Chapter
Fourteen
Connor should have been shocked. At least he
figured he ought to be a helluva lot more
than mildly surprised. Instead, he felt as if a dozen puzzle pieces
had suddenly clicked neatly into place. “That’s why she saw my wolf
tonight, isn’t it? And why my wolf is so on edge?”
“Nothing can be hidden from a mate. And
our wolves often recognize a mate long before we do. It’s happened
more than once in our own Pack. Look at Geoff
Lassiter.”
He nodded. Geoff had known that Melly
Chalmers was his mate ever since they were in high school together.
He’d had to wait years, however, for her to come to the same
conclusion.
“I’ve known Zoey for just over a week.”
It felt longer though. And it felt right.
But from a human standpoint, it was far too soon to tell her so.
He’d have to be patient, although he hoped he wouldn’t have to wait
as long as Geoff had. Meanwhile, something else bothered him.
“Look, is the wolf going to take over every damn time I’m around
Zoey? I don’t remember this happening to anyone else when they
found a mate.”
“That’s because our numbers are small
and most pairings are between Changeling and human. Our inner wolf
only comes to the forefront when the mate is also a Changeling, and
only because it needs to communicate with the other’s wolf during
the first mating.”
“Zoey—”
“Zoey isn’t a Changeling, I know,”
Jessie said. “But she may not be fully human. She has powerful
gifts we haven’t seen before. Frankly, I’m not sure what she is. And I don’t think she knows
either.”
Connor remembered the split-second
vision he’d had the night of the ice storm, when he’d first held
Zoey Tyler. About the strange cavalcade of animals that flashed
through his mind. But his farsight had shown
him nothing more so he’d chalked up the incident to his own
fatigue. Still did. As for gifts, many human beings had latent
abilities—telepathy, telekinesis, precognition—but they went
untapped and undiscovered. Zoey might have more talents than most,
but she was still human. His wolfen instincts weren’t telling him
anything different. He shook his head and focused on his present
dilemma. “So what the hell do I do?”
“You’ll have to tell her what you are,
and soon, before your wolf blows your cover. And, if I were you,
I’d cement the relationship so your wolf will settle
down.”
Cement the
relationship? “You mean—”
“Uh-huh. Getting married is nice too,
but that’s for your human side. Once it recognizes its true mate,
the wolfen side declares its bond during sex. And as you know, it’s
for keeps.”
He nodded. He knew that. No doubt a
human male would be more than a little freaked out by the whole
mate-for-life thing, especially on such
short notice. Connor, however, was Changeling. He could easily
picture spending the rest of his long lifetime memorizing every one
of Zoey’s freckles . . . and his body stirred to life at the
thought. Still, he had a problem. “Jess, I’m not sure it’s possible
to cement anything with the wolf emerging at—uh—critical moments.”
Jessie chuckled. “I imagine that’s been
mighty awkward for you. Don’t worry, I have a gris-gris—a charmed
amulet—that will keep the wolf at bay. It’s impossible to Change
while you’re wearing it.” Her expression sobered quickly. “Just
don’t forget to take it off when the bond is complete. The charm
has residual effects, and you might not be able to Change for a
couple of days or so. Meanwhile, you need to stay as close as
possible to her, Connor. She needs your protection until we’ve
dealt with Bernie. Lowen looked at her leg again tonight and it’s
not pretty.”
“Well, sure, it’s scary-looking with
all that bruising but—”
“The wounds have opened up and started
bleeding again like they were fresh.”
Bleeding? “I know she was suddenly in a
lot of pain and—” And he’d abandoned her to go after Bernie. He
smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I left
her.”
“She was in pain because her sire was
here and in wolfen form. The presence of his
powerful and discordant energies had a very grave effect on the
original bite wound.”
“The only thing powerful about Bernie
is his breath. He’s a damn nasty old drunk, but he doesn’t have any
power to speak of.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he
realized that the nasty old drunk had
mysteriously overcome the effects of silver nitrate, and just
outrun two younger, stronger wolves. How? He racked his brain,
trying to think of some detail he might have missed during his
visit to the Gervais farm, but came up blank. “I don’t know what
the hell to think, Jess.”
“He’s not the Bernie we know.
Something’s changed and it isn’t for the better. We’ll figure it
out tomorrow when the Pack gets together. Right now, you’d better
look in on your lady.”
Connor sighed. “Wish me luck, because I
have no idea what I’m going to say to her. Where is
she?”
“Out cold in the guest
bedroom.”
“What?”
