Embracing the Wolf - Book #2 (Anna Avery) (21 page)

“I still don’t know why we’re doing this,” the man said with irritation. “Since when do we work for werewolves?”

“A payday is a payday,” the woman said. “I don’t discriminate.” She punctuated the sentence with a devilish smirk.

“She almost caught you the night of the ceremony,” the man said. “Plus, she’s a white wolf. Even I know the legends, and they don’t bode well for those who wish her harm.”

The woman scoffed. “You and your superstitions. That little bitch didn’t come close to catching me, and I won’t bat an eyelash at her being a white wolf when her own kind wants her dead. If they don’t respect the legends, then why should I?”

I could feel my lips peel open and my jaw drop. I remember how my pack reacted the first time I transformed into my wolf, and it was white. No one ever came out and said why they were so surprised, but whispers lingered around the mountain about it meaning something great. I had searched the book of our history for the answer, but nothing was written about white wolves. Hearing it was a legend, and that vampires had even heard of it, jarred me to my bones. From the moment my body accepted the werewolf virus, and I’d become one of the monsters that only stories are made of, I’d been different.

“Besides,” the woman said. “I’ve been hungry for a good fight.”

The man snorted as though he had heard the woman’s zeal for violence before. He walked over to the bed and sat, resting his arms on his bent up knees. The woman walked over to him straddled his lap, causing the man to sit back. He rested his hands on the mattress behind him and looked up at her. The admiration in his eyes was unmistakable. A sense of unease filled me at witnessing such a private moment. It quickly vanished as I remembered that these two weren’t two innocent lovers, they were plotting my death.

“Everything will be okay, Taren,” the woman said softer. “We’ll rip that bitch’s head from her shoulders and collect the six figure paycheck. After that, we’ll take our vacation to Europe, devour the townspeople, and fuck while bathed in their blood.”

A smile replaced the worried scowl on Taren’s face. His fingers curled around the woman’s behind as he pulled her tighter against his pelvis. She let out a small moan of pleasure, and a flash of fangs peeked out from under Taren’s lips.

Unadulterated fury singed me from the inside out. These two were every bit of the monster as their lore depicted them as. To talk so casually about murder caused my stomach to coil with nausea. My mind swam in dark waters as I contemplated all the ways I could kill them first. A small voice in the back of my mind whispered, How are you any better than them? I shooshed the voice—I was ten times better than these two. I would kill to protect my pack, and myself, and with their deaths countless innocent humans would be saved, too. These vampires weren’t innocent and killed for money, not necessity.

When I looked back at the couple, they were now laying back on the bed. The woman’s shirt was missing, and Taren was kissing a path down her stomach. Her mouth opened with a moan, twin fangs poking out.

I closed my eyes, wanting to be anywhere but in this hotel room. I did not want to witness these two having sex. Moans and hungry snarls filled my ears, and I clamped my eyes tighter shut, willing myself out of the vision. Only, it didn’t work. I was still standing in the hotel room, still subjected to their cries of pleasure. I whirled around and fumbled with the door handle, but it wouldn’t turn. I flipped the locks, thinking they must be switched, but no matter how many times I flipped them, the door still would not open.

I kept my back to the couple, bile rising to my throat when the bed started creaking. None of my visions had ever lasted this long. I never felt trapped in the past, or worried about escaping it. I was now. My heart raced in my chest while my mind grappled with what to do. I didn’t know how my visions worked, but surely this part wasn’t important.

I moved to the corner by the door and rested my forehead against the wall like a child being punished. That’s what it felt like—punishment. I kept my eyes closed and hummed a song to drown out the endless moaning, squeaking, and flesh against flesh sounds. I kept thinking that at any minute I would be back on the mountain and all of this would be over, but after what seemed like hours, my feet were still firmly planted on the hotel’s aging carpet.

