White Knight (14 page)

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked. She’d had no practice at it. Maybe she’d—

“No, love, you didn’t. I did.”

She blinked. “You were perfect. The kiss was lovely.”

“I didn’t want this to happen.”

Hurt crashed down over her arousal. “Oh.”

“Shay, I’m sorry, this is coming out all wrong.” He looked so flustered and embarrassed she remained quiet, giving him time to collect his thoughts, even though she wanted to run away and rage. “I do want you. I want you so badly I can’t see straight.”

A small flicker of hope returned. “Then what’s wrong?”

He stayed quiet so long she began doubting he would answer. Then he brushed hair from her cheek and let those fingers rest along the side of her neck. Caressing lightly. “I’m scared of hurting you. Physically.”

“I’m not.” No hesitation. No fear of him at all. Shay trusted him with her life, and she would trust him with her body and heart, if he’d simply take them. “You won’t hurt me.”

“Not on purpose. Never on purpose, but even hurting you by accident would destroy me.”

“You didn’t hurt me during your forced shift, when you weren’t the one in control. I know you won’t hurt me when you
are
in control.”

“The shift changed me, Shay.”

When he didn’t elaborate, she asked. “How?”

“I was angry before, and grieving so much loss. I went to a very dark, horrible place during that shift. I don’t know how you managed to find me again and bring me back.”

“Because even then I knew how much I needed you. I’d have done anything.”

“I know, and I’m grateful. So grateful. But I brought some of that darkness back with me. I still feel it sometimes, deep down in my soul, waiting to swallow me up again.”

Shay shivered, chilled by the stark way he spoke of darkness like it was a living thing. A ghost that clung to him, holding him back from true happiness. Oppressing the bright spirit she so desperately wanted to see free from his burdens. From his self-hatred and blame. She’d take it all away from him if she could, but these were things Knight had to work through internally. She could only do so much.

***

The darkness swirled, as though aware of its inclusion in their conversation. Knight tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the simplicity of sitting with Shay in the backyard. He tried to remember the joy of their kiss. The way his heart had pounded and blood burned as he imprinted the taste of her in his memory. He wanted the good things.

That didn’t change his need for the negative ones.

“Have you grieved for your father?” Shay asked without warning.

He startled, dropping the hand on her neck. He couldn’t manage letting go of her hand. “Of course I grieve for him.”

“Mentally, yes, but what about emotionally? Have you let it all out?”

“You mean shove my face in a pillow and sob out my feelings?” He rolled his eyes, uncaring how mean he sounded. “Crying doesn’t accomplish anything.”

“Crying is cathartic. It releases pent-up emotions and gives them an outlet. It’s why we possess the ability at all. Keeping the anger and regret inside is going to kill you a piece at a time. It’s already dragging you down.”

He snorted because she wasn’t wrong and he hated that she could read him so well. Hated it as much as he loved it. She understood him, so why did she want to take his anger away? “So I sob in your arms and the darkness goes away?”

“No, but it might lighten a little bit. Carrying it around isn’t the answer.”

“The anger helps me focus.” He didn’t want to lie to her, but he detested his inability to keep his tongue and not blurt out everything that was on his mind when in her presence. Especially when she was watching him with so much trust and affection.

“I believe you,” Shay said. “What do you think would happen if you let go of some of your anger?”

“I don’t think I can.” He didn’t know how to separate his anger from the rest of himself. In some ways, he’d become that enraged, vengeful part he’d fought against so hard.

“I’m not asking for all of it. Your father was murdered, your friend is dead. So many loup have lost their lives. We’re all angry about those things. But most of us don’t hold our anger inside and let it infect our hearts. We don’t give it power over our lives.”

“I didn’t give it power. It took its own power from me.”

“Then take it back, Knight.”

He wanted to do it for Shay. To be the happy, gentle, loving man that she deserved. He’d do anything for her—but this was beyond his abilities. He could cry for a newborn baby. He could cry for Shay’s grief over baby Chelsea’s death. He couldn’t find any tears for his own pain. Not anymore. He’d left that somewhere in the shadows of his forced shift.