“She’s okay, just had a few drinks with
Devlin. She’ll probably have a helluva headache in the morning, but
all in all, I figure it was a pretty good antidote to everything
that’s happened to her today. Probably good for you too,” Jessie
teased and called back over her shoulder as she walked away, “Buys
you a little more time to think up something to say.”
Connor shook his head and headed for
the house. If he had years to think about it, he knew full well
he’d still come up blank. Goddammit, he’d just been trying to make
things right after walking out of Zoey’s apartment earlier in the
week. True, he’d had the chance to bring her luscious body to peak
this time—and parts of him immediately stirred to rampant life—but
he’d still gone charging off without a single word. He doubted that
the orgasm he’d given her was going to gain him many
points.
He stopped to examine Fletcher, who was
stretched out beside a lawn chair. The yellow Lab was once again
the epitome of placid friendliness.
Culley and Bill joined the tall vet as
he knelt by the dog. Bill’s reddish brows were knitted together in
concern. “Is Fletcher all right then?”
“He’s fine.” Connor gave the dog a
final pat and stood. “He was just being protective.”
Bill spat. “Shouldn’t have needed to be
protective in his own backyard! That Bernie must be bloody
mad.”
“Crazy or not, Bernie shouldn’t have
been able to Change at all,” said Culley. “We all know it’s not
possible with that much silver nitrate in his veins. But I’ve been
thinking—what if there’s something wrong with the
silver?”
That just can’t be . .
. Connor felt in his jacket for the bottle. It was dangerous
cargo for a Changeling, but it also had many uses for a healer,
both metaphysical and medical. He always carried it with him, and
had topped it up from the gallon glass jug in the clinic’s pharmacy
before he’d even met Zoey. Filled it again twice since then. The
jug was silver nitrate without doubt—he’d spilled a tiny drop on
his finger a couple months ago when the jug was new. The nitrate
had burned like acid and rinsing the spot did no good. He’d finally
had to ask Birkie for a charmed balm to douse the invisible fire.
Still. . . . He pulled the little bottle out
of his pocket. Silver nitrate was colorless and odorless. It looked
exactly like water.
“Maybe the manufacturer labeled it
wrong, maybe it doesn’t have the potency it’s supposed to,”
suggested Culley. “Does the stuff expire or something? We should
get Devlin to do a test on it.”
Connor stared at the bottle.
A test. Without a word, he spun open the cap
and splashed the contents over the palm of his hand.
Bill leapt backward off his chair to
avoid the flying droplets. “Bloody hell, Connor! What are you
trying to do?”
His friend needn’t have worried. There
was no pain. Nothing. Not a damn thing!
Connor should have been writhing on the ground in agony. The fact
that he wasn’t didn’t bring him any comfort. He would have felt
much better if the stuff had burned a hole clear through his
hand.
Cautiously, he sniffed the moisture in
his cupped palm, touched a finger to it, then his
tongue.
“Water.” He looked at his friend and
his brother with stricken eyes. “Dear God, it’s just plain
water.” Connor’s mind reeled with the
implications of his discovery. Small wonder Bernie could still
Change, but that was far from the worst of
it.
Culley said it aloud. His voice was low
and calm but the words hammered at Connor nonetheless. “Zoey wasn’t
treated in time. Not treated at all. She’s going to Change soon and
she doesn’t know a thing about it. And she’s subject to that rotten
bastard Bernie.”
Connor closed his eyes as the full
horror of the situation washed over him. Born a Changeling, he was
subject to no one. But humans who became Changelings were in the
power of the one who had bitten them, the sire. They could be found
by their sire anywhere, anytime, summoned and even compelled to
obey. Nature had intended it as a built-in safety feature. If you
sired someone, you were responsible for them. You had to take care
of them until they could control themselves—and once in a rare
while you had to take control for them so
they wouldn’t hurt themselves or anybody else.
The potential for the misuse of such
power wasn’t a concern in most cases, since siring was usually done
between mates. And the power of the sire wore off naturally with
time, just as the need for it dissipated. His own mother had sired
his father, and their loving relationship had now spanned
centuries. Jessie had sired Bill just over a decade ago, and she
wouldn’t dream of so much as compelling him to take out the
garbage. But Bernie was selfish at best, vicious and sadistic at
worst. As a sire, he could force Zoey to do almost anything against
her will. And he was no longer in control of himself. The fact that
he had attacked a human being proved that.
Connor was sick at heart when he
finally let himself into the guestroom, but even so, the sight of
Zoey almost tugged the corners of his mouth into a smile. She was
deeply asleep, her russet hair a riot of waves over the pillow. She
was snoring loudly and her feet hung off the side of the bed. He
set about rearranging her, easing her onto her side to quell the
snoring. He kissed her forehead and gently pulled the bedding over
her.
