White Knight (13 page)

“The loup garou.”

“And the Magi, and even the vampires if they posed a threat.”

“By creating a master race?” Knight said, adding to the conversation for the first time. This part directly involved him.

“Yes. Apparently they started small, attacking a few encampments of feral loup and half-breeds, creating enough fear that some of them agreed to work for her.”

“Like the loup who attacked Springwell.”

“Exactly.” Jillian swallowed hard. Knight didn’t envy the woman her grief. “Fiona used those loup to gather information. It’s how she learned who Knight was.”

At least that answered a few of Knight’s burning questions about how he’d come under Fiona’s crosshairs. He’d been ratted out by a terrified half-breed who’d probably turned over the information to save him or herself. Knight couldn’t blame them for wanting to survive, but the betrayal burned deep down with the ever-present darkness.

“Stonehill was a test,” Jillian continued. “The success of it only seemed to fuel Fiona’s ego. They attacked Potomac, hoping to instill more fear in our people, assuming we’d roll over and give them Knight to prevent more bloodshed. Discovering that Rook was at Potomac changed her plans.”

Capturing Rook during the Potomac slaughter had led to Knight trading himself for his badly wounded kid brother. And subsequently, it had led to Victoria impregnating herself against Knight’s will. They’d both been rescued, but Victoria’s successful pregnancy had likely added gas to the fire in terms of Fiona’s resolve to capture him again.

“Did the journal mention Chel—the baby, or Leopold at all?” Shay asked.

Jillian shook her head. “Not much. A few brief mentions of Fiona wanting to keep her child safe from the Magi and loup, because she was certain both parties would slaughter her.”

“Lo and behold, we’re the ones who tried to save her.”

“Everything in this journal clearly paints a portrait of Fiona’s hatred for anyone who was not her family. She briefly wrote about discovering Shay in Stonehill and being curious about her.”

“The history lesson is fascinating,” Knight said, his impatience growing. “Is there anything in there we can use against Allison, Desiree, or even Atwood? Something to help us end this?”

“One section,” Bishop said. He took the journal from Jillian and turned the yellowed pages to almost the end. “So sick and weak. Still bleeding. Don’t know what to feed baby girl. Victoria went to Atwood. Brought back formula and medicine. Getting stronger. Atwood seems to care. Says he does. I don’t believe him.”

Shay bristled. “Atwood provided the formula?”

“We don’t know if he gave them the tainted formula or not, only that he provided some while Fiona was still healing from her delivery.”

Knight didn’t care. He wanted to beat the man to death for the horrified expression on Shay’s face. For the anger and grief still radiating from his woman.

“There’s another passage a while later,” Bishop said. “Agreed to meet with Atwood. He told me the truth. I’m his daughter. I have a twin sister. He seems genuine, like he cares. I can’t be sure. I asked why he made us. He said he needed an heir. The triplets were to start a war between the loup runs. Wanted them to wipe each other out for good. I like that idea.”

“Son of a bitch,” Rook said.

So far all of their hypotheses about the hybrids, Magi, and their combined intentions were proving true. Atwood lost control of his projects, and he tried to reestablish a relationship. Those efforts failed when Fiona was killed, and the triplets began trying to think for themselves. And now that Desiree and Allison were left to their own devices, any hope Atwood had of keeping them from turning on the Magi was shattered.

No wonder the fool had turned to the loup for assistance.

“In the journal,” Shay said, “is there anything in there that might explain the sage scent we noticed back at the old sanitarium?”

“No,” Bishop replied. “Whatever or whoever carried that scent is never mentioned or alluded to. But there do seem to be large sections of time where nothing is mentioned, so it’s likely there are a lot of things Fiona omitted.”

Intense curiosity overcame Knight. “May I see the journal?”

Bishop paused long enough to make Knight’s insides squirm. Then he stood and brought the journal over.

The leather smelled like old hide, death, and the faint sour citrus scent he’d always associate with Fiona. He angled away from the room as he flipped through the yellowed pages, past rows of precise handwriting, followed by uneven scrawls that would make a doctor’s penmanship seem reasonable. Mentions of Atwood, Stonehill, the plans for Potomac. Rook.

There.

