Rutledge Werewolves 1: Scent of Passion (14 page)

Running wild through parklands, wallowing in scents of nature and of mankind. Roland loved his monthly dreams, but dreaded them too. He had decided that the guilt of all the wolves his father had killed had finally come down on him to haunt him. Through painful searching, he had managed to track down the start of his father’s personal brand of madness against wolves, to here, Glacier National Park.

This place was where the madness had all started. Twenty-five years ago, as a three year old, Roland only had the vaguest memories of being in this area. Most of his memories from this era of his life were of his mother, and her softness.

As he thought and thought, he remembered a huge fight between his parents. Of his father raging against the wolves, in what would be the first of many tirades from his father, but the only one his mother witnessed.

Roland vaguely remembered his mother trying to placate his father. And the one and only time his father lashed out and hit his mother. He had been in a towering rage, his face flushed with anger, his eyes wild. His mother had stood back up, blood running down her face. She had been talking in that soft voice of hers, explaining he needed to “get used to it”, but his father had walked out, slamming the door. Roland had crept up to his mother, watching her pack. She had cried, telling him she had something to do, but she would be back for him.

That had been the last time he had seen his mother. That night, his father had culled his first pack of wolves. Roland had no idea whether his father had sought out his mother, or whether she had simply never returned for her son, tainted with the blood of his father.

In the end, it had made little difference.

No records could be found of Janine Matthews, nor of Janine Simmonds, her maiden name.

Roland shook the old memories from him. He held a faint hope that if he could come back here—to the place where the nightmares started and the place he seemed to always roam to in his dreams—maybe he could exorcise them and move on with his life.

But he felt sick at the sight of the trap. He simply couldn’t go through with it. Capturing a wolf wouldn’t ease his guilt, nor ease the gnawing worry that he was loosing his mind like his father had before him.

As Roland hovered between carrying out his crazy scheme and halting before he truly hurt something, he felt a new sense of softness caress inside of him.

Helene.

Four years ago—during some of his most trying times—he had met the woman of his dreams, met Helene. She had been his one and only true love affair. She reminded him in so many ways of his mother. Her sweetness, her goodness, her caring. After six months of wallowing in her beauty, both within and without, he had tried to explain to her why he must leave.

He had been so fearful of turning on her, of contaminating her with his tainted blood, with the bitterness and awful burden and wounds he carried around with him. Only with her had he felt hope, yet it would kill him to hurt or harm her in any way. She had professed to understand. During their time together he had told her more than he had any other human being. She understood. She didn’t like his decision, nor agree with him, but as gentle and sweet as she was, she understood.

With tears in her eyes, she had watched him go. He had given her his pager number, so she could always contact him. The first time she had ever used it had been to give him the most important news he had ever received.

They had a son. She had called him Edward. The Guardian of Prosperity, the Guardian of the
Future
, Helene insisted. His future.
Their
future.

Roland had sworn there and then, both to himself and to Helene, he would heal himself, no matter what it required, and come make his home with her and their son. He called her weekly, just to talk to her and their child as he grew from a baby into a toddler.

He never quite admitted how desperately he missed her, though deep in his half-dead heart he felt she knew. He sent her all the money he could afford to give. He visited as often as he dared.

In his darkest, deepest part of his heart, he knew he loved them both. But he felt petrified it wouldn’t be enough. What if he wasn’t whole or healthy enough to make a go of his small family? The thought he might go mad like his father before him and hurt his Helene or son…the thought alone made him feel ill with worry.

As he felt Helene’s goodness and light surround him, enfold him, Roland came back to the forest as if waking from another nightmare.

What the hell was he doing?

Standing up, and taking a small tree branch from the ground, he held it, about to set off the trap with the stick and remove it, when he saw a pale woman watching him from a couple of hundred feet away, through the woods.

She appeared washed out in the moonlight, short golden hair mussed, as if she had been roused from sleep. Not knowing if she had seen the trap or not, he called out to her, wanting to warn her not to come too near.

“Hey!”

Startled, she turned and began to flee.

“Hey!” he called out a second time, cursing under his breath.

Roland quickly stabbed the branch into the trap, setting it off so no animals would be caught in it. Satisfied when he heard the sickening
snap
, he raced after the woman. He didn’t know who she was or what she wanted, but he didn’t want her reporting him when nothing had happened. His deep-seated fear of the police had his gut clenching in worry.

He had never really gotten over his fear of police. Spending time in lock-up, trying to explain his crazy actions and insane reasonings, all the while petrified of the cops certainly came high on his list of things
not
to have happen.

Chapter Eighteen

Sophie had woken in the middle of the night, disorientated for a moment. She felt the hard press of a masculine body next to hers; one leg wrapped over her hips, and felt a second of panic.

The previous day washed over her as she remembered.

Artemais.

After dinner, they had all played poker for an hour. Sophie had won the entire pot, having never mentioned that her grandmother, rather than playing the mandatory old-lady bingo, had been a card shark. She had taught her granddaughter to play poker against the best. Sophie had won game after game, gleefully ripping off all four brothers, much to their groans of disgust.

Artemais had finally thrown his cards onto the table in exasperation, hauled Sophie out of her seat and thrown her over his shoulder.

“I’m taking her to bed. My ego won’t stand for any more beating tonight. I’m sure we’ll get our revenge tomorrow night. ‘Night guys.”

Rowdy laughter and catcalls followed them out from the kitchen, as Artemais carried her up to his room. Making passionate love to her, over and over, she had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep.

