Call of the Wolf (19 page)

She glanced at him in irritation when she saw he'd turned at the sink and leaned back against the counter, his arms folded over his broad chest. “Well, if any of you were thinking about converting me...!"

"We weren't."

As indignant—and, yes, frightened—as she'd been at the thought of them trying to ‘infect’ her so that she'd be a Were, his calm denial stung. “Why not?"

"Because human females rarely survive the transformation. That's not acceptable."

She studied him for a long moment, waiting for him to say more, hoping he would. When he didn't it seemed to confirm her suspicion that they hadn't had any designs on her at all—no intentions. That hurt worse than thinking they just lusted after her. A lump rose in her throat. She didn't think she could say more if she tried, and she discovered she didn't really want clarification. Nodding, she got up abruptly and left, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

As good as the omelet had been, as hungry as she'd been when she started, it sat like a rock in the pit of her stomach now. She felt vaguely nauseated. The temptation arose to stalk to her door and lock it for good measure, but she resisted the impulse. It would only emphasize her state of mind, and it was useless, she knew, in keeping them out if they wanted to come in. The damned thing had never been quite the same from the last time they'd knocked it down.

In any case, the depression that descended on her in conjunction with everything else, was just too wearing. Discarding her clothes, she climbed into her bed, cuddled her pillow under cheek and resolutely closed her eyes. For a while, a mixture of disturbing images and thoughts rattled around in her brain, but eventually she found the peaceful nothingness she'd sought.

* * * *

Cameron turned to glare at Seth angrily. “You did not think it worth the effort to try to explain? Or do you think we will find more time to do so?"

Seth scowled at him. “Did she
look
receptive to you? Because she sure as hell didn't look receptive to the idea to me, god's damn it! It's too much, too fast!"

"Well, it ain't as if we've got time to fucking break it to her gently!” Jerico snapped. “She'll be expected at the dance tonight like all the others! And if she ain't there, it's going to be damned uncomfortable, to say the least!"

Seth threw up his hands. “Feel free! Go tell her that we dragged her into this and now she's goin’ to have to take part in the fuckin’ hunt tomorrow night!"

Jerico glared at him, turned to look across the hall at Abby's door, and subsided into a sulk.

"You didn't think this through very well, did you,
mon ami
?” Cameron commented sardonically.

Seth narrowed his eyes at him, but his complexion darkened with discomfort. “No, I didn't fuckin’ think it through!” he said testily. “Because I haven't been able to fuckin’ think straight since I met her!"

"An’ you haven't had your mind on anything but seein’ how fast you could get her in your bed!"

"And you haven't had your mind on that at all?"

Cameron uttered a snort of wry amusement. “I never denied it. You chose to spearhead the campaign, however. You laid the ground rules. We've only been followin’ your lead."

"Blame it on me if it makes you feel any damn better,” Seth growled. “You've got hindsight, now. Why don't you tell me what we could've done differently?"

Cameron shrugged. “Nothing occurs to me ... except that we might all have enjoyed this better if we
had
gotten her into our beds sooner, and, mayhap, we could've thought more clearly if we had. At the very least, we might have enjoyed tryin’ to convince her a bit more. Now we will have nothin’ to show for our efforts at all beyond that ‘not completely satisfactory’ claimin’ we fought over a bit ago."

"I don't think she found it particularly satisfactory either,” Seth muttered.

"She said that?” Adrian asked uncomfortably.

"She came four times!” Jerico said a little indignantly. “We must have done
something
right!"

"Don't start that again!” Seth snarled. “We'll be a hell of a lot better off to focus on what we can do now to turn the situation to our advantage than to dwell on what we already fucked up!"

"At least now she knows,” Jerico said philosophically. “We're over that hurtle."

Adrian, Seth, and Cameron turned to stare him with varying degrees of disgust.

"What?"

Seth shook his head, turning to survey the table and chairs. “I think we're goin’ to have to replace that. We need to start a list and get rid of the stuff that's hopeless."

"You and Cameron smashed her mirror, too,” Jerico said helpfully.

Cameron glared at him, but then thought it over. “Anything else in there?"

"Not that I can recall. You should go look."

"I doan think so,
mon ami
!” Cameron retorted. “She slammed the door. That's woman speak for ‘I'll cut your heart out if you open it'."

Seth nodded. “I don't like the idea of leavin’ her in there broodin', though. There's no tellin’ what kind of mood she'll be in when she comes out again."

"She'll be in a better mood if we've gotten everything back together,” Adrian said decisively, grabbing a chair and heading for the back door.

"She liked the looks of those antiques at the fair,” Jerico said. “I think I'll pick up a few pieces to replace what we broke."

"Better not!” Cameron said warningly. “They like to pick out things themselves."