We had him. For a few hours. My sister ruined it all, damn her. She came and took them away, but we had him. Ours. Uncooperative at first. The hatred in his eyes matched the hatred in my heart, but he is necessary. A tool for our mission. He will serve his purpose as often as we need it. Then he will die. We will have him again.

Knight swallowed hard against the acid rising in his throat. The darkness swirled, wanting to rise up and encompass him, to drive away the memories of those few hours spent tied to a bed, held down with silver. Positive his brother was dying in the next room. But he didn’t give in. The darkness would keep him, and he needed to be here. Focused and aware. He had to see this finished and the last hybrid dead.

He scented her before Shay’s hand curled around his wrist. He allowed her to close the journal, the concern in her gaze deep enough to swallow him whole. “You were growling,” she whispered.

No longer embarrassed by his reactions to the memory, Knight cleared his throat. He gave the journal back to Bishop, who returned to his seat with it. Shay twisted her wrist so they could clasp hands, and she stayed by his side.

“So what next?” Shay asked the room at large.

“I contact Atwood and set up a meeting,” Bishop said. “He doesn’t know we found that journal, and he may not know that we have Leopold. We can use that to our advantage.”

“I want to go with you,” Brynn said.

Rook startled. “What?”

Bishop didn’t immediately dismiss her request. Instead, he asked, “Why?”

“Because my father may not believe you if you’re the one to say I’m pregnant.” She spoke with a determination that Knight rarely saw from the small, pale woman. “And if I’m there, he’s less likely to pull some kind of trick, or to attack.”

An unspoken part of her answer suggested she almost missed her father. Knight could sympathize, and so could her husband.

“All right.” Bishop held up a hand before Rook could interject. “And you’re not coming along. You’re too emotionally involved. Devlin can come.”

Knight looked across the room where Devlin was lurking in the shadows, listening without contributing. He hated seeing his best friend so detached, living with only vengeance in his heart. He made a mental note to speak with Rachel about him. Devlin was grieving, yes, but grief wasn’t a forever thing, and Dev would never forgive himself if he did anything to drive Rachel away.

“I’ll also place a call to Alpha Corman,” Bishop said. “It’s highly unlikely the sage scent you noticed has any connection to Rockpoint, but it’s a lead worth checking out. Anyone have something else to say or share?”

No one spoke up, so Bishop dismissed the meeting. Shay remained behind with Knight, never releasing his hand. Her grip tightened when they were alone, and she turned to face him. Misery etched tiny lines around her eyes and downturned her mouth.

“How are you?” she asked.

I should be asking you that question, love.
“I’m fine. Absorbing everything but fine. How are you?”

“Confused and angry. I hate how terribly my mother was treated by the Magi. I want to tear Atwood’s throat out for being complicit in her pain, but I can’t because Brynn is my sister, too. I won’t take her father from her for my own personal vengeance.”

“Good thing the hybrids don’t have the same respect. Maybe they’ll do us the favor.”

“Do you think that explains Brynn’s vision of Rook standing over Atwood’s bloody body? He’s killed by one of the hybrids, and Rook finds him?”

“It’s the most likely scenario.” He couldn’t imagine why Rook would tear into a man like that, especially one who could incinerate him with magic before he’d get the carotid artery slashed widely enough.

No, that wasn’t true. If anything happened to Brynn and their baby, Rook would lose it. Blindly and fiercely, he would lash out at anyone he could blame for their deaths.

“I don’t think Brynn going to the meeting is a good idea,” Shay said. “But it wasn’t my call.”

“Bishop won’t allow anyone to hurt her.”

“Or force her to return to the Magi?”

Knight shook his head. “Atwood would have to kill Bishop and Devlin before that happened, and then we’d be all over the Magi. Every Alpha would call for Atwood’s blood. We’d cry so loudly that the Congress could not ignore us until they gave us his head.”

Her resolve returned, beating back the misery that didn’t quite leave her eyes. “You’re right. I needed to hear that.”

“Anything you need, Shay. I promise.”

Her gaze dropped for a fraction of a second. Long enough to stir his senses. To make him appreciate the beautiful woman standing so close, hand in his. He wanted her, but Shay was a Black Wolf and an Alpha’s daughter. She deserved better than him. She deserved her rightful place as an Alpha female, not a role as the mate of an unstable White Wolf.

