Betrayed: Days of the Rogue (31 page)

He’d give a mock growl of annoyance
and then start to track her down. Her trail would be easy to
follow, but he’d let her think he was confused and prolong the game
just for the fun of it. Eventually he’d sneak up on her and grab
her around the waist, her cry of surprise turning into giggles.
Swinging her around in his arms, he’d nuzzle her neck and growl in
pretend anger before finally setting her down and brushing the damp
hair from her cheeks.

‘
I love you, Damien.’
She’d
run her hands over his chest and he’d close his eyes, rumbling
contentedly as she explored him. Finally, she’d cup his face. He’d
open his eyes and look down at her. Their gazes would lock and then
they’d kiss…

Damien looked at Beth’s picture,
recalling the feel of her lips on his, imagining how they’d end the
encounter in bed, laughing and rolling in a tangle of covers. He
glanced at her eyes, expecting to see them dancing with merriment
at the adventure they’d shared. Instead… He frowned and swallowed,
a feeling of unease coming over him. Were her eyes accusing? Was
the curve of her mouth less than before? A trick of the light no
doubt, but the smile faded from his lips and he slowly tucked the
picture back in his wallet.

Throat tight, he tried to convince
himself that she understood, that he was doing it for her, to right
the wrong done. Evil had to be eradicated and sometimes that meant
innocent lives were caught in the fight.

His wolf gave him an accusing
stare, but he ignored it. After all, what did the beast know of the
real world?

Grumbling, he returned to his
labours, tossing bundles of lumber from the truck with more vigour
than necessary, determined to squelch the whispers of conscience
that ate away at his resolve. He worked with the speed of one
possessed, welcoming the burn in his muscles and the sting of his
palms when splinters of wood pierced his flesh.

When he was finally done, his chest
was heaving, tiny drops of sweat tickling as they slid down his
skin. He felt better though, at least calm enough to face Rafe
without going for the man’s jugular. Not that Rafe had actually
done anything to him, but the man was too controlled, too by the
book. Like a poster child for the Academy; Dr. Rafe McRae… Damien
rubbed his neck; the name still sounded vaguely familiar, but it
wasn’t important enough to be wasting his time on.

Heading into the cabin, he quickly
showered then pulled on clean clothes and grabbed the keys to the
truck. He still felt edgy, ill at ease. After he dropped off the
vehicle, perhaps he’d go for run. It wasn’t like he really cared
about finishing the porch; he wasn’t going to be here much longer
anyway. Once this job was done, he’d never want to see Grassy Hills
again.

As if the thought had been a
summons, his cell phone rang. Damien’s muscles tensed and he
hesitated, letting out a long slow breath before answering. This
could be it. After what felt like ages of plotting and waiting, it
could all be coming to an end. An odd mixture of excitement and
trepidation filled him, yet his voice was cool and steady when he
spoke. ‘Hello?”

“It’s a go.”

“Understood.”

As quickly as that the wheels were
set in motion. Damien pocketed the phone, turned on his heels and
exited the cabin. He’d hike over to Rafe’s; it was the most logical
place to find Eve; Travelling as a wolf would be faster, but who
knew if the stubborn creature would cooperate or not. Besides, at
this point he couldn’t chance having his thoughts read by Eve… No,
by the
target
. That’s how he had to think of Eve now. She
wasn’t a woman, a living breathing creature; she was simply a
target. Any other mindset would interfere with his functionality.
As of now he was a cold killing machine.

Memories of other assignments
tumbled through his mind. Of hiding in the shadows, watching for
the next victim to come within range. The adrenaline rush as he’d
wait, muscles tensed, ready to spring into action. A roaring sound
would fill his ears when he finally moved with all the speed and
agility of a deadly and practised killer. Screams of terrors, the
smell of fear and hatred. Blood, red and hot and sticky; its
metallic tang tingling on his tongue, spilling onto the ground. And
then the silence with only the sound of his own harsh breathing
filling his ears. He’d give himself a shake, his heart beat
slowing, his muscles relaxing. The rage slipping away to the dark
recesses where it hid, biding its time until the next call to
action…

Chapter 29

“Dammit!” Rafe hit the desk top,
giving vent to his feelings in a way he seldom allowed himself. Why
would Lycan Link want him to report in now? He’d made his complaint
against Rogue Retrieval months ago; how could it take them this
long to decide they wanted an interview? He scowled at the message
on his computer screen and then spun his chair around so he could
stare out his window.

