Hierarchy (7 page)

“Where are we?”

“The clinic.”

Bronwyn roused enough to look around. “What kind of clinic?”

Luke grimaced wryly when she looked at him. “The closest. Sorry, I’m not dressed for anything else. But Clancy knows what he’s doing. He can patch you up if you need it, set bones if anything’s broken.”

Bronwyn was still too bemused to object, but she felt totally thrown to discover he’d taken her to an animal clinic.

She was slightly reassured by the man that met them at the front and escorted them into an examination room where Luke finally set her down on an examination table that looked as sterile as anything in a hospital. When he stepped away, she saw what he meant about not being ‘dressed’ for anything else. He wasn’t dressed at all!

And, my god, what a beautiful
everything
he had! He bore the marks of his fight—deep, ugly scratches, welts and bruises, but even so she’d never seen a more perfect human body. He was so wonderfully sculpted his nakedness didn’t seem the least obscene although she was vaguely aware that she should’ve thought so.

His dark eyes were gleaming when she finally managed to drag her gaze from his beautiful ‘everything’ and look at his face.

That was beautiful, too. And pure Native American if she wasn’t mistaken. The purest she’d ever seen anyway.

Except, if what he’d said was true—he was pure wolf. And if she could believe her eyes, he could turn into a monster and then back into this wondrous form effortlessly.

“What happened?” the doctor asked briskly, capturing her attention.

Luke looked a little disconcerted. He shrugged. “She got caught up in the middle of a battle,” he said uncomfortably.

“So I see,” Clancy retorted wryly. “It would be easier to examine her without the clothes.”

Bronwyn stared at him and then glanced at Luke. Luke frowned irritably, but finally shrugged and left.

“You aren’t a people doctor, are you?” Bronwyn said the moment Luke closed the door behind him.

“Not ordinarily, no,” Clancy agreed cheerfully. “You want me to leave, too?”

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“I don’t really think I’ve got anything but bruises,” Bronwyn responded instead of answering his question.

“Well, let me have a look anyway, huh? You’ve had a shock or two, I imagine.

Sometimes a shot of adrenaline can make it hard to feel pain.”

Nanna had said the same thing. Feeling her resistance melt, Bronwyn nodded and sat up with an effort. The doctor helped her off the table and turned around while she undressed. When she’d discarded her clothes, he handed her a sheet and helped her get on the table again. Despite the fact that he was a veterinarian, he seemed completely competent—and gentle as he carefully examined her bones for breaks. “Nothing broken that I can find. Any pain anywhere in particular?”

Everywhere. She felt so battered she couldn’t localize any kind of pain as being worse than anything else except for the burning lacerations she’d gotten from skidding across pavement. “Just the scrapes on my hands and knees from hitting the sidewalk.”

“Ouch! Well, I’ll clean them up, make sure there’s nothing there to get infected and then put some ointment on them to take care of the sting. Any goose eggs?” he added, examining her scalp.

“I think I bumped my head.”

“Yep. Found one. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two.”

“Day of the week?”

“Sunday.”

He nodded. “I think Luke should keep an eye on you, but I don’t see anything to worry about.”

Bronwyn chewed her lip, wondering if she could trust him. Luke had brought her to him after all. “You’re … friends with Luke?”

He glanced at her sharply. “He’s alpha. I’m one of his pack brothers—and, yes, I consider him a friend.” He frowned. “That doesn’t mean I’m not here for you. You wanna talk?”

Bronwyn shivered. “I don’t really know what was happening, but everyone was grabbing me—they almost seemed to be fighting
over
me—except I can’t imagine why they would. And then Luke ….” She swallowed with an effort. “He was … he looked different and he grabbed me and brought me here.”

Clancy lifted his brows. “Well, I have to suppose that scared you, but I know Luke. If he grabbed you, he had a damned good reason. You’re lucky he was there.”

Bronwyn sent in an indignant look. “I was just walking along the sidewalk, minding my own business! Next thing I know, it was like they’d decided to play football with me … Wait a minute! Did you say you were his pack brother?”

“Ah! You got the short, sweet initiation, huh? Didn’t think there was any such thing as monsters before tonight?”

Bronwyn reddened. “He isn’t … crazy?”