"I got the impression that was one of the things that had her so pissed off when she first got here—the Feds had ‘decorated’ for her,” Seth agreed. “We'll take her, let her point out what she likes, and then ‘surprise’ her. That always works best."

Grabbing another chair, Cameron followed the others out as they picked up the pieces. “Doan it strike you as strange that Fed was down here one day and the gang the next?"

"Damned strange!” Seth agreed grimly. “Either the bastard wasn't careful enough and led them right to her, or he took a bribe and set her up. Either way, he's a dead mother fucker when I get my hands on him."

Cameron and Adrian both sent him a look of respect. “You've mellowed,” Adrian commented. “Time was you would've already taken the bastard out."

Seth's expression tightened. “I can't leave now or I would've. The hit men won't be reportin’ in. Even if they aren't independents—which is a good possibility—and the gang knew they were supposed to make the hit today, I figure we've got a little time—enough to take care of pack business first."

Cameron frowned. “You know,
mon ami
, once we eliminate the threat, there won't be no reason for her to stay."

"I know."

"You not plannin’ on tellin’ her?"

Seth met his gaze. “I'm plannin’ on tellin’ her."

Cameron held his gaze for a long moment and finally looked away. “Either you've got a lot more confidence she'll choose to stay with us than I have, or it doan matter."

"It matters,” Seth said grimly.

* * * *

Abby wasn't so sure the nap had been the best idea she'd ever had. She felt better in some respects—not as emotionally fragile as she had before—but she was so stiff and sore it took an effort to crawl out of the bed. After trying to stretch some of the kinks out, she finally decided a hot shower was her only hope. Too lazy to dress, she grabbed her robe and slipped into it, although it occurred to her that there didn't seem much reason to worry about running around naked.

She thought they could probably contain themselves.

Pushing the depressing thought to the back of her mind, she headed to the bathroom, but then decided a hot soak in the tub seemed more in order than a shower. After rifling through the boxes in the bathroom, she finally found the bubble bath and sprinkled it generously under the tap.

She didn't particularly want to ponder everything that had happened but, despite the soothing aspects of the bath, she discovered it was impossible to avoid her thoughts. She had napped. It was all the respite she was likely to get.

Her run in with the hit men, though ... she relegated that to the far back of her mind where she'd sunk as many of the unpleasant experiences as she could. She could only deal with so much and she was safe for now, from them, at least.

The wolfen?

She realized she believed she was safe with them—from them. It wasn't just that she'd lived and worked among them. It was the fact that they'd come when she'd needed them and rescued her from the men who would've killed her—might've killed them for trying to help her.

She was still having trouble coming to terms with what she'd seen them do, accepting that they weren't what they'd always appeared to her to be. As frightening as they'd looked in half shift, as Seth had called it, and despite what they were capable of, though, she realized she didn't think of them as monsters—because they weren't, not in any sense of the word.

She thought she was more of a threat to them than they were to her.

The men who'd come after her were professionals.

How likely was it, she wondered, that it was an isolated event? Was it possible that they'd merely ‘lucked out’ and tracked her down on their own? Or was it far more likely that the vast network of the Russian mob itself had tracked her down and sent someone to clean up?

She shivered at the thought, growing aware that her bathwater had cooled while she'd contemplated the situation. Sitting up, she opened the drain and got out to dry off.

The hit men clinched the matter, she thought glumly. Nothing else really mattered—not how she felt, not whether Seth or any of the others had more than a passing interest in her, or how reluctant she was to have to start over. She might have had an option before—though she wasn't sure Agent Milner would agree with that. Now she didn't. She
had
to go and the sooner the better.

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Chapter Fourteen

The house was surprisingly quiet when Abby left the bathroom. As preoccupied as she was with her unpleasant thoughts, she paused to listen, wondering if she had the house to herself, and finally decided she must.

Oddly enough the realization didn't alarm her. She wondered if she was still just too dull with the tranquilizer the doctor had given her to feel the things she should've, and probably would've, or if she'd been lulled to a sense of security by the elimination of the threat earlier.

If it was the latter, it was certainly a false sense of security even though she supposed it eliminated the likelihood that she was in imminent danger. She couldn't imagine anyone would've seen the necessity of sending more than two hit men to take care of her. It would be a while before they realized things hadn't gone as planned and sent someone else.

She had a reprieve to get her affairs in order and flee.

When she'd dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a T, she called the principal at the school to make certain arrangements had been made to take care of her class. She hesitated over whether to tell the woman she should be looking around for a permanent replacement and finally decided to err on the side of caution. Instead, she simply agreed with Mrs. Caruthers that she needed a few days off before she returned. She hated leaving without giving them any more warning than that, but she didn't think she could afford to do anything else.

She was both relieved and a little puzzled that Mrs. Caruthers didn't pressure her for any details about the incident. Maybe Seth had thought up some story to tell her?