“Why are you hesitating?” she asked.

The words wouldn’t come. She was giving him a chance to say it, to put it all on the table and admit why he couldn’t do it. To finally say the words out loud. To speak the truth that he’d tried to convince himself was a lie.

I can’t.

“I’m sorry.” Knight stood and walked away, out into the backyard. He had no destination in mind, and his beast whined at the loss of their mate’s proximity.

Shut up, we can’t have her.

The air shifted, and he tracked the crunch of feet over fallen leaves in the instant that a warm body crashed into him. He shouted as he fell face-first into the grass. He tried to roll and dislodge his assailant, but the strong scent of spring grass gentled his beast and slowed his reaction time. She had him on his back, hands trapped above his head, kneeling on either side of his hips. Her hair fell forward in a lovely, wavy curtain, framing her perfect face.

“You don’t walk away from me,” she snarled, shoring up the words with the strength of her Black Wolf. “I asked you a question.”

He tested his hands and found an iron grip. She wasn’t a large woman, average in height and slender in form, but she had the power of any other Black, male or female. She was no longer the frail woman she’d been when she first came to Cornerstone. He had no doubt of her heart or her strength.

And hers was the only touch he didn’t shy from. The only touch he craved more of.

She sat like that.

Disgust rippled through his gut. The intrusive thought made his insides roll with anger and hate, and in that moment, he wasn’t at home. With a snarl he didn’t recognize, Knight shoved the woman off hard enough to make her cry out, and then he crouched above her, hands encircling her throat.

Someone else slammed into him from the side, and they went tumbling into the grass. Male. Not the other female—the one who’d watched and taunted him the entire time.

“Knight, stop! Now!”

The voice of his Alpha cut through the cloud of the past and Knight went limp. The big body holding him flat to the earth kept perfectly still, save his steady breathing.

Shay. No.

Shame burned in his heart and flamed his cheeks. He’d hurt her like he knew he would.

“It’s okay, Bishop,” Shay said. “I pounced on him first, and I shouldn’t have. I should have known better.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Knight?”

His name on her lips, so concerned and sweet, only fueled his embarrassment, which strengthened the darkness.

I’ll never be free of it, will I?

“Please let him up,” she said.

Bishop moved, and then Knight was free. He scrambled away until he hit the side of the garden shed and could go no farther. Bishop and Shay watched him from a distance, still kneeling in the grass, both so concerned he wanted to scream. He was getting tired of people looking at him like he was going to explode. Or worse, attack without warning like he’d done to Shay.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” Shay sat back on her heels. “I’m sorry, I should have thought it through a little more.”

“Wait, you tackled him first?” Bishop asked.

“Yes. We were having a conversation, and he walked away.” Her cheeks colored. “I, um, got angry, and I reacted. I stopped him.”

The respect Bishop tossed her way made Knight simultaneously proud and annoyed. No one but him was allowed to look at her like that.

“There’s no excuse for me trying to choke you,” Knight said.

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“Because Bishop stopped me.”

“You wouldn’t have done any damage even if he hadn’t. You’d have stopped, Knight, I believe that.”

“Well, I don’t. I’m sorry, love. I can’t risk it.”

He hauled ass to his feet and walked away again, his heart aching more heavily with each step.

This time she didn’t follow him.

Shay didn’t stop walking until she was in the library, positive of Bishop shadowing her the entire way by his heavy footsteps behind her. She pivoted neatly on her heel and balled her hands before she lashed out and actually hit him like she wanted to. “Are you an idiot?”

Bishop blinked hard, both brows lifting. “Excuse me?”

“Are you an idiot?”

Her question must have carried farther than intended, because Rook stuck his head through the doorway and glanced between them like they were both crazy. “Everything okay in here?”

“No,” she said at the same time Bishop said, “We’re fine.”

Rook rolled his eyes and came all the way inside. “Well that answers nothing.”

“This is between us,” Shay snapped.

“He was choking you,” Bishop said.

