Dark Wolf Running (Bloodrunners) (30 page)

“I’m right here.” Flanked by two guards, Roy Claymore walked around the edge of the house where they’d been keeping Elise and made his way into the street. He was a tall, brawny male, with thick black hair, a crooked nose and the moral code of a rat. “Once again, it looks like the Silvercrest Runners are taking care of the trash for me. First Curtis Donovan, and now my nephews,” he muttered, flicking a disgusted look over Harris’s and Sebastian’s bodies.

“I thought Seb and Harris were your golden boys,” Wyatt growled.

“They were, before they went into heat over the bitch. I never wanted them to leave. That was my brother. He learned what we’d done after her brother killed Danny, and feared it would lead to war. Once the story of what had happened to her began circulating the mountains, we knew the fool hadn’t given her enough of the drug to blank her mind completely. Me, I was ready to test our strength against the Silvercrest. But not my brother. He worried for days that she would remember something that would bring your pack knocking on our door. And in the end he sent his own flesh and blood away, fearing what else they might do to cause trouble. At the time, I thought he was wrong. Now,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw, “well, I begin to see there was some truth in his fear. When I brought them back, I told them to forget her. She’d served her purpose, but there were more important things for us to focus on. But the little idiots just wouldn’t listen,” he ended with a sneer.

“Why did you even want them back in the first place?” Cian asked from Wyatt’s side.

“Because a good leader always invites his soldiers home in time for war.”

“A soldier fights for what’s right,” Wyatt growled. “You and your nephews are nothing more than butchers.”

“Butchers. Monsters. Soldiers.” Roy looked at Elise and smiled. “Rapists. Whatever you want to call us, this
is
a war.”

He could have wasted time arguing with the bastard. Making threats. Venting for all the vile shit this son of a bitch had done. Hell, he would have gone ahead and just killed him then and there, but he didn’t want to risk another fight when Elise needed to be taken somewhere safe. And with Roy’s guards, it would definitely be a fight. That being the case, Wyatt simply lifted the Glock Brody had given him and fired, shooting the Lycan right between the eyes. The wolves at Roy’s sides snarled with outrage, but neither moved to attack, protecting the fallen body of their leader. Wyatt knew that Roy would likely survive the shot, but the healing process was going to hurt like a bitch. And when they next met on the battlefield, he would get his revenge.

“We have to get out of here—
now,
” Cian muttered at his side as they caught sight of more Whiteclaw soldiers coming down the road. Wyatt’s teeth were clenched together too hard for him to speak, so he simply responded with a jerky nod, took Elise from Eric’s arms and headed into the forest with the others.

Minutes later, they were sitting in the back of Mason’s truck while Wyatt held Elise on his lap, his lips at her ear as he told her how proud he was of her. And how incredibly sorry he was that he’d let her down. She didn’t say much in response, but kept her arms wrapped tight around his middle, as if she were exactly where she wanted to be. There were so many things he wanted to say to her about how he felt, but didn’t know how. Until he had all the crazy shit going through his head sorted out, he knew it was best to just keep apologizing. God only knew he owed her at least a thousand apologies, if not more.

And he sure as hell owed her for saving his life.

Without any doubt, Wyatt knew that what he and the others had witnessed had been some form of the powerful Dark Wolf bloodline that flowed through her veins coming to the fore, which left him with so many questions. It was said that a Dark Wolf could only truly awaken when he or she had found their life mate, but without her Lycan senses, there was no way to know for certain if Elise’s wolf had recognized him as its other half. He wanted it so badly—that certainty and the bond. But the fact that she might
never
recognize him on an instinctual level didn’t change how he felt about her or make him want her any less, because there was nothing he would change about her.
Nothing.
The woman was more perfect than anything he could have ever dreamed, and he hoped to God she would decide someday that she needed him as badly as he needed her.

Even though he knew damn well that he didn’t deserve her.