“You should check on Leopold,” he said.

Shay blinked, the spell of the moment broken. She released his hand and stepped back. “You’re right. I’ll see you this afternoon?”

“Definitely.”

He watched her go, hating the separation. Feeling it like a sting in his soul. A little bit of himself walked away with the woman he was slowly but surely falling in love with.

Rook trailed Brynn all the way upstairs to their bedroom before asking, “Are you insane?”

She shut the door with a precise click, then spun to face him. He knew that face—her jaw was set, her mind made up. “Probably, but I’m still going.”

The overwhelming need to protect his wife and baby from any danger threatened to shake him apart. He didn’t want her going without him, but his Alpha had ordered him to stay. To stay behind while his mate went off to meet up with her untrustworthy Magus father.

“I’ll be careful, Rook, I promise.”

“I know you will. I trust you, and I trust Devlin and Bishop with your lives.”

“But?”

He cupped her cheeks in his hands, her skin so smooth and cool. Beautiful and unmarred. “I hate not being there to protect you myself. You’re mine.”

“And you’re mine.” She wrapped her hands around his wrists and squeezed. “I’d never do anything to put our baby at risk. I genuinely do not believe that my father will hurt us when we see him. He wants the hybrids stopped.”

“What if the news that you’re pregnant disgusts him? I mean, the baby will be three-quarters loup.”

“I don’t know. I can’t be certain he’ll love the idea but he does love me. I believe that in my heart, now more than I ever did. I also believe that if he sees how happy I am, he’ll be swayed a bit. Hearing the news secondhand will not have that effect.”

He exhaled long and hard. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“No you don’t. I’m right more than you are.”

“That’s because you’re a teacher and you know everything.”

“Exactly.”

She twisted around to settle in his arms, her back to his chest. He pressed his right hand over her belly, his heart fluttering with the knowledge that his son or daughter was in there. He longed for the day when he’d feel his child kicking, reacting to his or her surroundings. He’d briefly thought himself too young to be a father, but now he wanted nothing more than to see what beauty he and Brynn had created.

His mate sighed and leaned more heavily into him. She covered his hand and pushed him lower. The surprisingly aggressive move slid his hand down her thigh, to the hem of her skirt, then urged him back up. Beneath the fabric, fingers skating over the warmth of her leg. Inner thigh.

Arousal surged in his veins, heating his blood. Pregnancy often made loup garou females more sexually aggressive than usual, and the instinct seemed to have made its way into Brynn. He had no qualms with that, as long as sex in no way endangered their baby.

As if sensing his hesitation with exploring further, Brynn said, “Dr. Mike said it’s okay for now. Please?”

Never one to deny his wife an orgasm or two, Rook used both hands to shove her panties to the floor. She kicked them away, back still plastered to his chest, her breath coming in light gasps. The scent of her arousal made his nostrils twitch. His cock thickened, and she pushed back against him, whining softly.

“You want that?” he whispered. He licked the side of her neck, then bit the skin just below her ear, loving the taste of her.

“Please, baby.” She reached behind to grab his ass, holding him close.

After their first time being intimate, they’d begun to explore and to play more, each finding what the other liked most in bed. Brynn was shyly wild about being taken from behind while standing, bent over the bed or dresser. With his bulk and height, he dwarfed her in that position, which only added to the eroticism of it. And while he looked forward to doing that very, very soon, he had something else in mind first.

“Spread your legs for me,” he said.

She complied with a gasp that sent goose bumps along his shoulders. He cupped her sex in his palm, savoring the familiar heat. Loving the way her breath stuttered and her legs trembled. He stroked her core with a single, teasing finger until she cried out in frustration.

He kissed her neck, licking the shell of her ear, then down to nibble the lobe. She writhed beneath him, and he held her tighter around the waist with his left arm. Teasing strokes, never going where she wanted his touch most. He slid the tip of his finger inside, barely an inch, just to feel her gasp and squirm and try to push down. To take more inside.

“Not until I’m ready.”

She shivered.

