Dire Desires: A Novel of the Eternal Wolf Clan (17 page)

V
ice heard
the yelling in his s
leep, assumed it was someone having good sex and ignored it. After ten minutes, he realized it was distress and that it was coming from the basement rooms where Max was being held.

Gwen checked on her several times a day, typically with Rifter. Vice seemed to set her off too much and, as he wanted nothing to do with her, that was fine by him.

But tonight, it seemed like he was the only one home. Maybe Gwen was out running with Rifter—Vice had come in early, mainly to sleep so he could forget about brooding and worrying, because there was so much shit going on he couldn’t control or help with.

He missed Jinx. And Rogue. And Eydis. Had no idea how the hell they were going to deal with all of them. Was worried about Liam and the responsibilities the young king faced and, hell, Vice was charged with helping him.

When the hell had anyone decided putting him in charge of helping someone was a good idea?

Yeah, so much for sleeping off the worry. He definitely regretted coming home when he looked into the double-paned glass and saw Max doubled over. Between her legs was a puddle of water with some blood mixed in, so no, this wasn’t her faking to try to escape. This was the real thing, weeks overdue.

He stood there, watching for a few minutes. She hadn’t seen him, wasn’t really yelling for anyone in particular. She was just yelling because of the pain. Then she’d pace and double over again as another contraction hit her.

Having this baby signed her death warrant. He tried to muster up sympathy for her and failed. He’d save it all for the pup she carried.

And, it was for that pup that he unlocked the door and went to help her.

“Vice, the baby’s coming.”

“No shit.”

She ignored that, grabbed his arm and proceeded to attempt to crush it as she went through another contraction. When she finished, he managed to get her onto the bed, covered her up and noted that Gwen had already gotten a few things together for the baby.

He pulled out his phone and left Gwen a message. And Rifter. Stray and Killian too, for good measure, and the twins. Figured he’d keep Liam out of that loop, for obvious reasons.

“You’re going to have to hold out until Gwen gets here,” he told Max, who glared at him.

“This might be my first baby, but you and I both know you don’t tell a baby to stay inside.”

She looked tired. Defeated. She’d been locked in here for weeks, knowing there was no way out. She’d betrayed Liam in the worst way possible, and she’d have to pay.

“I came to terms with what’s going to happen to me weeks ago,” she told him now. “Please, just let me have the baby and then Liam can have his honor back.”

That was damned important to Vice for sure. But still, delivering a baby was not on his list of priorities or his bucket list. Ever.

“Baby!” Vice yelled in the loudest voice he could—Marine voice—but no one heard him. And Max was clawing at his arm, yelling her head off as well. “Wolves know how to do this instinctively, you know.”

“I’m not a wolf,” she bit out.

“No, you’re a traitor.” One Vice would never forgive for hurting Liam. This baby wasn’t Liam’s, would never be in line to be king. It might never even be accepted into a pack, forced to live out its days as a lone Were.

But he wouldn’t think about that now. Not when Max was delivering the goddamned baby as he watched. She’d gotten onto the floor, with towels under her and one over her legs. He guessed she was pretty much naked underneath and she lifted herself on her elbows and pushed. Vice had no choice but to throw the covers off her and see what was going on down there. And it wasn’t pretty.

“Holy hell—this could scar me for life,” he muttered. “I want to look away, but I can’t. This is just not right.”

“Bite me,” she spat.

“Not a goddamned chance.”

She screamed and then she pushed and Vice had no idea if that was the right thing or the wrong thing. He yelled for Gwen, for anyone, but no one came to help.

“I really need a smoke.” Desperately. He grabbed for a blanket and looked back again and saw that there was a baby coming out. Right now. No waiting.

“I’ll pay you to go back in until Gwen comes,” he told the head and Max glared at him. And obviously, the kid was ignoring his bribe and already refusing to obey and Vice sighed and then swore and resigned himself to this task.

Buck up, Marine.

He spread a blanket under her legs, called for Gwen again and was met with deafening silence.

“Okay, look, I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I’m just going to catch it when it comes out,” he told her and she screamed and bore down, grabbing his hand and possibly breaking bones as he put his other hand out to catch whatever came out.

But it wasn’t happening like that.

“Doesn’t this just kind of pop out?” he asked.

“No, that is not how this works,” Max said, near tears but obviously refusing to cry. He had to give her some credit—just a little—for what she was going through. “You have to guide him out or he won’t make it.”

Vice nodded, settled himself and when she pushed again, the kid’s shoulders were out and Vice was able to gently pull and help finish the birth.

“You have to clear his mouth,” Max said, showed him something she called an aspirator and told him how it worked. He did so and after a few seconds the kid yelled his head off. As he did so, Max cut the cord herself—she’d been prepared for this.