The rock where Eve had sat
sketching yesterday was in plain view. Beyond that was the edge of
the woods where he’d found the scentless tracks. And now, less than
twenty-four hours after reporting them to Reno, Lycan Link wanted
him to return to his clinic, gather his files and then fly to their
head office for an interview. Given the time between connecting
flights, the round trip would take up to three days. Three days
during which Eve would be left alone with Damien. His gut clenched
at the very idea.

Rafe narrowed his eyes. He didn’t
often believe in coincidences, and this was too neat and tidy. Why
would Lycan Link need him out of the way? Some undercover mission
they didn’t want him to know about? Reno said there were no
operatives in the area, but the scentless tracks would seem to
indicate otherwise. It could be Damien, but something didn’t feel
right about that scenario. Had Reno lied to him? The idea didn’t
sit well, but it wasn’t surprising either. As a long time Enforcer,
Reno was deeply entrenched in Lycan Link. If an important mission
was about to be underway, there was a high probability Reno would
be aware of it.

Yet, if something was going down
and it involved Lycan Link, why hadn’t Reno tried to remove Damien
from the area sooner? Reno knew Damien was on the ‘most wanted’
list; if Lycan Link found Damien here… No, it couldn’t be. And
yet...

He drummed his fingers on his desk
while replaying his conversations with Reno in his head. He
considered how the other man had almost pleaded for him to keep
Damien in the area. It had seemed strange at the time, but now it
made a sort of sick sense. Reno was purposely setting Damien up to
take a fall.

Rafe pushed to his feet and began
to pace his room. Where did his loyalty lie now? With Lycan Link?
With Reno, a man he’d thought of as a friend? Or with Damien? While
he and Damien locked horns, hadn’t he pledged his life to helping
rogues? Personal differences couldn’t be allowed to factor into
this. Should he warn Damien? Try to talk him into reporting to the
clinic before it was too late? If Adrian Somerset and his henchmen
tried to take Damien, it would be a blood bath. As a doctor, wasn’t
he supposed to be protecting life?

There was a knock on the door and
he turned to see Eve hesitantly peeking in. They hadn’t spoken
since their encounter during the night.

“I made myself pancakes for
breakfast, but there’s lots left over if you’d like to join me.”
Her voice sounded confident enough, but Rafe saw how her fingers
were tightly clenching the door knob. Last time she’d asked him to
eat with her, he’d turned her down. He was surprised that she’d
chanced it again. Perhaps the friendlier terms they’d come to last
night were giving her a dose of courage.

“I’d like that.” He agreed, pleased
to be able to momentarily postpone his present mental wrangling for
something more pleasant.

“Great!” The look of pleasure on
her face erased any doubts he might have been having. Given the
apparent upcoming events, they likely wouldn’t have much time
together after today. An hour spent in her company couldn’t hurt as
long as they kept themselves under control.

Following Eve to the kitchen, he
began getting out plates and syrup while she finished cooking.
There was something homey and friendly about working together to
prepare a meal. He caught himself humming some nameless tune under
his breath and flicked a glance at Eve wondering if she’d heard
him. Perhaps not. She was smiling to herself, but seemed intent on
what she was doing. Giving his head a self-deprecating shake, he
continued his self-appointed task, the tune still running through
his head. After arranging the dishes on the old pine table that
dominated the centre of the room, he found glasses for juice and
added some napkins as well.

The sizzle of butter on a skillet
and the scent of warm pancakes filled the room. His stomach rumbled
loudly.

Eve laughed. “I take it you didn’t
eat yet?”

“I’m not much of a breakfast
person. A few cups of coffee and I’m ready to face the day.” Rafe
leaned his hip against the counter and watched her scrape the last
of the batter from the bowl to form the final pancake.

“I’ve noticed. The kitchen is
always deserted when I get up.” She kept her eyes on the skillet,
but he could sense an undertone to her words. Had she noticed how
he ensured he left the house before she got up, even if it meant
abandoning his morning coffee fix?