With only the tip of his finger and pad of his thumb, he drove her closer to the edge. Felt her fall apart in his arms, shaking with need but not begging. That simply wouldn’t do.

“Tell me,” he said.

“Rook.”

“Tell me.”

She growled. “I need to come, damn you.”

Rook thrust two fingers deep inside, while his thumb rubbed circles over her clit. He caught Brynn’s scream with the palm of his left hand, barely able to hold on to his thrashing mate as her orgasm rocketed through her. He didn’t stop until she went limp and keened, and then he had mercy. The scent of her release made his cock impossibly harder. She was exhausted and sated, so he’d give her a few minutes before taking his own pleasure.

He carried her to the bed and held her close, arms and legs entwined. She nestled her head beneath his chin and clung to him. So perfect.

I’ll never stop wanting this woman.

***

Shay collapsed into one of the patio lounge chairs, more mentally exhausted than physically, and at the end of her patience. Even with Mrs. Troost helping, getting Leopold adapted to moving around the spacious McQueen home was an undertaking. He’d gotten used to a single long hallway and counting doorways to find his way. The shape of the McQueen house was completely different, plus the three stories and basement. And while Leopold didn’t need to explore each room, he still had to familiarize himself with the layout of the downstairs.

His finger-snap sonar technique, while ingenious, was insanely boring to watch. If someone came into the room, he’d stop and growl, and often ask to start over from the entry. The entire process was exhausting for both of them. After three solid hours, Leopold had asked for a nap, and Shay was more than happy to comply. She’d trailed him upstairs to his room, and then escaped to the backyard.

The air had a hint of autumn chill, even at midday. Weather reports hinted at the chance of an early season snowstorm—unusual for the first week of October, according the locals. The leaves were still turning from summer green to fall gold, painting the mountains around them in dozens of shades.

In Connecticut it wouldn’t have seemed so strange to see snow in October. Winters there could be long and brutal, with unending weeks of snow and freezing temperatures. She imagined Pennsylvania to be a slightly milder version of the same.

A gentle breeze tickled across her skin like a balm. Such a simple thing, yet so missed during her month of captivity. She had taken open spaces for granted once. No more. Freedom was a precious, fleeting thing. She would sooner die than be anyone’s prisoner again.

The patio door slid open and shut. Her beast’s appreciative whine told her who was there before his scent carried on the breeze. Knight sat on the edge of the lounge near her bent knees, relaxed and smiling. Two things very unusual for him.

“How’s it going with Leopold?” he asked.

Shay grunted. “Baby steps. I can’t decide if he truly learns this slowly, or if he’s doing it on purpose because he resents being here.”

“It’s a lot to take in at once, especially when you’re blind.”

“I know, and I don’t blame him for any of it. It’s simply frustrating.”

“I imagine.”

“Has your morning been better than mine?”

He lifted one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “Probably. I visited the Barneses and their baby. Everyone is doing well. Michelle’s back on her feet.”

“That’s excellent news. I hadn’t heard that she’d given birth.”

“A few days ago. A boy. They named him Thomas.”

She smiled, warmed by the sweet gesture of naming the child after their late Alpha. “I’ll have to stop by and congratulate them.” It was no longer her job, and she wasn’t their future Alpha female, but it was the polite thing to do.

“How are you doing with this morning’s news?”

“You mean the journal?” She plucked at a thread on the hem of her t-shirt. “Still digesting it, I suppose. I’d held out hope that Fiona was right, and that the Magi had treated my mother well. I hate knowing she was nothing more than a research subject to them. A womb to breed children, considered useless when they destroyed the one thing in her that they valued.”

“It’s beyond despicable. I’m so sorry, love.”

Grief wrapped tightly around her heart. Grief for a woman she didn’t remember but whose blood ran through her veins. Grief for the agony of Chelsea Butler’s final years. Grief for herself and Leopold and Brynn, all of whom would never know their birth mother. They would only have the knowledge of her life and her legacy.

“I’m so confused,” she said without meaning to.

Knight curled his hand around hers, a welcome touch. “Tell me.”

“In my heart I want vengeance for my mother. I want to see Atwood pay, possibly with various body parts, and in every bloody way possible just like Brynn’s vision.”

“But?”

