Otherworld Nights (11 page)

The girl was a street over, behind another building. She’d gone quiet now. Reese picked up speed, hoping she’d escaped, fearing she hadn’t. As he drew closer, he heard muffled protests and a guy telling her to shut up. Then another male voice chimed in.

Shit.

Slowing, Reese carefully edged around the building. The first thing he smelled was booze. The air reeked of it, and he could see a smashed bottle lying in a pool of liquid. That booze was all he
could
smell, so he couldn’t tell if it was two guys or more. Werewolf strength meant he could manage two. More? It depended on what kind of shape they were in.

He took a look and realized he didn’t need to worry. It was only two thirtyish guys, and they were so drunk they could barely stand upright. One had the girl from behind, his hand over her mouth as she kicked and writhed and punched.

The girl’s foot connected with the crotch of the guy in front of her. When he fell back, howling, Reese caught a glimpse of the girl, seeing dark hair and a pale green shirt. It was the shy girl from the party.

Reese crept forward. The men were too intent on the girl to notice him. He grabbed the guy holding her. He yanked him away from the girl, threw him aside, then went after the other one.

After Reese blocked a few wobbly swings and sent them flying
with ones of his own, the men realized they were outclassed and took off. He’d chased them for a block, hoping to catch one and hold him for the cops. But those few blows seemed to have knocked the booze from their heads. They made it to the main road just ahead of him, darted through traffic, and hopped into a taxi.

Reese found the girl still behind the building, tugging absently at her torn shirt as she stared down at her cell phone.

“Did you call it in?” he said.

She jumped, skittering back, then saw it was him. “I was waiting to see if you’d catch them.”

“I didn’t.”

Her expression wavered between disappointment and relief. She pocketed the phone.

“You really should call—” he began.

“I know.”

She looked around, then retrieved a shoe that had fallen off in the struggle. Her fingers trembled as she tried to get it on.

“Here.” Reese bent and put it on her.

“I feel like Cinderella,” she said, trying for a smile. “Does it fit?”

He managed to return the smile. “It does. About those guys—”

“I should report it. I know that. But my parents—” She rubbed the back of her neck. “They don’t like me going to school here. Big city and all that. If they hear I was jumped by a couple of drunks, they’ll cut me off, make me come home. Maybe they wouldn’t have to find out, but …” She looked up at him. “I really don’t want to take that chance. Not when nothing happened.”

“Something did happen. You got attacked.”

“I know.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “But I’m okay. Can you—can you just walk me to the road? Wait while I hail a taxi?”

He didn’t offer to escort her home. That might have seemed like the chivalrous thing to do, but he doubted a girl who’d narrowly escaped rape wanted a stranger near her flat, so he got her into a
taxi, and realized only as the car pulled off that he hadn’t asked her name.

When Reese got back to his place, it was empty. Not surprising. Niles wasn’t around much, which made him the perfect flatmate.

He kicked off his runners, sat on the couch, and picked up the remote. He didn’t turn on the TV. Just sat there, staring at his reflection in the blank screen. Then he pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial.

His mother answered, yawning, on the fourth ring. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing. I just—” He glanced at the clock on the DVD player and winced. “Sorry, I didn’t realize how late it was. I’ll call you in the morning.”

He heard his mother get out of bed. His dad mumbled something in the background.

“He’s fine,” his mother murmured to his dad.

“I am,” Reese said. “Go back to bed. I’m sorry. I just—
” I helped this girl tonight, saved her from a couple guys, and it made me think of you
.

Of course, he couldn’t say that, wouldn’t jog those memories. He shouldn’t have called.

“One too many beers,” he said finally. “I totally lost track of time. I’ll call in the morning.”

“You sound like you want to talk.”

He forced a chuckle. “No, I sound drunk, and when I’m drunk, I like to talk. I’ll wake up Niles and make him suffer through it. Payback for eating my leftovers last week.”

She didn’t let it go that easily. Eventually, though, she accepted the excuse, along with his promise to call in the morning.

