Sliver of Silver (Blushing Death) (6 page)

“Did you notice that she kinda looks like you?” Derek asked, hesitating on the stairs. His voice was too casual, too sure.

“Nope,” I clipped over my shoulder as I shuffled to the front door. So much for
not
making the connection.

“No really,” he said. “The same soft features, the same build,” he stammered describing her, finding the right word, instead of saying something he might regret later.

I glanced back at him, giving him a surly glare.

“You could be cousins. Come look at this!” He pointed at the pictures on the wall and leaned in for a better look.

I turned on the perfect little porch, staring back into the house. I didn’t want to go back in. I wanted to get the hell out of there and forget I ever saw her happy laughing face.

Derek waved his hand at me, impatient. He wanted me to look and wasn’t going to accept
I don’t wanna
as an excuse. Trudging back across the threshold, I approached him on the stairs.

I took a deep breath as I climbed the two soft green-carpeted stairs and closed the distance between us. I stared at the woman in the pictures, really saw her.

She was dead because of me. I knew it in my bones as I stared into her gray eyes, porcelain complexion, soft features, and wheat-colored hair. It wasn’t a suspicion anymore and I couldn’t ignore it. I explained how they’d done it, but they’d tracked her, lured her, and killed her.

“They thought she was you, didn’t they?” he asked. His voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. Sometimes, Derek was just too damned smart for his own good.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

“What does your gut tell you now?” he snapped. Anger gave his voice an edge that sounded foreign but I knew I deserved it.

“My gut says ‘yes,’” I said, staring at nothing and everything.

“Maybe you should take
that
back to your Pack and discuss it,” he bit out.

Turning on my heels, I left the house without looking back at him. That familiar tug of anger twisted in my gut, burned through my muscles, and made my fingers itch to draw my sword. Anger would definitely wash away the guilt. It would also help me kill those fucks.

“Oh, believe me, I will,” I growled. “You can count on it.”

I’d been avoiding the Manit, the time werewolves gathered during the waxing, waning, and the full moon, for months. They joined as a pack and communed with their primal beasts, hunting, killing, and probably fucking. I’d never made it that far as a guest and didn’t particularly want to know. The Manit reminded me too much of Danny. Tonight, I had a reason or two to make an appearance whether they wanted me there or not.

Dean had left in a hurry the other night without any explanation and I wanted one. I didn’t know why it was important, but deep in my gut, I knew it was. Whatever he’d latched onto was gnawing at me, plus I was just nosey. At the Manit, I could see who was uncomfortable with me being there and who the new faces were. Last, but certainly not least, I had to keep an eye on Jackson.

Chapter 6

I felt like I was sitting still while everyone passed me left and right on my way North. I checked the speedometer just to check. “Seventy my ass,” I scoffed.

Finally, I reached the farm out in the middle of fucking nowhere, in Delaware County after forty minutes of driving in a near silent haze. I turned down the familiar long dirt drive as if I was in some sort of a dream. Everything seemed so surreal. My heart raced as my tires kicked up rocks and dust behind me. I hadn’t been down that drive since Danny’s last Manit, more than six months ago. My chest clenched in agony as I remembered him and the pride on his face as I held my own. Blinking back tears, I slipped into the tall grass along the drive and parked.

There were more cars parked along the drive than I remembered the last time. The car sank just a little into the soft earth as I shut off the ignition and the tires pressed the heavy weight of the car into the ground. I took hold of the steering wheel of my Grand Am in a death grip with white knuckles and broken fingernails as I sat in the silent car, trying to work up the nerve to get out.

“Breathe,” I whispered to myself. My stomach twisted into knots and my palms sweated against the steering wheel. I wasn’t normally like this.

I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t! Being back in that circle, alone, would be painful and I was going in there willingly. I was stupid, not scared.

A gentle rap on my driver’s side window startled me, and I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Get a grip,” I growled to myself. It was too dangerous to be off my guard, especially when surrounded by things that could eat me.

Kurt stood with his face filling up the driver’s side window, smirking at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He was on permanent rotation as one of the wolves guarding me. He and Jade had something going but neither was talking. All I knew was that he was way too overprotective of her and she always arrived at my house smelling of him.

Kurt was a stocky guy, solid, like a brick wall walking beside me. I got out of my car and nudged him with my shoulder. He nudged me back. Playful, comfortable, and, most importantly, familiar. My stomach stopped churning as he grinned down at me, flashing his pearly whites. I wasn’t alone. Kurt was there and he wouldn’t let me falter. That little shoulder nudge was the closest thing to a hug the two of us would ever get. I took it thankfully.

“You weren’t waiting on me, were you?” I asked with a grin, teasing. We strode side-by-side through the calf-high grass. I’d worn a pair of work boots and jeans and was glad of it even if I was sweating like a pig in a sauna.

“Not waiting, just watching,” he said with a sideways glance in my direction. “Dean thought you’d make an appearance tonight,” he said with another slight nudge at my shoulder.