He sighed and decided a bit of
honesty wouldn’t hurt. “I planned it that way. It was just…easier.
An empath’s mental defences aren’t always at their best first thing
in the morning.”

“I didn’t realize.” She flicked her
eyes his direction. “Thanks for watching out for me.”

“No problem.”

He reached out and dipped his
finger into the mixing bowl, gathering a bit of the remaining
batter that she’d missed. She playfully moved to tap his wrist in a
reprimand and he captured her hand with his free one.

“There’s likely a lot about being
an empath that you don’t know.” He found himself staring into her
eyes. They were wide and questioning, searching his own.

“Are you volunteering to teach me?”
Her voiced sounded huskier, and he sensed the double meaning behind
her words. The fragile feel of her wrist in his hand was bringing
all his dominant male tendencies to the front. He could feel her
pulse pounding beneath his fingers; see her awareness of him as a
man evident in her eyes. She could tempt a saint with her sweet,
innocent looks.

“Maybe.” He pressed his finger to
her plump pink lips. “Lick.”

She responded to his command,
parting her lips and letting his finger slide between them. He
could feel her tongue softly swirling over the tip, cleaning away
the batter and then rhythmically sucking. It brought to mind images
of her mouth on other parts of him, and he realized he was treading
down a dangerous path.

As he began to pull his finger
away, she gently nipped at him and he barely held back a growl.
“Tease,” he muttered.

“You started it,” she countered
before turning her attention to her cooking. Her cheeks were
stained pink; he wished circumstances were different and he was
able to take the encounter to its natural conclusion. Getting to
know her better would be an interesting experience. She was such a
contradiction; shy one minute and bratty the next. Legend claimed
the Fae were known for their impish behaviour and there were times
when she certainly did justice to that claim.

A chuckle escaped her as she
flipped the pancakes, one landing partially on top of another, bits
of uncooked batter spattering here and there. “I’m not much of a
cook.”

“Neither am I.”

She cast a disbelieving look his
way. “Liar. Those casseroles you leave in the oven are
amazing.”

“Confession time. They’re not
mine.” He gave an apologetic shrug. “There’s a lady in town who
makes them and sells them frozen. I just reheat.”

“Cheater!” She tossed a dishcloth
at him and he caught it neatly, chuckling at her look of mock
outrage. God, she was fun to be with. Such a change from the
paperwork and intensity of counselling.

The meal continued on with idle
banter. Rafe asked about her Fae background and she shared the
little she knew. He wasn’t surprised; it was typical for most
empaths nowadays. They tended to be genetic throwbacks. In fact,
some speculated that within a hundred years they might become
nearly extinct. It was shocking statistics like that which had
forced the Fae monarchy to begin to actively seek out its
subjects.

“There’s really a Fae queen?” Eve
propped her chin in her hand and looked at him wide eyed, seeming
intrigued by the idea.

“Apparently, though few know much
about her. Our people tend to be secretive.”

“But didn’t you say someone was
trying to make a list of all the Fae? I wonder who I should contact
about that.”

Rafe took a bite of pancake to keep
himself from answering. He could hardly announce that Lycan Link
was using its vast resources to help to coordinate the initiative.
She didn’t know the organization even existed. “I’m not really
sure.”

“Well, are you on the list?” Eve
raised her brows and looked at him expectantly.

“I…” Rafe hesitated, wishing he
could explain, but he couldn’t. “No. I don’t think so, though I
can’t say for sure. I’m only one quarter Fae.”

“Mostly human.” She nodded.

He got up to get more coffee not
wanting to lie to her, but knowing he couldn’t announce he was
mostly Lycan. She didn’t know they existed, and that was how it
would have to remain. A change of topic seemed in order. “So what
are your plans when you leave Grassy Hills?”

“Leave?” Her eyes widened as if she
hadn’t considered the idea.

“You aren’t staying here
permanently, are you?”

“No.” She mopped up some syrup with
a bite of pancake, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I came
here to learn to control my empathic abilities. In Calgary, there
were too many people around. I was being bombarded by their
feelings, unable to keep a mental wall in place and still function
normally.”