The sounds stopped finally, and I stopped humming, listening for something other than the sounds of sex. A shuffle of clothes and footsteps caused me to turn around. Taren sat on the edge of the bed again in only a pair of jeans. His bare chest revealed a large tattoo on his back. I walked away from the door so that I could study the design. It seemed it was just a tribal design with no rhyme or reason. My lip curled up at the welts from fingernails, which lined parts of his back. The floral comforter and sheets were in disarray, and twin puncture wounds dotted the side of Taren’s shoulder. I thought about how these creatures had to drink blood to survive and the bile in my throat rose again. Then again, I ate raw, bloody meat while in wolf form. Still, it seemed different in my mind, even if just slightly.

A cell phone on the bedside table rang out through the room. Taren lifted the phone and pressed it to his ear.

“Yeah? She’s in the shower … She’s not going to like that … Tell Veronica yourself … Tough shit.” He pressed the end button on the phone and set it back on the table. Lowering himself, he lay on the bed and raked his fingers through his unruly hair as his eyes stared up at the ceiling.

“White wolf, white wolf,” Taren whispered, his eyes still on the ceiling. “Better than the rest of tooth and claw. Rise above, take control, it is your destiny to rule them all.” When he finished the rhyme, his head lolled to the side, and his eyes found mine. I gasped, going still except for the rapid beating of my heart.

The room began closing in on itself, white mist filtering in to cloud the space. My blonde hair flew around my face as my body began to move backward. It felt as though I was being sucked through a tunnel. The vacuum drew me back, and everything vanished. I squeezed my eyes shut and landed with a hard thump on my knees. Opening my eyes, I stared at the rough mountain ground with blurry eyes. I was panting, trying to catch my breath and slow the slamming of my heart.  I fell back on my heels and threw my head back, closing my eyes again. I was nauseous and the spinning landscape wasn’t helping. Tiny specks of cold dotted my cheeks and forehead. Wind whipped around me, blanketing me in its icy chill.

“Looks like I made it just in time for the snow,” I mumbled to myself.

“Anna?”

My eyes snapped open, and I swiveled my head toward the owner of the voice. What was he doing here? Anthony stood just to my left, eight feet or so away. He wore faded blue jeans and a long sleeved green henley. His blond hair was brushed away from his light green eyes.

“What are you doing here?” I said, putting a voice to my thoughts.

Anthony made no move toward me. Instead, he held up his hands in surrender and watched me with clear interest.

“What are you holding?” He nodded toward my hands.

I looked down to find them still curled into fists. Panicked, I stretched out my fingers and rubbed my palms against each other to rid myself of the vampire ash. Standing, I backed away from the small pile as if it was a huge pile of wolfsbane. I noticed the pile was smaller than before, having disintegrated while I had my vision. The small flecks of pieces I brushed off my hands swirled with the snowflakes, disappearing from view as the daylight ate them up.

“I heard you had visions,” Anthony said, coming closer, “but to see it while it’s happening …”

My eyes cut to his and anger, disgust, and confusion swirled within me like the snowstorm surrounding me.

“What do you want, and why are you here? Did you follow me?” I didn’t hide the annoyance in my voice. I was still keyed up from the vision and the rhyme I’d heard Taren recite. Did it mean something, or did he just make it up? I wasn’t even sure if he was dead or not. Sure it’d been his blood I connected with, but was he just injured last night or killed? If he was alive, maybe I could track him down and ask him. I thought about the hotel room I’d been in. They had to be staying in town, and there were only a couple hotels. It wouldn’t be difficult to find them, though it would be dangerous. They were here to kill me, after all. My death meant a hefty paycheck, and if I showed up at their door, it’d be like serving myself up on a silver platter.

“I spoke to my father,” Anthony said. “He said you were searching for answers. I figured this was the best place to do that.”

I eyed him cautiously. “So why are
you
here?” I couldn’t help but think of his confession last night, though I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to think that I could be connected to Anthony, other than being engaged to his brother. Being linked to him, because of my Chante bond with Adam only tainted it. The mark on my palm was proof that I was supposed to be with Adam. It wasn’t right that Anthony felt something because of it, because of his twin connection with his brother. It was like he was an intruder, stealing something special from me.

“I wanted to talk to you about last night,” Anthony said in a soft voice. He looked away as thought nervous or shy. I wasn’t falling for it. I knew better.