“Oh, he did, did he?” I said in a saucy tone.

“Yep, just had a feeling.” The smile on his square face grew to almost beaming. There was an inside joke I wasn’t getting and anger burned through me. Good. Anger, I could work with, use like a chef and his knives.

“Your Gaoh has too many
feelings
,” I snapped, trudging through the grass ahead of Kurt.

“Funny,” Kurt said with a wistful glance. “I don’t think anyone would have accused him of that for a very long time. Not since Janey died.”

We trudged the rest of the way through the grass and into the woods in silence. It was probably best. I’d never asked about Dean’s dead wife, his mate. Now, wasn’t the time to start.

The circle was big, much bigger than I remembered. Patrick had said something about an influx, but
damn
. I thought he meant it was
going
to happen not that it had
already
happened.

Thirty more people formed the Manit circle than the 20 or 25 people I remembered. I’d never seen some of these werewolves before which made me nervous. I should’ve been paying attention, known who the possible threats were, and I didn’t.

I pushed through the tight circle of people until I was in the first row, still hidden among the very warm bodies. Dean towered in the center of the circle, his arms crossed over his chest in an imposing stance that made my body warm, and tingle beneath my skin. I hummed with the heat of his power as the moonlight glimmered across his shaved head.

Jackson stood a few feet behind Dean, stiff and gloomy. He glanced over the crowd with a smug smirk on his face. His eyes finally rested on me.

His gaze was cold and angry and he leaned forward, speaking low and guttural in Dean’s ear so that only Dean would hear. The growl in his voice made the words indiscernible to my ears and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Dean raised his hand, halting Jackson’s speech. Dean managed to shut him down with an authority I envied. I usually had to pull a weapon to get my message across.

Jackson stepped back in obvious annoyance, grinding his teeth and sneering. He focused his gaze on me, fire in his hate-filled gaze and a snarl on his lips.

Dean’s usually dark, olive-green eyes were a fierce crystal clear Caribbean blue. My body tingled in low, dark places as the eyes of his wolf bore into me, touching me in a way that merely a glance shouldn’t be able to touch.

Ours.
 

He waved me over, motioning for me to stand beside him.
Perfect!
I stepped from the crowd, tentative and apprehensive. I felt everyone in the crowd turn and evaluate me like a piece of meat as a stress-filled silence fell over them. I stepped up beside Dean but remained far enough away that I could still see Jackson hiding behind Dean’s broad back.

“I need to talk to you,” I whispered.

Dean glanced down at me with stern, commanding eyes. He cocked his head, an expression that was positively canine and focused on me for a long moment. His eyes trailed fire up and down my body with each passing second before he even acknowledged my existence with a nod. I guess that meant talk.

“I went to the victim’s house today,” I said. “She . . . uhm . . . she,” I stammered. Why was this so damned hard?

“She looked like you,” Dean growled. Those crystal clear Caribbean blue eyes blazed with ferocity as he met my gaze. The only indication he gave that he was uneasy were the muscles playing along his jaw, flexing and tightening as his face turned to hard granite.

“Well, yeah,” I said, a little annoyed. “Even Derek noticed,” I snipped. Once I spoke those words out loud, a weight lifted from my shoulders.

He nodded and dropped his folded arms to a relaxed military stance, with feet shoulder-length apart and his hands clasped behind his back. The muscles over his chest flexed and tightened.

“Thought so,” he said, nodding. “Strays.” A rumble of growls moved through the crowd in reaction to that single word snarled with contempt.

“As in stray DOG?” I asked.

He nodded.

Like I said, Dean was the silent type. “They don’t belong to a Pack. Right?”

Dean nodded again.  

“Gaoh!” Jackson snapped from behind Dean’s broad back in a gruff, angry tone. “How can we trust her?” The glare he shot me was all challenge, violence. “She only comes here when it’s convenient to her. She doesn’t care about the Pack,” he barked with a slight smile cresting his thin lips.

The tone of the crowd changed to rambunctious agreement as shouts of
“He’s right
,” and “
That’s true”
rippled through the crowd.

Lifting my chin, I caught Dean’s warning glare. Only the anger shining in his eyes reflected the emotion tightening his jaw. His face remained a façade of expressionless authority and power.

“She is responsible for our previous Beta’s death, no matter how substandard he was,” Jackson cooed, a devious smile curling into a sneer.

A twinge of pain twisted my gut as my blood-soaked hands flashed through my mind. Rage filled me.
How dare that skeezy bastard talk about Danny?
He didn’t have the right and if it was the last thing I did, Jackson would pay for that remark. I narrowed my gaze on him and let him see the monster behind my eyes.

I clenched my jaw and flexed my fingers repetitively as I stared deep into Jackson’s empty dark eyes. Before I knew it, my hand rested on the gun holstered at the small of my back. The cool metal felt familiar and welcoming in my hand, clearing my head of all the emotional bullshit that made me question myself. The feel of my gun in my hand let the rage in my system percolate to near boiling. The holster’s safety notch clicked as I dislodged the gun and slid my finger across the trigger.