“Who was doing what?” Rook held out his hands. “Can someone back up and fill me in?”

“Knight and I were having a private conversation, and Bishop bulldozed his way right through the progress I was making.” Shay planted both hands on her hips, not censoring her frustration or her words. She believed in her heart, truly and deeply, that Knight would not hurt her. Not really. Not badly. His fingers had barely brushed her skin before he was gone. He hadn’t been able to see for himself that he’d have stopped before causing real damage.

Because of Bishop.

“That was not a conversation,” Bishop said, his own temper leaking into his words. “He tossed you onto your back and had his hands wrapped around your throat. I didn’t stop to make sure it was how you talk to each other. I knocked him off.”

“I accidentally provoked the attack. He was defending himself.”

“From you?”

She pretended that comment didn’t pinch her pride. “From Victoria, you blind fool.”

Bishop’s expression went blank. “She’s dead.”

“How did you provoke the attack?” Rook asked.

Finally someone was listening to her. She angled toward Rook, needing them both to understand. “Knight was beginning to open up to me about how he’s feeling, what he’s thinking. He’s angry all of the time, and he won’t let it go. He won’t allow himself to grieve properly, and he won’t admit to why.” Her first error in the entire encounter came back to shame her. “He tried to walk away, and I grew angry. Very angry. I attacked him first, and I had him on his back with his hands pinned down.”

Some of Bishop’s ego deflated right before her eyes. “Hell. That’s how Brynn described finding him in that trailer.”

“Exactly. I knew the precise moment when he was no longer with me in the yard. I saw the fear in his eyes, the way his body tensed. He threw me off because he didn’t know it was me. He was protecting himself.”

“How do you know for sure he wouldn’t have hurt you if Bishop hadn’t intervened?” Rook asked.

“Because I know him.” She felt no embarrassment at admitting her feelings to his brothers. Maybe it would help them understand. “My beast has chosen him as our mate, and my heart has chosen him as well. He’s done the same, even if he hasn’t said it. Knight won’t hurt me.”

Bishop’s wide eyed surprise was no match for the wattage of Rook’s smile.

“That’s fantastic,” Rook said. “I mean, I should have guessed as much. He was a raging mess the entire time you were gone.”

“You’ve both found your mates. You know what that bond feels like. Even in your darkest rage, Bishop, do you think you could ever actually hurt Jillian?”

“I’d die first,” Bishop replied without pause.

She didn’t doubt him. “Knight trusts me. He’s starting to talk more about his experiences and his feelings, not only about the hybrids, but about himself. His life. Everything that makes him the man he is now. He won’t be able to come out from under this until he admits to it.”

Neither brother patronized her by asking what “it” referred to. They all knew. And they all tiptoed around the subject, because who wanted to discuss so terrible a thing?

“He doesn’t deny it anymore,” Rook said.

“But has he admitted it? To either of you?” Shay saw the answer in their expressions. “Has Knight ever come to either of you and said that Victoria raped him?”

Rook shook his head. Bishop said, “No.”

“Has he discussed the details of those hours he was alone with them?”

“Only what he sanitized when he told Father after our rescue,” Rook replied. Misery creased his brow and tightened his jaw. “I knew more had happened, but I didn’t know how to ask. And then when we found the chess piece and ribbon, I asked Knight if it was possible for Victoria to be carrying his child. He said yes. It’s the closest he’s ever come to saying it.”

“Close isn’t good enough.” Shay scrubbed her hands across her face, then through her tangled hair. “All I want is for Knight to be happy.”

“That’s what we all want,” Bishop said.

“Then please trust me to do this.”

“I trust you,” Rook said.

Bishop held her gaze, and she didn’t look away. She wasn’t asking this of the Alpha. She was asking this of an older brother who feared for his sibling’s sanity. She was asking a lot—to have faith in someone who was a stranger as of two months ago, and who was still recovering from her own traumatic ordeal.

“I won’t fail my mate,” Shay said.

“I know you won’t,” Bishop replied. “I trust you, too.”

“Thank you.”