When she'd hung up, she sat down on the edge of her bed, staring at nothing in particular, allowing her mind to wander at will for a while. It wove a path back and forth between the attack and the wild sex orgy she'd been treated to.

A faint smile curled her lips at the thought. It
had
been a treat, she acknowledged. She thought she could safely say it had been just what she'd needed—an outlet for the explosive emotions bottled inside of her and reaffirmation of life.

It
had
been as reassuring, she realized with a touch of surprise, as it had been a release. She couldn't honestly say what had inspired them to do it, or what might have been going through their minds, but the message they'd conveyed in the very desperation of their couplings had said to her that
they
needed reassurance that she was alive and well.

She doubted it had meant anything of the kind—to them—but that was what she'd felt from the moment Seth had grabbed her up in a nearly crushing embrace—fear of loss.

Her throat tightened with emotion. She cared about them. Maybe it was the direness of her situation, and maybe not. She wasn't certain she'd ever really know, or be able to sort it out, or that it would make any difference if she could sort it in her mind. Emotionally, she was firmly attached to them.

Maybe, to them, it was nothing more than ‘the job’ of watching out for her and a purely male interest in collecting a sexual reward for their trouble, but they'd become the only safe harbor she'd known—maybe ever—certainly in years. It was going to be hell giving that up, going back to being afraid every moment of every day. She was going to miss them, miss everything about them, not just the sense of security they gave her.

She had enjoyed their flirting. She relished the way they made her feel as a woman—beautiful, desirable. She'd taken pleasure in looking at them and listening to them in a purely aesthetic sense because they were such fine specimens—handsome, well built, their deep, male voices and accents pleasing to her ears whatever they said. She thought she enjoyed listening to the banter between them most of all. Even if she was just an outsider looking in, being with them had given her the chance to experience, at least second hand, what being part of such a tight knit group was like.

She hadn't even felt that when she'd still been relatively close to other members of her family. Maybe that was why she'd allowed herself to drift away from them to start with?

Heaving a despondent sigh, she pushed herself upright and resolutely thrust her thoughts to the back of her mind. She really couldn't afford to dwell on maudlin thoughts. It would get her killed—maybe other people, too.

She needed to call the bureau and tell them what had happened. She supposed Seth had probably already reported what had happened, though. Maybe she should just wait and ask him what arrangements were being made?

She wasn't that anxious to face it, she realized, or it wouldn't even have occurred to her to delegate that task.

There wasn't really much point in both of them calling, though, was there?

She was going to have to be careful, next time, not to get involved with anybody. Of course, it seemed doubtful that she would have to worry about running into anyone like Seth, who was instantly suspicious and exposed her in about ten seconds flat, she thought wryly. Still, it was a hard lesson. She couldn't afford to make another mistake like the one she'd made here. She was going to have to keep to herself as much as possible until she'd gotten the hang of the role she was trying to play.

After staring around her room vacantly for a few minutes, she finally decided that she would sort through her belongings. Chances were, after this fiasco, the Feds wouldn't pack everything up for her again and move it. In any case, she knew they didn't know or care what things held the most personal significance for her. She wanted to keep what few mementoes she still had.

She'd emptied one of the boxes on her coverlet and was sorting through it when she heard a faint sound and looked up to discover that Cameron was standing in the doorway to her room. A jolt of surprise went through her. “I thought everyone was gone."

Something flickered in his eyes. “You should've known better,
chère.
No way would we leave you alone after what happened this mornin'."

Abby felt uneasiness waft through her. “You don't think they'd try anything else ... so soon?"

A frown flickered across his features. “No, we doan,
chère,
but that doan mean we're willin’ to take the chance."

Abby nodded, relieved that the others seemed to agree with her own assessment of the situation. That didn't mean they were right, of course, but it still made her feel better.

"What are you looking for?"

Abby shrugged. “They ... the Feds don't let me pack,” she said wryly. “I figured I'd sort through everything while I had the chance and collect a few personal things so I could take them with me."

Cameron pushed away from the door and crossed the room. Curling his fingers around one arm, he tugged her around and pulled her against him. “You plannin’ on runnin’ out on us,
mon amour?"
he asked in a husky voice that seemed almost teasing.

Sighing, Abby leaned against him, looping her arms around his waist. The warmth and solidness of his form instantly flooded her with a sense of comfort. She closed her eyes, savoring it. Images from the attack flitted through her mind, too, but she discovered, as horrific as they were, they didn't dispel the sense of security his touch and his scent gave her. Maybe they should have—and maybe they didn't because she hadn't felt threatened by him, or any of the others, any of the time. “I've learned not to make plans,” she responded wryly. She didn't really want to address the inevitability of the situation, but there didn't seem to be any point in trying to avoid it. “They're not going to let me stay—not after what happened."

He stroked a hand lightly over her head and down along her spine. “It's not their decision,” he said, his voice harder now. “It's yours."