“I don’t want to see Brynn hurt anymore than she has been. We don’t know each other well, but we are half-sisters. She’s your brother’s wife, and Atwood is her father. I don’t wish upon her the grief of seeing your father torn to shreds.”

Knight flinched, and she squeezed his hand.

“It’s strange how alike we are,” he said. “Our fathers both Alphas, both lost to brutal deaths. Our mothers lost to us when we were children, and again died brutal deaths.”

Shay studied the anger and regret bracketing his eyes, uncertain of the reasons behind them. “Your mother died protecting you, didn’t she?”

“She did. I was only three when another run kidnapped me because they needed a White Wolf and decided I was fair game. My parents pursued and won me back, but at the cost of our mother’s life.” A tremor ran down his arm, and Shay resisted the urge to hug him. “She died because of me.”

Oh Knight, that wasn’t your fault, you dear, sweet man.
He took so much onto his own shoulders, even when it wasn’t his burden to bear. And he must have heard it spoken before by his father and brothers, but some things bore repeating. “Her death wasn’t your fault.”

He shrugged. Oh yes, he’d heard the line, and he clearly didn’t believe it.

Arguing the point wasn’t likely to make him see things differently, so she chose a different tactic. “Why do you believe it is?”

The surprise he directed at her was genuine and somewhat confused. “I don’t believe it, Shay, I know it.”

“Then explain it to me, because I don’t understand.”

“Potomac wanted me because I’m a White Wolf.”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “Are you being deliberately obtuse?”

“No. I want to understand how you see yourself, Knight, because you confuse me sometimes. Yes, you’re a White Wolf, and yes Potomac wanted you. But they made the conscious choice to enter this town and kidnap you. Your mother made the choice to track them down and retrieve you. The kidnappers attacked. All of that is on Potomac, not you. You were three years old.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. All of those things happened because of the choices of others, not because of anything you did or didn’t do.”

“If I’d been Gray or Black, our mother would still be alive.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re right. But one thing I can be sure of is that if I wasn’t White, your father would be alive. So would your entire town.”

Her heart flipped. “Again, you can’t be sure of that.” Before he could question her, she continued. “Your being White had nothing to do with the Magi’s decision to steal my mother and use her to birth hybrid children. Fiona and the others would still exist, and maybe they wouldn’t have concocted the whole breed-an-army plan, but they’d still hate loup. It’s likely those attacks would have happened regardless of you.”

Knight stared at her, silent and still, while so many things seemed to flicker behind his eyes. Thoughts she had no access to. But he was thinking, not arguing. Processing her point. Now that they knew more about the reasoning behind the hybrids and their attacks, it was easier to remove Knight from the equation and still see a similar result.

“I know being White has been difficult for you, Knight. I know you’ve suffered and that you carry so many burdens other loup don’t. But you are a gift to your family and to this town. I saw what they went through when you force-shifted. You are vital to all of us, and not just because of your empathy. It’s because of every single part of you.”

She saw it the moment the change occurred. The lines on his forehead smoothed out. Clarity shined in his eyes, and behind that something else burned. The intensity of it made her insides squirrely. She inhaled deeply, savoring his scent and nearness. With her free hand, she cupped his stubbled cheek.

“You are the only reason I’m alive today, Knight McQueen. You found me in the dark when all I wanted to do was hide away from the world. You gave me the strength to face my pain and to survive it.” She leaned in close enough that his quickened breaths ghosted across her lips. “My beast knew you before I did. She chose you, like I choose you. If you’ll have me.”

The wonder in his expression made her heart thrill, and then her entire world was the rasp of his fingertips across her cheek. The warm press of his lips on hers. She opened to him, returning the sweet kiss that changed her world forever.

A jolt that rocked down her spine and settled in her core. He slanted his head, allowing her better access, and she gave in to his exploration. The soft teases of his tongue, the gentle way he nibbled and sucked. The incredible taste of him on her tongue, the scent of him in her nose.

She could kiss him like this for hours and never tire of it. She wanted more. She wanted all of it.

Knight pulled away quickly, as if startled. He was breathing hard, his nostrils flaring, eyes wide. He seemed surprised, but at what she couldn’t fathom. The kiss had been beautiful.

My first.