“What about it?” Not only was I annoyed that Anthony was here; I was annoyed that he wanted to have a conversation I didn’t. I wanted to concentrate on the information I’d learned from the vision, not have a heart to heart with my fiancé’s brother.

“You don’t have to be a bitch,” Anthony snapped, bringing his eyes back to mine. “Do you think I want this … that I want to have feelings for yet another one of my brother’s women?” He ran both hands through his hair and spun on his heel, turning his back toward me. I know I shouldn’t, but a pang of guilt settled deep in my belly. When I learned the story of how Eve was promised to Adam, even though Anthony loved her, I felt sorry for him. It couldn’t be easy loving a woman who was mated to your brother. Even though Eve and Anthony still hooked up from time to time, Eve was never fully Anthony’s. My breath caught in my throat as a thought occurred to me. Was Anthony saying he had those types of feelings for me?

“What do you mean when you say
feelings
?” God, I could not deal with this atop everything else. I turned my left hand over and scowled at the brand marking my skin. My life had become increasingly difficult since the damn thing appeared on my palm. Adam’s life was now linked to mine, people wanted to kill me because of it, and now my mate’s brother was admitting that he
felt
something for me. I stared up at the gloomy sky and raised my middle finger to whoever was up there toying with my life. I did not find it as funny as they probably did.

“I don’t know,” Anthony admitted, turning to face me. “All I know is there’s something about you, Anna. I felt it that day Eve attacked you and again when we kidnapped you. Every time she smacked you, an icy fury consumed me as though I was angry that she was hurting you. I don’t know what it means, but it’s why I’m here.”

I rubbed my forehead from the sudden pain ricocheting through my skull. I snorted to myself. Adam assumed Anthony was here for me, but we both thought it was to kill me as payback for Adam killing Eve. His confession left me blindsided. If there was ever a time I was truly surprised, this would be it.

“I love Adam,” I told him. I held up my left hand to show my ring and said, “I’m marrying him. I’m sure whatever it is you feel—it’s some sort of weird twin bond you have with Adam. It’s his feelings you’re feeling. It’s not real.”

“Perhaps,” Anthony said with a serious expression. “I tried staying away—really I did—but it felt like a piece was missing. I came here to see if it was you causing it.”

I blew out a heavy breath though my nose. “And?”

Anthony hesitated to answer, which meant I wouldn’t like what he had to say. I studied his face, so much like Adam’s it hurt to look at him. They were the same height, had the same build, even the same lips. Anthony’s eyes were a light green where Adam’s were blue, and Anthony’s hair was a tad longer since Adam cut his a couple weeks ago. It pained me to be repulsed by this man, but also find him attractive. It just wouldn’t make sense to find Adam handsome and not Anthony. Their looks were where their similarities ended though; Adam was honorable where Anthony was a rebel.

“I don’t feel it anymore,” Anthony finally said. “The moment I saw you, it went away.”

I wiped a snowflake that had landed on my eyelashes and hugged my arms to my chest. Cold had nothing to do with the motion. I felt exposed as his eyes burned into mine, willing me to admit I felt something, too. It pained me, seriously pained me, to not be able to give him what he wanted. I knew what kind of person Anthony was, but he was also flesh and blood, capable of real emotions, and he had already fallen in love with a woman he couldn’t have. I did not want to be number two. Though I didn’t understand Anthony’s past actions, I couldn’t help myself for feeling sorry for him. I wanted to hate him, to scream at him and even hurt him so he would give up this silly idea of feeling something for me, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t make my lips utter harsh words just to sway him from thinking what he thought.

My parents always told me that words have more power than any weapon. With a lash of your tongue, you could bring someone to his or her knees, and they were right. How many harsh words had I heard in my lifetime that still stuck with me? How many times had I dissected what someone said and watched as my insecurities grew from those words? Life is all about rising above the ugliness that plagues us all. I didn’t want to be that ugliness that Anthony might look back on like I did with those who were mean to me. I didn’t owe him anything, but I owed it to myself to not become a person who allowed insecurities and negativity to rule my tongue.  Being negative is easy; it’s being positive that’s difficult. Though I was angry, anxious, and worried, I swallowed those feelings and thought before I spoke.