emma called. Shooting to his feet, he crossed to the porch with fast, easy strides. Bemused, the older woman let him press a kiss to her cheek—an action so automatic, he’d done it without thinking—before she stepped back and allowed him into her home. “Come in. We’re having tea and cookies.” Inside, the white noise player threatened to make his ears bleed.

He made it to the living room and had Vivian in his sights before the faint scents of the Alpha registered. “Mason was here?” Fury rippled through him. Was that why the white noise had been turned on? So Mason could interrogate her without him knowing?

“Yes.” Vivian’s eyes looked too large and, though she’d wiped her face, he spotted the evidence of damp trails beneath her eyes. He paced over to the sofa and touched her chin. The salt of her tears lingered in the air around her.

“What did he do?” The last thing he’d wanted to come home to was a fight, but fuck Mason if he wouldn’t keep his word.

“He came to get his mate.” Emma gave him a light smack on the shoulder and pointed to the sofa. “Sit.”

Needing no further encouragement, he settled on the sofa. To his immense gratification Vivian leaned into him rather than away, her thigh pressed firmly to his. “Alexis was here?” Temper mollified some, he slid an arm around Vivian. She didn’t seem upset over the mention of the Alpha’s mate.

“Yes, she snuck in.” In fact, she almost sounded amused. “She wanted to talk to me about you, but Mason came and hustled her away. I’m not pack, so I’m not privy to the details.” The faintest of tremors echoed in her last words.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” Anything to make the sadness go away. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?”

“I called you in to examine you.” Emma’s answer was not the one he expected. She poured a fresh cup of tea for Vivian, then offered one to him. He’d sooner drink bleach, but refusing the healer’s graciousness in her household would get A.J. killed

By his mother, most likely. So he took the tiny china cup in hand and tested the scent.

“It’s just regular tea, nothing medicinal.” But Emma didn’t bother to hide her laughter. She enjoyed tweaking him.

Grateful, he drank the tea down in one gulp despite the temperature. After a minute, he decided he’d been right in his earlier assessment. He’d have preferred bleach. “Thank you.”

“And graciously done, too.” The older woman nudged aside the silver tray and took a seat on the table opposite them. When she took his hand in hers, he didn’t yank away. No, he gripped Vivian’s hand with his free one and submitted to Emma’s inspection.

The tingling warmth of healing energy poured through him. The effect was much like pins and needles waking nerves he hadn’t even realized were asleep. The comfort of Vivian at his side and Emma across from him combined with his brothers waiting outside surrounded him in the bosom of pack. He closed his eyes and drank it all in, a soaking rain to his parched soul.

When Emma squeezed his hand and released him, he opened his eyes. Vivian slept with her head tucked to his shoulder, and a peace he hadn’t even known he missed filled the empty gaps in his soul. “You’re healing on your own,” Emma said, her soft voice offering no danger of waking Vivian.

“I wasn’t injured.” He’d had his share of fights in the prison and taken more than one beating, but nothing he couldn’t heal from.

“Physically? I would argue yes, you were injured.” No archness made light of the situation in her tone. “But, inside? Your wolf is very battered and he hurts more than you have allowed yourself to realize.”

Apprehension tightened around his lungs. He didn’t want to discuss it. Emma touched his arm again.

“Easy, Andrew. Your woman is asleep and the white noise still plays. No one beyond you and I will know this.” She didn’t have to offer a promise. The healer, more than most, stood beyond the pack structure for dominance and orders. Even if Mason bellowed at her, not that he would, she would reveal nothing unless she felt it necessary for the health of the whole pack. His secret was safe with her.

Vivian won’t tell either.
The certainty of his inner voice reminded him that she had kept his secrets, all of them, without flinching and at great personal cost. She continued to risk her safety amongst his pack to protect him. The soft cadence of Vivian’s breathing soothed him, and he adjusted his hold to make her more comfortable.

When she didn’t stir, he smiled.  No, Vivian wouldn’t tell. Saying aloud the darkest fear plaguing him could do no harm. “I haven’t shifted in seven years, Emma.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Maternal caring and gentle understanding rolled off her in waves. “But your wolf is not dead, nor is he fully beaten. He is injured and he hurts—
you hurt
. You are both healing.” Then she glanced at Vivian with speculation in her eyes.

“You can help her, right?”  When Emma didn’t reply immediately, another icy sliver of worry dug into his soul. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I
think
I know, but I need to do some research.” The healer gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

“So you’re not going to tell me?” Ordering her was out of the question. She didn’t have to obey him and, again, his mother would knock him out if he tried to pull such a stunt.