Reese hung up, but stayed on the couch, staring at the blank television screen. Twenty years ago, his mother had been the college
girl leaving a party, the one who’d bumped into the wrong guys. An American, she’d told everyone she just wanted to study abroad and had picked the University of Sydney on a lark. Not true. She’d picked it because she didn’t know anyone in Australia, and it was as far as she could get from a bad family situation.

She’d been at an out-of-town party with her boyfriend. Driving back, they’d fought—she couldn’t remember over what. He’d kicked her out of the car ten kilometers from town. A long walk on an empty road. She’d ducked out of sight whenever a car passed. Then came the one that didn’t pass. They’d had their windows down. Smelled her. Three young werewolves. She hadn’t stood a chance.

Raping her wasn’t enough. They decided to hunt her. Kill her. Feed on her. Let the police chalk it up to dingoes. Thinking she was unconscious, they’d gone to Change in the bushes. She snuck the keys from the leader’s jacket, then took off in their truck.

When she got to the authorities, she had quite a story to tell, about three men who’d raped her, changed into wolves, and chased the truck as she’d sped off. Clearly the girl was in shock after her ordeal. She needed psychiatric help, not the ridicule that would come by making her allegations public. So the police tried to cover it up, but the story hit a few small papers without the scruples to ignore it.

The Australian Pack had found out and sent a delegation to kill the trio of man-eaters. Then they sent another of their own—Wes Robinson—to take care of the girl. That didn’t mean protecting her. Their interest was in protecting the Pack, and the girl posed an exposure threat. She had to die.

Wes didn’t carry out his orders. He met the girl, fell in love, and ran away with her. All terribly romantic. Unfortunately, the Pack didn’t see it that way.

Most Packs forbade long-term relationships. The Australian one, though, operated more like a wolf pack. The Alpha—and only the Alpha—could take a mate. When Reese’s parents ran off together,
Wes Robinson wasn’t just disobeying a direct order; he’d unwittingly issued a challenge to the Alpha that could not be ignored. So Reese’s parents had spent the last twenty years hiding in the outback, farming and raising their son.

He’d been born nine months after his parents met. Also nine months after his mother had been attacked. They hadn’t told him that, of course. He’d figured it out when he’d looked up his mother’s story and seen the date.

Born nine months after a brutal gang rape. He was pretty sure he knew what that meant. He’d confronted his father about it once. His dad had said, “You’re my son.” That’s all he’d say. Wes Robinson was his father in every way that counted.

If his parents didn’t care, Reese shouldn’t. In most ways, he didn’t. But he still had his hang-ups, like making absolutely sure sex was consensual. And there were things that would remind him, pull him down into his thoughts and fears. The attack on the dark-haired girl had done that. He’d deal, but this would be a long, sleepless night.

Reese had a rugby game the next afternoon. The Pack discouraged their young sons from playing organized sports, knowing that when they came into their powers, they could get into trouble, being too strong, too aggressive. But Reese had been homeschooled, so his parents had decided he needed all the social interaction he could get. They’d made the two-hour round-trip into town twice a week so he could try out different sports at the community center. Rugby was the one he’d stuck with.

When he’d started coming into his strength, his parents had watched closely for any sign that Reese might need to restrict himself to skirmishes with his father. But they’d taught him well. He avoided fights and relied on speed and agility instead.

Now, of course, his parents weren’t there to watch him. But that afternoon, someone else was: the dark-haired girl.

He didn’t see her until near the end of the game, glimpsing her behind a group of middle-aged men. She seemed to be sitting alone. Was her boyfriend on the team? He felt a flicker of disappointment.

It didn’t matter. You couldn’t save a girl from rape then ask her on a date. That was all kinds of wrong.

After the game, when he saw her standing beside the benches, he waved. It was the polite thing to do. She walked over. Also the polite thing to do.

“How’re you doing?” he asked.

“Fine.” She made a face. “Well, not really, but I’m holding up. I just … I didn’t get a chance to say thank-you last night. Not a proper thank-you, anyway. If you hadn’t come along … Well, I’m glad you did.”

“You’re welcome, but honestly, I think you could have handled it. They were pretty far gone, and you put up a good fight. A damned good fight.”