Clancy burst out laughing. “Not unless we all are,” he said cheerfully. “You can sit up now and I’ll take care of those nasty abrasions.”

Gathering the sheet, Bronwyn sat up and turned, allowing her legs to dangle from the table. There was a tap on the door as Clancy finished cleaning her wounds. He flicked a questioning glance at her. “You ok with me letting him in? Or should I bar the door?”

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Bronwyn studied him a moment and finally nodded.

“She says you can come in if you behave yourself. We’re just finishing up.”

Luke was wearing a pair of jeans when he entered the room, but his beautifully sculpted chest was still bare. To her surprise, the ugly claw marks she’d seen on him only a few minutes before were nothing more than angry red marks now. He looked a question at the doctor.

“I think she’ll be fine. You should keep an eye on her for a little while—she’s got a nasty bump on the head—but I don’t think we’ve anything to worry about. Mind you, if she begins to show any sort of symptoms, I’ll expect you to get her to the nearest hospital but I think she’d already be displaying symptoms if there was any bleeding.”

Luke relaxed. Looking at her, he grinned abruptly and held out his hand. “I’m Luke Gray Wolf.”

Shrugging inwardly, Bronwyn offered him her hand. “Bronwyn Williams.”

The smile froze on his face as he took her hand and looked down at it. It took Bronwyn a moment to realize he wasn’t looking at her hand at all. He was staring at the mark on her inner wrist. His head jerked upward abruptly. For several moments, he merely stared at her. “By the gods! You’ve got the mark!”

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Bronwyn tugged at her hand. Luke’s hand tightened on hers almost reflexively before he released it. The most bizarre sense of déjà`vu washed over her. Almost as if it had only been yesterday instead of nearly a decade ago, she heard her grandmother’s prophesy.

One day a man will come who will offer to buy the boarding house. When he
does, you must sell it and move to the big city. I know you won’t want to, but this isn’t
your destiny. You’ll meet it there. He’ll know you by this mark you were born with. He
will be looking for you, too.

He’s very special. He will have gifts unlike anything you’ve ever imagined, be
unlike the ordinary folk who have no gifts at all. You aren’t to settle for just any man,
however suitable you might think he is. You must wait for your destiny to unfold. You’re
meant for something very special. Wait for your destiny, the man whose children you
will bear.

You mustn’t be afraid when you meet him. Regardless of what he is or how
frightening he might seem because he’s ‘different’, he’ll never harm you, never allow
anyone to harm you.

Special in what way, she’d asked? And why would I be afraid of him? Will he be … marred in some way?

Nanna had chuckled.
You will think he is the most handsome man you’ve ever
seen.

Bronwyn swallowed with an effort, looking away. She’d never known her grandmother to be wrong when she saw the future, and yet she felt doubt she’d never expected to feel.

Because she’d thought, somewhere in the back of her mind, that Constantine was that special someone she was destined for.

Or maybe she’d just hoped he was?

And if what she’d heard at the cemetery was true, he wasn’t actually a man at all—no more than this man was.

“You know about the mark.”

Bronwyn chewed her lip, refusing to look at him. “Of course I do,” she said testily, “I was born with it.”

“That isn’t what I meant. There’s a prophesy about this mark.”

That got her attention. “There is?”

Luke studied her for a long moment, his gaze piercing. “So you didn’t know?”

Bronwyn frowned. “I only know what Nanna said about it.”

“What did Nanna say about it?”

Bronwyn felt her face heat. She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “She said a stranger would come and offer to buy the boarding house and I was to sell it and move to the city. It was where my destiny lay.” It was true even if that wasn’t all of it. She wasn’t about to inform him that she was supposed to be the mother of his children,
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though! Anyway, how could she tell if he was the one? It seemed to her that all sorts of people were interested in the mark.

Stephen had stared at it when she’d gone to the club and then Constantine had wanted to see it. The man, Bill Duncan, had even suggested that he’d been looking for someone with the mark, that he’d been to search for his boss—whoever this Lord Westmoreland was.

Luke studied her hard for several moments and finally glanced at the doctor before he returned his attention to her. “I’ll wait outside while you get dressed.”

Clancy finished bandaging her scrapes and went out behind him.