“I can tell you what she thinks is wrong.” Evasive answers were not Emma’s normal style.

“She told me she’s had fugues.”
Lost time. Found herself in the middle of nowhere
. It made his gut hurt to think of her out there, vulnerable and alone.  He’d seen some evidence in her behavior earlier, and recognized it in the spike of sour wrongness in her scent. “That she spent some time in a hospital.” A nervous breakdown wasn’t totally out of the question. She’d been through hell.

And she won’t be anymore.
He would see to it.

After reclaiming her teacup, Emma moved over to her chair and took a seat. She studied them with a contemplative frown. He knew better than to rush her. Emma would speak when she was damn good and ready.

“She’s been told she has a brain tumor.” Only the careful way Emma phrased the statement kept him from throwing his head back and roaring. Fury collided with concern and his eyes shifted—a first for him in years—and he felt the scorching heat of the wolf’s breath as though the animal stood outside of him.

Emma raised her eyebrows, but avoided meeting his gaze directly.

Leashing the wild need took real effort, and he exhaled a harsh breath past his clenched teeth.  “She’s been told?” He managed the question, though it came out guttural and vibrated with a growl he couldn’t swallow.

“Yes, her doctors have told her this, though they couldn’t show her evidence of it on a scan. From what she’s told me, they stated it’s the only prognosis they can attribute to her anomalous brain activity.” Everything in Emma’s tone cried out her skepticism.

“You think she’s lying?”

She shook her head. “No. I think she was told that and I think she clings to it as the only possible explanation. The place she wants to go to, in Arizona?”

“It’s a hospital.” The pieces snapped into place.

“Yes, a lockdown facility. They’ll keep her restrained if necessary and prevent her from escaping.”

A cage.
She was consigning herself to life in a cage. He lost the power of speech. He wanted to scoop her up and run all the way back to the cabin. Then he wanted to paddle her silly for even considering letting herself be locked away again.  Yes, spanking her for such a poor decision in taking care of herself sounded good to him. Not hard enough to injure, but enough to make her understand.

“When you’re done seething, let me know.” Utterly nonplussed by the anger spewing like an infection into his veins, Emma sipped her tea and waited.

Closing his eyes, he rubbed his thumb along the soft skin of Vivian’s arm, grounding himself in the feel of her. “You think they’re wrong?”
Please say you do.
He would believe Emma.

“I am not sure what to think.” She hedged her answer carefully. “Hence my wish to research it. For now, I will advise plenty of rest and a reduction in stress. It is my understanding Mason gave you three days.”

Yes, and he’d nearly wasted the first one. Not trusting himself to not snarl, he nodded.

“Take her back to the cabin. Eat, sleep, talk—play. Be together.” She set her teacup aside and retrieved her knitting. “Oh, and turn that damned noise off on your way out.”

Dismissed, he fought against the urge to press for more answers. He wanted to demand them, but Emma was through. Nothing he said would sway her and he’d wasted enough of his precious hours already. Gathering the slight weight of Vivian into his arms, he rose with her. She burrowed against him, rubbing her cheek to his chest and continued to sleep deeply. Pure exhaustion held her captive at the moment.

“Thank you, Emma.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Remember what I said. Eat. Sleep. Play.”

He would. It took little to turn off the white noise on his way past, and he carried Vivian out to the truck. His brothers leapt to their feet and he allowed Linc to drive while he cradled Vivian in his lap. The trip back to the cabin went quickly. The woman in his arms didn’t wake, not once, not even when he bid his brothers farewell and carried her through the trees toward the cabin.  

 A brain tumor. He growled. Emma was a healer. She could alleviate all but the most fatal of wounds—
in wolves.

A.J. glanced at Vivian. She was human.

But she didn’t have to be.

The scents of grilled onions, steak, and fresh coffee twining together in a powerful combination greeted Vivian when she opened her eyes. Her stomach growled and the discomfort of hunger, combined with the heat of a too heavy blanket, had her sitting, then shoving the blankets away.

Groggy, she struggled to identify her location. Unease and anxiety twisted her insides into knots. Had she wandered off again? The room was dark save a single lamp with a low-watt bulb offering a warm yellow glow. The tree bark walls, the earth-toned pinwheel quilt, and the heavy thatched rugs on the wooden floor all cried out cabin in the woods.