Abby pulled away and looked up at him. “The mob knows where I am now. It's not safe for me, or anybody else, for me to stay here."

He released her when she pulled away.

She shook her head. “It's just a miracle nobody was hurt,” she said almost angrily. “I don't know what those fools were thinking to put me in a school. The children.... “She broke off, unable to voice the thought aloud. She'd been trying really hard not to think about it, but she thought the possibilities of what might have happened bothered her as much, maybe more, than what actually had. She'd been afraid during those moments when she'd realized her life was in danger, frightened when she was fighting for her life, but she hadn't just been afraid for herself, and there'd been as much savage thirst to avenge what they'd done to Seth and Adrian in her battle with the hit man as desperation to save her life. “I'm going to have nightmares.... I keep seeing Seth and Adrian when they shot them, over and over in my head. Everything keeps replaying in my mind, over and over—the things that
did
happen, the things that
might
have happened."

She shuddered. Turning away from him, she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing at the goose bumps that rose along her arms.

Cameron moved up behind her. Gathering her against his warmth again, he held her snugly, propping his chin on top of her head for a moment before he bent is head to nestle the side of his face against hers, placing a kiss on her shoulder that gave rise to a fresh rash of pebbling skin of an entirely different nature. “Try to push these images from your mind,
chère.
There is no sense in torturin’ yourself with things that did not happen."

Abby agreed to a degree. “Maybe, but it could have. It might still if I stayed."

"It will not,” Cameron said, his voice harsh, filled with conviction.

She tried to turn to look at him, but he tightened his hold, perhaps because he thought she just meant to withdraw from him.

"Do you believe, even for a moment, that I—any of us—would ever allow harm to come to you?"

Anger threaded his voice.

Abby released a pent up breath of frustration. “If I'd had any doubts before—which I really didn't—I certainly don't now, not after what happened. I don't want anybody to get hurt because of me, though, Cameron! I don't even want to take the chance that they might! I wouldn't stay and take that chance even if they'd allow it. And they aren't going to, not when their job is to keep me alive. I don't know how the mob managed to trace me here, but they must have—and that means they'll just send somebody else. I can't take the chance, anyway, that those two were just hit men without a connection to the mob."

He loosened his hold on her but only so that he could turn her to face him. “This has nothin’ to do with us?"

Surprise flickered through her. His meaning dawned on her fairly quickly, though. She shook her head slightly, feeling a mixture of guilt and anger at the suggestion. She hadn't come to grips with that discovery. She hadn't had time to and it was unfair of him to expect it of her. “I almost got killed today, Cameron. It could be the same thing tomorrow, or next week, or next month if I stayed here. Seth and Adrian could've died ... because of me. Those sweet children I teach could be laying in the morgue now! Don't make this in to something it's not!"

His lips tightened. “Just tell me ... if none of that had happened, and you'd learned what we are, would you run?"

"That's not fair! Not at all! How can I know that?"

"You do know,
chère."

She scanned his face, trying to picture Cameron as she'd seen him and the others before. It was odd, but she couldn't really summon it, couldn't think of him as one of the ‘monsters’ she'd seen. She still didn't know, though, if that was from the shock of the attack or if she would've felt differently otherwise. “I don't feel any differently about you ... or any of the others, now, than I did before,” she said as carefully and honestly as she could.

She realized as soon as she said it that that wasn't strictly true.

She felt
more
than she'd felt before—humility and gratitude that they'd risked so much for her, admiration that went beyond an appreciation of their charm and good looks.

They'd saved her life. If they hadn't come, if they hadn't brought all of their friends, she'd be dead now.

He must have seen some of her thoughts in her expression. She saw doubts reflected in his, a touch of anger, frustration. There was nothing tentative about his touch when Cameron dragged her against him and lowered his mouth to hers, though. It was almost as if he wanted to frighten her with his aggressiveness, wanted to push her away, wanted to show her the beast was still there, inside.

It didn't work. Doubt flickered in her own mind of the wisdom of allowing it when she knew she had to leave, and yet she thought that only fueled the fire, the realization that it might be the last time she felt Cameron's touch.

Or maybe not. Her thoughts were chaotic, churned to mush by the heat that instantly swarmed through her the moment Cameron pulled her to him and she registered his intent. She lifted her mouth for his kiss, skimmed her palms up his chest to grasp his neck and pull him to her even as he drew her close. The heat of his mouth seared the tender skin of her lips the moment their mouths melded. The first draft of his essence intoxicated her, filled her with heady delight as it brought every corner of her psyche to vibrant life.

He tightened his arms around her as stroked his tongue rhythmically along hers, slipping a hand down her back to cup her buttocks and press her pelvis against his. She strained to get closer still, curling her hips to match his movements, welcoming the achy pleasure that clenched in her belly in time to his tempo.