“And Shay?”

She paused in the act of leaving. “Yes?”

He smiled warmly. “Welcome to the family.”

***

Knight trailed his fingers through the dirt and old bits of hay that littered the floor of the Chesterfield barn, while his ass slowly grew numb from sitting on the hard ground. He hadn’t consciously chosen the barn as his destination, and yet he wasn’t surprised when he’d found himself there. So many major events had occurred within its four rotting walls. He still regretted missing Bishop’s battle for the title of Alpha, and he always would. He could imagine it, though. Bishop was an amazing fighter.

He leaned against the grayed slats of the south wall, doing nothing more important than staring and trying not to think. He didn’t want to think about nearly strangling Shay, or about the memories that had led to scaring her. Bishop needing to intervene because Knight couldn’t control himself.

The barn provided no comfort, but it was fairly secluded while still being within the patrol zones. And his bodyguard was keeping an eye out from the hay loft, close and still giving him privacy. Luke was a lot like Tanner in how he guarded—silent, distant, and observant. Part of Knight wished Tanner was there instead. He might have been tempted to talk to Tanner a little, especially after their chat the other day.

I shouldn’t be hiding. I’m not a coward.

He couldn’t explain what he was doing, other than staying away from people. He was too mixed up to deal with the emotions of others. Selfishly, he was glad that Agnes was around to pick up his slack.

The old barn door creaked. Knight looked to his right, curious but not alarmed. A stranger stepped from behind an old stall, hands deep in the pockets of his baggy slacks. He was middle-aged or so, and definitely loup. An unfamiliar scent but one he’d noticed near the boarding house. He wasn’t Potomac, which left one possibility.

A Jones brother.

Dell and Porter Jones had lived a quiet life out in the woods with their parents, their respective human wives, and their combined four children. About a month ago, the hybrids had attacked them in the night, slaughtering the parents, Dell’s wife, and one of Porter’s children. Porter’s wife was pregnant. Thomas McQueen had granted them sanctuary in the old Flynn Boarding House, where the Potomac refugees lived.

Knight had been ordered to stay away from the Joneses for his own safety. They knew the hybrids were dangerous and hated loup garou, but Father hadn’t wanted to tell them about their interest in Knight. He didn’t want the Joneses to blame Knight for their family’s deaths.

“Afternoon,” Knight said, trying on geniality in the face of an unknown.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the loup said. “Dell Porter.” The cold way Dell spoke made Knight’s beast sit up and take notice—probably his bodyguard upstairs, too.

“Nice to meet you, Dell. I’m—”

“Knight McQueen.”

“You had an advantage on me, then.”

“I’ve been watching you. Seen you from a distance.”

Okay, creepy.
“I do tend to get around town. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Can you bring my wife back?”

His heart thumped. He opened his empathy, curious, and was blasted by a black cloud of hatred and grief. This was going nowhere fun. “No. I’m very sorry, but I can’t do that.”

“Nobody can.”

“No, they can’t.”

Luke had to be paying attention. The problem was, Dell hadn’t done anything that was actually threatening. All he was doing was being rude and a little creepy—two things Knight could handle on his own.

“I guess I had to see up close what all the fuss is about.” Dell stopped walking with about ten feet between them. “You don’t look like much.”

Knight let the insult roll right off him. “I’m taller when I stand up.”

“My wife, niece, and my parents are dead because of you.”

Yes, I know they are but Rook would chew my ears off if I said that out loud.

“A lot of lives have been lost because of greed and vengeance,” Knight said instead. “I’m very sorry that your family lost so much, Dell. I really am.”

Nothing he said had any effect on Dell’s rage—to such a degree that Knight was getting nervous. He extended his empathy to take the edge off of Dell’s temper—to try to calm the man.

As if sensing what he was doing, Dell snarled. “Stay out of my head, White Wolf. Take your own anger with you to hell.”