He’d like nothing more than to slip
under the blankets too and hold her tightly. Instead, he settled
into an armchair by the window and watched her. He’d never felt so
helpless in his life.
A first Change always occurred on a
full moon, although an experienced Changeling could shift at will.
The light of the half moon glimmered faintly through the window and
fell across the bed where Zoey lay. Connor had nineteen days at
most to prepare her. Nineteen days to win her
trust, reveal my Changeling nature, break the news to her that
she’s going to turn into a wolf, and coach her on the upcoming
experience. No problem.
Christ.
Zoey awoke to a room ablaze with color.
Vibrant sun poured in the window like a golden syrup, making every
garish pink rose on the bright yellow quilt, the yellow wallpaper,
and the yellow rug stand out with appalling clarity. She squinted
at the spectacle, wishing she’d stopped at a couple or three or
five drinks. This kind of decor could be fatal to anyone with a
hangover, and she had a whopper.
She sat up on the edge of the bed with
a groan, and stayed there for several moments until she was sure
her brain wasn’t going to burst from the change in altitude.
Eeyew. Her tongue felt like a terrycloth
towel left six weeks in a football player’s locker. She needed
water, aspirin, and especially a toothbrush. But in the end it was
the need to pee that finally persuaded her to make a move. The en
suite bathroom didn’t look too far away . . . . Slowly she leaned
forward to shift her weight to her legs and paused, hesitant to
move further.
“Need a hand?” asked a deep male voice
from the other side of the room.
Zoey jerked in surprise and swore as
the jolt knifed through her brain. “What the hell are you doing in
here?” she whispered fiercely. She didn’t dare yell, although she
certainly wanted to. She remained seated and turned—carefully—to
peer at Connor through squinted eyes. “Can’t a girl get a little
privacy? I’m not—” She almost said she wasn’t dressed but then
realized she’d slept in her clothes. Double
eeyew.
“Just watching over you while you
slept. Thought that party-crashing wolf might have given you more
night-mares.”
“Thanks, but I’ve been able to sleep by
myself since I was three.” Aware that Connor’s eyes were on her,
she reflexively tried to comb her hair with her fingers. A
mistake—even her scalp hurt! She gave up and glared at him as best
she could while still keeping her eyelids shuttered against the
blinding sunlit colors. Her body protested as she got to her feet
only a little awkwardly, straightening her shirt as she swallowed a
groan—then headed for the en suite bathroom with as much dignity as
she could muster.
The bathroom turned out to be worth the
trip, and not just because her bladder had been fit to burst. There
was a welcome bottle of acetaminophen on the counter, a pitcher of
ice water, a glass, and a brand-new toothbrush. Beside the fresh
towels was a soft fleece jogging suit and a T-shirt with a note:
Thought these might fit you.
Jessie.
Zoey peeled her own clothes off
gratefully, although every joint and muscle ached almost as much as
her head. She didn’t drink often, but she’d sure made up for it
last night. Three drinks at least before Lowen showed up. She lost
count of how many she’d had afterward with Devlin. She checked her
injured leg and was relieved that the wounds hadn’t bled through
the bandages. Something to be grateful for. But Lowen had been
unable to tell her why her leg had been bleeding in the first
place, just suggested that maybe she hadn’t been taking it easy
enough. She supposed that could be true. After all, what had she
done all afternoon? There’d been a fire, a big one, and she’d run
around interviewing, photographing . . . She hadn’t sat down for
what, five hours? Six? Maybe she did need to
take it easier. Elevate her leg, apply ice, and do everything that
Connor had initially told her to do days ago and Lowen had
reiterated last night.
Connor. She was still plenty annoyed
that he’d ditched her the night before. Sure, Devlin said he’d gone
after the wolf, but couldn’t the man have said something? Was he
going to act weird every time they became intimate? Maybe it was
the hangover, but she felt even more annoyed
that she wanted Connor naked and as soon as possible. It just
wasn’t fair to be so damn attracted to somebody you were trying to
be mad at.
The shower did a lot to revive her. It
was awkward trying to keep her leg out of the shower stall—or at
least out of the stream of water—but she managed it. Mostly. She
took her time drying her hair, aware that Connor was likely waiting
for her, and she was determined to make him wait as long as
possible. By the time she was ready to pull on the clothes Jessie
had left, she was a lot less stiff—although she was grateful the
clothes were soft and pliable. The heather gray of the knit pants
and jacket was pleasantly neutral, while the red T-shirt loaned her
complexion a little needed color. She surveyed her image in the
mirror and decided that she no longer looked as bad as she felt,
which was more than she’d hoped for.