I could kill him right where he stood and not be one bit sorry for it.

He’s a danger to us and ours to discipline
, that soft voice whispered through my mind, and I couldn’t help the malicious smile that turned up the corner of my mouth.

Dean’s large, warm hand settled gently on my shoulder, shaking me out of my focus by the hum of power passing through my skin. Heat reached down to my womanhood, tilting my world on its side. I gripped the metal of my gun harder, to focus.

Jackson, I wanted to hurt Jackson,
I reminded myself.

Dean shook his head, staring down at me with trepidation in his crystal blue wolf eyes. Rubbing his thumb lightly across my clavicle, he sent shockwaves rippling through me. It was a slight touch that rocked me to my core, making my body ache for things I didn’t understand.

Ours . . . Mine.

I rolled my shoulders and stretched my neck as I relaxed into Dean’s warm touch. I let his strength, his power, flow over me in hot waves. I allowed my body to relax and released the death grip I had on the butt of my gun. Later. I could hurt Jackson later.

“Enough, she was not to blame,” Dean boomed over the crowd, quieting them all into chastised silence. His Caribbean blue eyes never left mine.

“Perhaps
you
are to blame for the death of one of our own,” Jackson said in a soft, mocking subservient tone, but the implication was plain enough.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd and then an eerie silence fell over the Pack. The air shifted, capturing all the static electricity of trepidation and anxiety of the group. Even I couldn’t believe Jackson would be so openly disobedient, so brash. Perhaps things in the Pack were more in flux than I’d thought.

Dean reached out, more quickly than my eyes could detect and much more quickly than Jackson was prepared to dodge. Snatching Jackson by the throat, Dean yanked him close and slammed the smaller man into his brick wall of a chest.

“Are you challenging me, Jackson?” Dean snarled. A low, vicious growl rumbled through him as he bared his teeth to his Beta. “You wanna finish this?” Dean growled, bashing Jackson into the ground like a sack of dirty laundry. “I’ll take no more disobedience, from you or anyone.”

I actually prayed for Jackson to stay down, for his own good.

Jackson glared up at Dean, his eyes narrowed with a ferocity that was dangerous. Then that bastard turned his gaze on me, weighing his options. My hand was back on my gun in the blink of an eye.

After a long pause, Jackson turned, resting on his hands and knees. He rubbed his cheek reluctantly against Dean’s leg, tilting his head away and exposing his neck in submissiveness. Now I knew Jackson, at least, had a brain in that head and could actually use it, making him that much more dangerous.

“Gaoh?” Jackson asked by way of apology. I could tell that one concession killed him. His shoulders were stiff with tension and his grim expression drew his brows together and tightened his already thin lips.

Dean glared down at his Beta with a fierce contempt that made me almost giddy. I wanted to taste that rat bastard’s blood on my tongue and feel his bones crumble in my fists.

“Yes, Beta,” Dean bit out the title, reminding the ass he was second to Dean. My heart thumped hard in my chest at his show of power.

Mine.

“I’m not the only one who doesn’t trust her. How do we know she’s not lying? How do we know it was werewolves? That could put us all in danger,” he cajoled. His voice and tone appealed to the crowd, drawing cheers and whispers of descent. 

Sneaky, sneaky wolf
, she growled in my mind. She didn’t like the backhanded politicking either.

Dean actually considered I might be lying!
A tug at my gut turned my stomach as the thought passed through my mind.

Maybe he thought I was nuts.
I needed him to believe me. I wanted Dean to believe me. I don’t know why but it mattered to me that he did.

“She’s correct,” a voice from the crowd called.

All eyes, including mine, turned to the dangerously thin, almost scrawny man, stepping away from the crowd. He approached and knelt before Dean with his head bowed, his eyes cast down. “Gaoh,” he said in a strong voice, sharp and unafraid. In the moonlight, his hair was a bright orangey red.

Stewart Taggar.

Freckles splattered his shoulders and arms like wet paint. He was dressed in loose-fitting jeans and an even looser fitting tank top that made him look like the clothes swallowed him whole.

“I transported the victim to the morgue and caught the scent of werewolves. Two of them,” he said. He raised his head and soft hazel eyes met mine and then Dean’s as his gaze darted from one to the other.

“Did you recognize their scent?” Dean asked, motioning him to stand.

He stood. “No, Gaoh. There was, however, one male and one female. Their scents were intertwined. I think they were a mated pair. She was in heat,” he said.

Something tugged at the back of my brain as my dream replayed behind my eyes. I didn’t know what was going on with me but I sure as hell didn’t like it. If I was going to have visions in dreams, couldn’t they be nice dreams with unicorns and lollipops? Maybe me winning a couple of million dollars. I liked that one.