“This kid needs a bath,” Vice declared as he held it up to the light for further examination. The kid stopped yelling and just . . . watched him.

“Take him,” she said harshly. “I don’t want to see him. Take the goddamned thing out of here.”

It was similar to what his mother had told the servants when he was six, the first time his abilities had really come into play. Without another word, he cobbled the baby into the blanket, tucked it against him and walked out of the room.

•   •   •

It was hours of running in the woo
ds but finally, Gwen seemed to have gotten Rifter to calm down to the point where he didn’t look like he wanted to kill everything in his path. Which was good for him, Vice supposed, as he remained on the couch, holding the sleeping baby.

He’d fed it. Changed it. Rocked it. And now he felt like a goddamned woman. Even checked a few times to make sure his dick was there.

“Something you want to tell us?” Rifter asked as Gwen said, “Max!”

“She’s downstairs, locked back up. I took the baby and left,” he explained but Gwen was already going to check on Max, calling, “I’ll be right back up to look at the baby.”

Because if Max died before Liam got to perform the ritual, it would mar his kingship. Many of the packs were waiting to give him their final approval to see how he dealt with this.

“Is it . . . healthy?” Rifter asked.

“Seems it to me.” Vice looked down at the sleeping bundle. “This place is getting crowded.”

“So you delivered this baby?” Rifter asked.

“Yeah, yeah, make your jokes,” Vice growled, but realized Rifter wasn’t making fun of him. Instead, the king looked at him with respect in his eyes. He swallowed hard and kept his eyes on the kid because he didn’t know what to say. He’d been the last person he’d thought who’d care for this kid, but hell, someone had to. For now.

Gwen came back in with another bottle of formula, said, “I gave her something to make her sleep. She’d cleaned herself up and she’s not talking.”

“She’s preparing to die,” Vice said. “That’s part of the ritual for the Weres. Twenty-four hours before it happens, you stop talking.”

“I’m going to have to check him out, okay?” Gwen asked.

“I think that’s best,” he told her, took the sleeping kid off his chest and gingerly handed him to her. But the second it lost contact with Vice, it howled. Turned purple and, dude, that was so not a good color on a pup. She handed it back to Vice and it stopped immediately.

“Oh, come on. You’re kidding me, right? I’m not the type for babies. I’m too X-rated.”

No one could deny that, but it was apparent none of them would sleep at all if that baby got moved from Vice’s arms.

He sighed in defeat for the second time that night and crawled into his bed, the kid like Velcro against him.

“You should probably name it,” she said. “It is a boy, right?”

“Definite boy parts,” Vice agreed. Hell, the kid was cute for sure. And the truth was, Liam wouldn’t name it, and they couldn’t let Max. It would actually be too cruel for her, and Vice had done the right thing by taking the baby away.

Max hadn’t wanted to see or hear him.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. Because it had to be the right name.

“I’ll put the crib in your room,” Rifter offered.

“Seriously? You’re serious,” he said as Rifter went down to the basement. Gwen added, “I’ll bring up some bottles. I’ll help with the night feedings. . . .”

“Night feedings?” Vice grumbled. “I’m owed big-time for this one.”

L
iam hadn’t been able
to bring himself to
visit the baby. Cyd told him that Vice—Vice—had delivered him and was currently caring for the kid who screamed if anyone else touched him.

Liam had to fight his smile at that, because, although Vice wouldn’t ever see it himself, Liam could understand why that was. In the short time he’d been under the wolf’s tutelage, Vice had become a father to him. And an X-rated older brother, all at the same time. The best of all possible worlds.

And now, he just wanted to make his mentor proud of him. Get his pack behind him.

He’d seen Max only once since she’d been here, and that conversation burned in his mind.

“I’d kill myself, but that would be another dishonor to you,” Max told him. “I want to give you the honor back.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” he told her. Wondered how he’d once loved her, considered her a mate.

Humans are weak. Foolish.
Vice had been teaching him that, the same way his father had been trying to drill that into his skull for years. But he’d learned firsthand, and in the most painful way possible. He hated Max for her betrayal for the past month, had burned with the desire for revenge in his gut.

And then, just as suddenly as the hatred had come, it was gone, replaced by a sense of duty and responsibility for the bigger picture. The pack. His pack.

For the kid’s honor, he had to do what pack law demanded. And that pup deserved a shot, no matter what his parents had done. If Liam had learned anything from living with the Dires, it had been that fact.

If he didn’t kill her, he would never be able to get the pack under control and that was dangerous to all their existence.