He yanked his right hand out of his pocket, fingers wrapped around a gun. Silver. Small. Knight didn’t stop to identify it. He rolled. The gunshot echoed like cannon fire in the cavernous barn. Dirt exploded by his hand. A second shot had fire lancing his ribs. He hit wood and came to rest by the side of a stall, panting, dizzy from confusion and shaking from a burst of adrenaline.

Two men were growling. The thud of skin on skin.

Knight glanced around the edge of the stall in time with a third shot. Luke slumped to the barn floor. Dell fired three more times in Knight’s general direction, all going wide, and then he ran. Knight stared at Luke’s still figure, so perfectly befuddled by what had happened in the last thirty seconds.

Dell Jones had tried to kill him. He’d shot Luke.

Knight scrambled across the ground, vaguely aware of the pain in his side, more concerned with the man in front of him. He turned Luke onto his back. A small red hole in the center of his stomach oozed blood at a steady rate. Knight yanked off his t-shirt and pressed it against the wound. Luke groaned, but didn’t open his eyes.

“Don’t you die, damn it. Your brother needs you.”

I can’t let Tanner’s brother die. Not for me.

He palmed his cell phone, keeping pressure with his left hand, but it rang before he could dial.

“Someone reported gunshots near Chesterfield Barn,” Rook said. “Where—?”

“I’m there. Luke’s been shot. He needs help.”

“What the fuck? Who shot him?”

“Dell Jones. He tried to shoot me. Luke got in the way.”

“Where’s Dell now?”

“The coward ran. Get here.”

“We’re on our way.”

Knight hung up and dropped his phone in the dirt. Didn’t matter. Saving Luke mattered. No one else was dying because of him. No one. He kept steady pressure on the wound, while ignoring the fierce throb in his ribs. Didn’t matter, either, he’d be fine. He didn’t have a hole in his belly.

Car engines rumbled a moment later, and then they weren’t alone anymore. Rook, Rachel, and Devlin stormed the barn, Rachel with a medical bag in her hand. She wasn’t Dr. Mike but she was younger and faster.

“He’s been shot,” Knight said dumbly. They already knew that.

Rachel knelt and felt behind Luke’s back. “No exit wound. The bullet will have to be removed.” She took something from the bag, unwrapped it, and handed it over to Knight. “It’s a pressure dressing. Use that instead of your shirt.”

He did as told, tossing his bloody shirt over his shoulder. “He saved my life.”

“And I’ll do what I can to save his, I promise.”

“Which way did Dell go?” Devlin asked.

Knight pointed, ignoring whatever he said to Rook before charging off. More voices outside suggested either backup or curious onlookers. Rachel expertly set up an IV line and began running fluids. She took his pulse and listened to his heart.

“Okay, let’s get him in the truck,” she said. “He’s as stable as he’s going to get, and we need to move him. Knight, I’ll take over the dressing.”

He scooted back, vaguely aware that Jonas and A.J. were there, and they were carrying Luke through the barn, while Rachel supported him from the middle. A hand landed on his shoulder, and he flinched away, not wanting comfort. He’d caused this.

“Were you hit?” Rook asked.

“No one hit me.” Stupid question.

“Is that Luke’s blood?”

Knight looked down at his side, surprised by the smear of blood on his abdomen and arm. More had trickled down to stain the waist of his jeans. He raised his arm. His ribs screamed, the tender skin on fire from the movement. He gasped, the pain taking his breath away.

“Shit, Knight, you were shot.”

Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Rook squatted next to him, his concern evident as he studied the wound. “It looks like a graze.”

“Feels like someone took an ax to me. Damn.” As his adrenaline waned, the slice in his skin was making itself very known.

“A shift would take care of it—”

“Not yet. I need to know Luke will be okay first.”

Rook, bless him, didn’t argue. “Then let’s bandage it up so you don’t get it infected while you pace Dr. Mike’s waiting room.”

“Thanks.”

Knight tried his best not to limp on their way out of the barn. On a regular day the walk back to Dr. Mike’s wouldn’t even have him sweating. Today every step made his ribs throb. Perspiration coated his face and neck by the time he’d managed ten feet. No way in hell was he going to complain, though.