For several moments, Bronwyn merely stared at the door, considering her options.

Finally, realizing she had no idea of where she was or how to get back to her apartment or even if it was safe to go back, she slipped off the table and began to dress. She didn’t entirely trust Luke Gray Wolf or his motives, but he’d at least seemed to be concerned about her and there was no getting around the fact that he’d rescued her at great risk to himself. She had to consider that a mark in his favor.

* * * *

Luke’s mind was reeling. It didn’t help that he’d been in an almost constant state of arousal from the moment he’d first caught Bronwyn’s scent, that hunger slithered like poison through him, burning, dividing his mind. Questions further divided it. He knew why Tommy had gone after her. Her scent was enough to drive any red-blooded lycan half crazy. What he wanted to know was why there’d been a Vamp on her tail, why Constantine wanted her.

And he wanted to know who the fuck the headless corpse on the sidewalk was and why he’d been tailing her.

Most prominent, however, was the jolt it had given him when he’d looked down at her arm and seen the mark. Even the ramifications of stumbling upon the woman promised so long ago, only to discover that the Vamps were after her, were overshadowed by the magical talisman that protected her, though.

My magic trumps your powers, Lycan, so don’t be thinking you can just bend her
to your will and take what you want. She’s protected. I’ve seen to that. You must win
her heart by giving her yours if you want the gift she has to offer.

The image of the old woman that had filled his mind when he’d taken Bronwyn’s hand. The words she’d spoken in his mind as if she was speaking directly to him, had stunned him to say the least.

She was the source of the magic he’d tasted, he didn’t doubt, but that very fact aroused his suspicions. Clearly the witch had known all about the prophesy and that meant, with her powers, she could have set out to use it to her advantage in some way.

Bronwyn didn’t appear to know the legends, but that also didn’t rule out the possibility that she was a willing participant.

The witch had to have known that the magic she planted would make Bronwyn nearly irresistible to Lycans. As drawn as they were to the ‘taste’ of psychics, that was multiplied many times over by magic.

So—the question was, was Bronwyn the woman of prophesy? Or was she the dupe of some evil old witch?

He shook his head. Did it matter? He wanted her so badly he could taste it. Sure it would be grand if she was the promised one and he found than the gift of power she
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gave to his pups would mean that one among them would be King, but did he really give a shit about the gods damned prophesy?

He found that the possibility of it tantalized him, but he hadn’t known anything about it when he’d decided she was the woman he wanted.

Or had he? Was that what had drawn him to start with and he just hadn’t been conscious of it? Was that the way the prophesy worked?

And what the fuck were the damned Vamps after her for?

Power play, he decided. Somehow the Vamps had discovered their prophesy and decided to grab her and make certain it couldn’t come to pass. That had to be it. He couldn’t think of any other reason the vampire lord himself, Constantine, would want her.

Actually, he supposed he could. She was a beauty! He was pretty sure he would’ve been lusting after her if she hadn’t had magic or paranormal abilities. There was just something about her ….

He frowned. She didn’t actually seem to be Constantine’s ‘type’, though. Not that he’d had a lot of opportunity, or interest, in hanging around the vamps enough to really know the bastard, but he’d certainly seen him a time or two and he usually had at least two women hanging on him worshipfully. And they were usually as blond as he was, tall, buxom women—no surprise since that was considered the epitome of beauty in Constantine’s salad days a few centuries ago.

Not that Bronwyn wasn’t shapely enough in all the right places to please any man with any sense, but she sure as hell wasn’t a blond, a bimbo, or nearly as tall and buxom as the women that Constantine seemed to prefer to keep on his leash.

Well, he’d have to do some investigating to get to the bottom of it, he decided. In the meanwhile, he was going to have his hands full trying to keep her safe—and keep his hands off of her.

That might be the easiest part, he thought wryly. Between the protection spell the gods damned witch had put on her and her discovery that he wasn’t actually human, he was afraid he was going to have a hell of a time getting her into his bed
or
plowing those lovely rows of hers. He meant to give it a hell of a try, though!

He wasn’t going to be able to
resist
giving it a try. He just hoped the fucking witch hadn’t planted a spell on her that was going to wither his cock the minute he tried it!