She blushed. “Maybe. I wanted to come by and say thanks, though. A friend from the party didn’t know your name but said you played on this team.”

“It’s Reese.”

She blinked, confused.

“My name,” he said. “Reese Wilson.”

Her cheeks flushed deeper. “Right. Sorry.” She put out her hand. “Daniella DuMaurier.”

One of Reese’s teammates shouted that they were heading to the pub.

“Going out for a beer after the game?” Daniella asked.

He’d planned to. And this would be an easy way to ask her out without really asking her out, just casually invite her to come along. But he had a feeling a rowdy victory party with strangers wouldn’t be her idea of a good time.

“Nah. Essay due tomorrow. I’m just going to grab a bite to eat. Do you know any decent places around here?”

“No, but I’m sure we could find one.” Another blush. “I mean, if you want. Buying you an early dinner is the least I can do.”

Over the meal, he smoothly led the conversation, searching for a subtle way to ask her out. He knew he was being overly cautious. She’d wanted to have dinner with him, and by the time they’d found a restaurant she’d been laughing and chatting, completely relaxed, giving all the signs that said, “I’m interested.”

Still, he was careful. When he steered the conversation into recent movie releases, though, she admitted there was one she really wanted to see and, wouldn’t you know it, so did he. Or so he said. He suggested they go together. She said yes. And that was that.

Reese hadn’t had a girlfriend since high school. There wasn’t any reason to, not when plenty of college girls were happy to hook up for a night. If he could get sex without the dangers of a romantic relationship, then he would. Because romantic relationships were, indeed, dangerous for a werewolf. Too many secrets to keep.

After three dates with Daniella, though, he’d decided he could make an exception. Sex was still off the menu—he wasn’t pressuring a girl who’d nearly been raped—but that didn’t stop him from wanting to see her as often as he could, which was as sure a sign as any that this was different.

Daniella was different, too. When he’d first met her, he’d thought she was sweet and shy. He liked that in a girl—or his werewolf instincts did. Someone gentle and delicate, someone he could take care of and protect. And she
was
sweet and shy, but as he’d seen the night of the attack, there also was strength there. An iron will hid behind her delicate exterior. Passion, too. When they kissed, she always started slow and tentative, but it didn’t take long to get her motor running.

Delicate and innocent on the outside, tough and hot-blooded on the inside. That fascinated him. Excited the hell out of him, too. Wherever this relationship was going, he planned to follow.

They’d been dating for a month when a long weekend meant trips home for both of them. Daniella’s family lived near Sydney, so he saw her off on the plane Thursday night, then made the drive home himself right after his Friday morning class.

Before Daniella left, she’d told him how much she’d miss him, how much she wished she could stay. He’d felt kind of guilty at that. Though he’d miss her, too, he was looking forward to going home.

Home was the outback. Home was endless, empty expanses of red desert and scrub brush. Home was the smell of diesel and wet sheep, the whoosh of the windmill and the whine of the wind. It was his dogs, racing up the dirt road when they heard his truck coming. It was his mother, waiting on the porch with a cold beer and a hot meat pie. It was his dad, ambling in from the barn, his weathered face lit up in a smile. For the next two days they wouldn’t do much of anything, just hang out together, talking, then he and his father going for runs at night, his mother coming along, staying in the truck with picnic baskets of food for an American-style tailgate party afterward.

His home life was damned near perfect. A helluva lot better than Daniella’s, as he realized during their calls that weekend. By Saturday night her parents were driving her nuts. More than that, she seemed depressed, which worried him. He told himself she just wanted to get back to school—and maybe back to him—but he couldn’t help wondering if there was more to it.

His werewolf streak of possessiveness kept nudging him toward one conclusion: she had a guy back home, a boyfriend she’d broken up with to go to college, and now she was reconsidering that decision. He told himself he was overreacting, but when her
plane landed, he was there waiting for her with a single red rose.

When she came out, she walked with her gaze down, letting the other passengers elbow and jostle past her, not even seeming to notice. Her hair was pulled back in a tidy ponytail, but it didn’t gleam the way it usually did. Her oversized campus sweatshirt seemed to envelop her tiny frame, weighing her down as she trudged along.