The moment they hit the Alley, everything erupted in a flurry of chaos and activity. They were in the process of organizing a search for Carla, loading up on weapons at Mason and Torrance’s cabin, when Torrance’s cell phone rang. She was standing close to Wyatt, and he noticed her look at the number on the phone’s screen with an odd expression on her face before quickly answering the call. “Carla?”

The petite redhead listened for a moment, then looked at Wyatt and handed the phone over to him. He went into one of the other rooms to talk, where it wasn’t as noisy, since not everyone there had realized he was taking a call. He argued with his partner for a full minute, until she finally hung up on him. Knowing he must look shell-shocked when he came back into the living room, he tried to explain, but all he managed to mutter was a rough “She’s doing it.”

“Doing what?” several of the Runners asked at the same time.

“Carla stole a car and now she’s...” He broke off, looking at Eric and Elise. “I don’t know what’s going on, but Carla said she knows how to find Eli. She’s gone to bring him back home.”

They all looked as confused as he felt. As far as they knew, Carla Reyes and Eli Drake had never even met. Why had she taken off to find him? What had happened to her at that compound? What did she know that they didn’t?

And why in the hell did his partner think Eli Drake was the answer?

Chapter 17

W
hoever had said that guilt was a bitch didn’t know the half of it. An hour after the call from Carla, Wyatt had left Elise at Torrance and Mason’s, where she was still busy helping to patch everyone up. When he’d snuck out of the cabin, Sayre had been trying to aid Cian with a particularly deep cut on his shoulder, and the Irishman had been adamantly refusing. Whatever was going on with those two, he had a feeling it was going to cause a hell of a shit storm when it finally hit.

But at the moment, he had his own colossal fuckup to deal with.

Or not,
his wolf snarled.
Seeing as how you’re running like a coward.

He wasn’t running, damn it. He just needed some time to get himself under control, because every single fucking moment that went by was testing him. Pushing him to his breaking point. The longer he’d stayed near her tonight, the stronger the need had become. His control had been shot to hell, and he knew there wasn’t any getting it back. Not until he’d gotten what he needed. Which was her. Or more specifically, him claiming her sweet little ass and making her
his
...forever.

Unfortunately, that was the last damn thing that Elise needed right now. Christ, after what he’d done, and after she learned the truth about him, he wasn’t sure she would
ever
want it. Which just made him want to howl from the pain and frustration cutting through him like a knife, making his emotions bleed.

He was in the middle of tossing things into the duffel bag he’d set on his bed when Elise came into his bedroom wearing a borrowed shirt and jeans, her blue eyes narrowing as she frowned at him. “Wyatt? You snuck away from there without me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he murmured, tightening his jaw. “I just need to get away for a while.”

“Get away?” she echoed, the quiet words rough with worry. “I don’t understand.”

He swallowed thickly and tried not to look at her as he pulled a few pairs of jeans out of a drawer in his dresser. “I’ll be back,” he scraped out, turning back toward the bed. “I just... I can’t stay here. Not right now.”

“Why? Because of me? What the hell, Wyatt? Is this... Are you dumping me?” Her voice was getting louder, rising with her anger. “You screwed me and now you’re done? Is that how this works?”

He made a hard, thick sound at the back of his throat and shoved both hands back through his hair. “No, damn it! You think I want this? I don’t want to go. It’s the last fucking thing that I want! But you deserve a hell of a lot better than a bastard who constantly screws up losing his control with you!”

“Screws up what?” she asked, the words shivering with emotion. “What are you talking about? You haven’t screwed up. You saved me! Don’t you see that?”

He slanted her a narrow, burning look. “Was I saving you when I let Seb lead me away from you today?”

“Don’t,” she croaked. “Don’t do that, damn it. That was
not
your fault. You were doing what you thought was right.”

He cursed something foul under his breath, then grabbed another handful of clothes and shoved them into the bag. “Feel free to use the cabin while I’m gone. No one will bother you.”

She made a choked sound, and he watched from the corner of his eye as she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “So you’re just going to run? You can’t stay with me while sorting out whatever is going on in that thick head of yours?”