But something had woken her up, and Sophie couldn’t put her finger on it.

Easing herself out from under Artemais’ splayed body; she shivered, pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater and opened the window. Staring out into the moonlit night, she intuitively knew she needed to go for a walk. Silently pulling on socks and running shoes, she crept out of the house, into the backyard and out into the woods.

Something about these woods drew her. She had no idea where the drawing feeling came from, but she felt as if she were trapped in a book from her childhood. Magical trees, forests, whimsical creatures, and werewolves. Her brain whirled with activity, as she sucked in deep lungful of the fresh night air. Cracking twigs as she wandered around the woods, she circled a perimeter around the back of the house, not wanting to move too deeply in case she got lost.

Suddenly, she heard a loud metallic
snap
. The knowledge that she wasn’t alone in these woods had a jarring effect on Sophie. Wishing she had woken up Artemais for her midnight stroll, she froze, glancing around her, looking for whomever she could hear near her.

Even though it was dark, the moonlight cast a glow around the forest, and Sophie had no trouble seeing the surrounding area. Finally seeing the figure of a man as he stood up from the ground, Sophie crept forwards, wondering what he was doing. He wore faded jeans and a woolen sweater, so she couldn’t place him as a park ranger. She couldn’t think of a reason for anyone else to be in the area.

Halting once she had him clearly in view, Sophie looked around the strange man, trying to figure out what he was doing.

Then she saw the huge trap.

Large and silver, it glinted menacingly in the moonlight. Scared, Sophie felt sick for a moment, worried she would puke there and then. The thought of any helpless creature, let alone any of the wild wolves in the park getting caught in the trap made Sophie feel physically ill.

Just when she had decided to turn around and go back to collect Artemais, the man picked up a huge fallen branch, and he looked right up to her.

“Hey!” he called out.

Panic welled in her, she couldn’t think or breathe. Sophie simply reacted, turned and fled.

“Hey!” the man called again. There was another, much louder, sickening
snap
and then twigs snapping as the man undoubtedly started to follow her. Adrenaline rushing into her system, Sophie ran faster, twigs and branches catching on her arms and face, scratching her and slowing her down.

Determined not to squeal or shriek like a girl, Sophie concentrated simply on running. Large, heavy footfalls fell behind her, and Sophie could hear the man chasing after her, spurring her into a faster flight.

Panting, Sophie had no idea where she was anymore, or which direction the house lay. After what felt like eons, but might have been a minute or two, a heavy arm clasped her shoulder, pulling her to a stop.

“Hey!” the man panted, “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to explain.”

“There’s really not much to explain. Honest. Just let me go,” she replied, gulping in air.

The man held onto her shoulder, hard, but not causing her any pain. He awkwardly ran his other hand through his hair, seemingly searching for words.

“Look, I’m here to find some answers. I thought that would work, but it won’t. I set off the trap; I’ll go back and get it. I was going to dismantle it before I saw you anyway.”

Sophie took another look at this man. Something seemed strange about him. He looked tense, not just that guilty-been-caught-doing-something-naughty, tense, but also an underlying anxiety or burden. Something really seemed to be eating away at this man.

Under different circumstances, Sophie would have felt her heart go out to this man. She might have tried to soothe him, calm his fears. But it was dark, and she felt scared and alone. While she felt a pang of pity for this guy and whatever his problems were, her mind kept racing, reminding her she needed to get back to the house. That and she obviously still had too much adrenaline pumping through her system from their chase and flight.

Uncertain how to move on from here, Sophie tried to placate him.

“Look, I was just going for a walk. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sure you’ll take that trap back. I just want to go now.” Sophie carefully, slowly, stepped out from under his grip. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Taking a step back, then another, Sophie collided into a hard, masculine body.

Shrieking, she jumped back, turning around.

William stood there, half hidden in the darkness cast by a tree. He didn’t look very pleased. Reaching out, he drew Sophie protectively under his shoulder.

“Sophie. You’ll catch a chill. Who’s your friend?”

Sophie grinned. William fairly vibrated with protectiveness. It felt kind of cute in an annoying way.

“I don’t know William, why don’t you ask him yourself? I didn’t get around to introducing myself.”

The man squinted up at William, obviously more ill at ease than before.

“I’m Roland Matthews.” Holding his hand out to William, he waited a moment for William to take his hand and shake it. William’s body froze a little as he clasped Roland’s hand. If Sophie weren’t being held so close to him, she wouldn’t have noticed. William’s nostrils flared for a moment, as he inhaled deeply.

“Roland. What exactly are you looking for?” he asked, obviously having overheard the end of their conversation.

Roland fidgeted.

“I’m not sure. Look, I need to go pick up that trap. I should be able to find it, then I’d better head on out.”

“Maybe we should catch up. I might be able to help you. I’ve lived in this area all my life,” William offered, voice casually smooth, but steel obviously underlying his offer.

Roland blinked, obviously hearing the steel. “Uh. Sure. Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Where are you staying? I can come over tomorrow morning sometime to start your search,” William pressed.

“I’m in the local motel. Just down in the village a few miles out.” He sighed, resigned.

“Until tomorrow then. Come on Sophie. Let’s get you warm.”

Steering Sophie as if she were a sheep, William turned them both around and headed back towards where she assumed the house stood.

Once they were out of earshot, Sophie stepped out from under his shoulder, and berated him.

“What the hell did you think you were doing, William? I was just out for a stroll—” Sophie didn’t even get to finish her lecture before William set in.