She walked out and saw Connor looking
out the window, and her eyes automatically took in his masculine
backside. Appreciatively. Too appreciatively. Her insides clenched
and she averted her gaze at once. She needed to clear the air
between them, dammit, and buzzing hormones would only distract
her.
“You took off on me,” she
said.
He turned around slowly. “Culley and I
followed the wolf.”
“Nuh-uh. You took off before it howled. You ditched me without a word and took
off.”
“I knew the animal was there long
before it made a sound. I made certain you were all right and then
my brother and I went after the wolf.”
The words got through this time. Her
eyes were wide open now, despite the way the light stabbed into
them. “Wolves,” she corrected. “There were two of
them.”
“Right, wolves,”
he amended.“I guess I was more focused on the one that attacked
you, the one that was about to attack you again.”
“The silver and black one was chasing
it,” she persisted. “Didn’t you follow it too?”
“We followed the gray
one.”
That seemed more than a little strange
to her. The new wolf had seemed intent on tearing apart the gray
one. Why would it change its mind and leave once it was on the
other side of the fence? She changed her line of questioning. “So
you were what, trying to catch it?”
“We were trying to track it. We had the
wolf in sight, followed it all the way out to the golf course. And
then we lost it.”
She could see more than frustration in
his face. His eyes were storm-dark with fury. Anger again, she
thought. His brother, Devlin, had been angry last night too. And
Zoey hadn’t needed her unpredictable psychic abilities to tell her
that Jessie would like nothing better than to get her hands on
someone or something. Yet all of them had been genuinely pleasant,
even smiling. Nothing but concern was directed at her. The
white-hot temper lurking beneath their friendly faces was all for
the wolf. Why? It didn’t fit, it just didn’t seem like the right
reaction to her. Who gets mad at a wild
animal?
“So it’s definitely the same wolf, the
one that bit me?” she asked Connor.
He nodded curtly.
“And now there’s another one. How many
goddamn wolves are wandering the streets of Dunvegan?” How long before someone else gets attacked? The thought
made her ill. “This is all my fault. I should have stuck with the
truth and told readers about the wolf in the first place. I
shouldn’t have let the authorities pass it off. I should have
yelled and screamed and beat on the police station desk until
somebody listened to me.” She closed her eyes for a moment and
opened them when strong arms slipped around her.
“You’ve already warned people,” said
Connor, gently pulling her close.
“I didn’t tell them it was a goddamn
wolf!” Why had she been so careful?
“No, you didn’t. Instead, you warned
them in such a way that they’d be watchful without being panicked.
Or skeptical.” He tipped her chin up so she had to look at him.
“Nothing would have happened differently if you’d called the animal
a wolf instead of a dog in your article. Being more insistent with
the cops or the game officials or the dogcatcher wouldn’t have done
any good either, just gotten you written off as crazy or
hysterical.
“Besides, now the authorities know you
were right. They know it’s a wolf. Fitz was at the party last
night.”
“Sergeant Fitzpatrick?”
“He’s out hunting for the wolf right
now. So are Culley, Devlin, and several of our friends. Trust me,
they’ll find it.”
She could read the truth in his face.
And she did trust him, even though she wasn’t even close to
satisfied with his reason for leaving her so abruptly the night
before. Zoey sighed and rested her face—albeit gingerly—against
Connor’s broad chest. “It’s too damned early and I’m too hungover
to be having this conversation. My brain hurts. I can’t think
straight. I can’t even decide how pissed off I am at you for
ditching me.”
“I didn’t ditch you. I was trying to
protect you from the wolf.”
“By leaving me? I ended up facing the
wolf all by myself.”
“The other wolf was there.” His voice
sounded odd. Strained. “You weren’t alone.”
“Right. Lucky for me that another wolf
wanted dibs on eating me.”
“It wasn’t going to—” He broke off and
sighed. “Look, I need to talk to you. It’s important, Zoey. Meet me
at the clinic later?”
“Maybe.” She could barely picture
walking outdoors into the bright sunshine, never mind driving out
to the clinic. “That’s the best I can give you. I feel like
crap.”
“I know. I’d like to give you more
time, but I’ve got to talk to you, tell you some things. Why don’t
you come out to my place around seven? I’ve got a great hammock
under some shady trees, and you can just relax while I make you
some dinner. Barring a five-alarm emergency, I’ll be there.” He
paused and added, “Please.”
“All right,” she said at last. It still
sounded ambitious, but at least there was a chance she’d feel more
alive by then.
“I’ll draw out directions and leave
them with Jessie.” He kissed the top of her head and
left.