He couldn’t stop his stupid hands from shaking, so he clenched them into fists at his sides. He needed a bloody straitjacket to keep himself in line around her, his body physically aching with the need to grab hold and yank her close. Keeping her there. Forever. “I’m trying to do what’s right.”

“By leaving me?” she asked, swiping at the tears spilling over her cheeks.

The tears were killing him.

Unable to remain still, he turned and took a step toward her, ready to shake some sense into her so that she could finally open her eyes and see the big picture. Finally see that she was too fine and good and beautiful for someone like him, even though it was the last thing in the world he
wanted
her to realize. But guilt was ripping him up, and he heard himself shouting, “I almost got you killed!”

Her chin shot up, those sky-blue eyes blazing fire. “The hell you did. This was not your fault! How many freaking times do I have to say it?”

“You don’t understand,” he argued, cutting his hand through the air in frustration, wanting to knock the shitty reality of this situation right out of the goddamn room, so that he could just do what he wanted. “You don’t—
Shit, Elise!
You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain it,” she snapped, throwing her arms out at her sides, blocking the doorway. Elise figured she had to look like an idiot, but she didn’t care. At that moment, nothing mattered but getting through to him.

A muscle pulsed in his jaw as he turned his head to the side, his bare-chested body rigid with tension, muscles cut beneath his dark skin as if they’d been carved by a blade.

Breathing in rough, jagged bursts, he growled, “This isn’t the first time I’ve fucked up, Elise. When I was younger, I...lost someone.”

Oh! Her insides twisted with unease. “Was she your girlfriend?”

He lowered his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “No. But she was my friend. Her name was Robbie. I wasn’t in love with her, but I loved her like a sister. Like my family.”

“What happened?” she whispered, dreading what he would tell her.

“We, uh, had planned to meet out by the lake on the reservation at midnight to go for a swim. She’d been having a crappy time with her boyfriend and was feeling down. So I’d told her we’d spend the night out at the lake, just goofing off. But I didn’t go. Not when I was meant to.” A bitter laugh slipped from his lips, thick with self-loathing. “I got a call from another girl. So I met up with her instead. Thought there’d be plenty of time to satisfy my own needs, before I kept my word to Robbie.” He lifted his head, looking her right in the eye. “Robbie went early, and some asshole followed her. Then he attacked her. And I wasn’t there. I was too busy getting laid while my friend was being repeatedly raped and nearly beaten to death by some monster. How’s that for heroic?”

“Oh, God, Wyatt. I’m so sorry.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face, and “Yeah” seemed to be all he could get out.

“What happened?” she asked again.

Pacing away from her, he braced his hands on the sides of the window that faced the woods. “I showed up at the lake just as he was leaving her. She looked...” His voice cracked, and he had to swallow before he could go on. “She looked at me and grabbed the knife he’d left on the ground beside her, then slit her own throat.”

“Jesus,” she whispered.

He made a thick sound and shook his head again, as if it could force the grim image out of his mind.

“And the man?” she asked. “You killed him?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “I gutted the son of a bitch with my claws. Just not in time to help her.”

As heart-wrenching a story as it was, Elise was glad that he’d told her, because she understood so much now. Why he didn’t think he was worthy of a relationship, no doubt letting his guilt fester in his soul until it’d completely colored the way he saw himself. And then there were the nightmares that most likely played the girl’s death out before his eyes over...and over. Her heart broke for Robbie, and her heart broke for Wyatt, too. For the pain he’d carried with him all this time, blaming himself for something that was never his fault to begin with.

He flinched when he felt the soft touch of her hand against his shoulder. “So because of what happened, you think the answer is to walk away from me?”

His hands balled into fists against the window frame. “Damn it, you think this is what I want? I’m trying to do what’s right for you.”

“Well, this isn’t right. This sucks! So just stop it!” She was suddenly screeching like a madwoman, but there was no help for it. She felt mad. On edge. Desperate and impassioned.

“I made a promise to you,” he argued hoarsely, pressing his forehead against the glass. “One that I broke by leaving you here, instead of staying to protect you.”