He knew from Gwen that Max had been silent for twenty-four hours since the birth, as was expected. She was following pack law out of respect for the wolves. For him or Teague, he didn’t know, but suspected it was for the baby most of all.

Still, she was allowed to talk when Liam gave her the opportunity. A chance for her to share her dying request. And as she knelt before him, she couldn’t even look him in the eye, not until he told her, “Speak, Max, and tell me what’s on your mind.”

“You can’t let that child pay for my mistakes,” she blurted out, her voice unwavering but the emotion showed in the tear that ran down her cheek. “You have to show mercy. That’s the kind of king you are, Liam. The kind of wolf you always were.”

He wanted to tell her that she never really knew him, but that wasn’t true at all. “I promise you that.”

“Thank you.” She stood, moved forward toward him. She was dressed in a simple white robe, as tradition called for. Cyd had made the arrangements with Gwen, and now Max followed him out through the tunnels and into the field. She remained silent. Stoic. That was the Max he’d once known.

Cyd, Cain and other Weres were standing guard against outlaw attacks. This matter was always done in private, and Liam held the sword, the handle smooth and the metal heavy in his palm.

She turned to face him, chin up.

“I’m not doing this out of anger, Max,” he told her. “It’s for the pack. I’ve forgiven you. Your child will have a chance.”

“Thank you.”

The night was silent. Somber. He did his duty quickly, not allowing her to suffer. As per tradition, he turned and walked away once Max crumbled to the ground. Cyd and Cain would take care of her burial. He smelled the blood and went into his room and into the shower and stayed there for as long as he could stand the hot water on his skin. Stayed until the smell was gone and his body stopped wracking with sobs and he could stand tall and say he’d done what a king was supposed to do.

He toweled off, put on sweats and a T-shirt and walked out to find Rifter waiting for him with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, already poured. Rifter handed one to him wordlessly, clinked his glass to Liam’s and the men drank. Liam appreciated the hot burn down his gullet and Rifter refilled the glass for him several times in a short span.

Rifter didn’t expect him to speak at all, he realized. He was simply offering support from one king to another. And when Liam had enough to drink, only realizing that when the room spun, Rifter got him into bed and left Cyd and Cain to watch over him. Liam kicked them out of the room after half an hour, too restless to have anyone staring at him. He opened the window for some light and the moon’s touch and found Violet sitting about twenty feet away from the house she couldn’t see, facing the woods he often ran in.

He was still angry at himself for egging her on the other night, but for some unfathomable reason, he leaped out the window and stalked her.

Whether she knew he was coming or not, she never turned. He gave her credit for that, more so when she said, “Rough night?”

Instead of growling or pretending it didn’t happen, he sat next to her. “I’m never mating again,” he told her, because if that was somehow her intention with this whole beta thing . . .

“I’ve never planned on it,” Violet agreed. “Seems like a really good way to get screwed up.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to rub salt in the wound.” She actually looked abashed.

“It’s all right.”

“My mouth tends to get me in trouble.”

“I know a few wolves like that.” He paused. “I’m supposed to meet with the hunters tomorrow. Are they going to tell me anything about you that you’d rather tell me yourself?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Why did you leave the hunters?”

She stared straight ahead. “They kicked me out.”

“Why?”

“They were scared of me. Said I was uncontrolled during a fight.”

“You’re young.” He realized it just then.

“I’m nineteen, okay?”

Fuck, this was not okay. “Then you’re still in moon craze.”

“I fight it. I didn’t lose control when you fought me,” she pointed out.

“Did your pack kick you out?”

“Yes. The hunters took me in. They think I’m twenty-three.”

She looked it, but for Weres, there was a big difference between nineteen and twenty-one, which was exactly why she lied to the hunters about being well past moon craze. “Betas need to—”

“Keep the peace? Don’t give me that bullshit. That’s what omegas are for. Betas are to back you up. To keep a cool head if you’re fighting. To make sure your alphas, like Cyd, are where they need to be.”

She was right.

“I admire you for what you did, both with Max and the outlaws,” she continued. “You’re a true king.”

There was no sarcasm in her tone, only reverence. And he did need a beta. He needed as many people on his side as possible and his gut told him that Violet was a good choice. Because, even before she’d told him what happened, he’d already known, thanks to his meeting with the head of the hunters. “How about a trial run as my beta?” he asked.

When she looked at him, her eyes glowed. “No mating—that’s my rule. You can never force me or say it’s for the good of the pack.”

“I can accept that.”

“What can I do to help you?”

“Let me sleep. Stand guard. Wake me if I have a nightmare.” He didn’t wait for an answer, just lay back under the moon and drifted off. He wasn’t sure how long he slept, but when he woke, Violet was standing near him, gun drawn and canines elongated, guarding him with her life.