The Werewolf’s Bride: The Pack Rules #1 (9 page)

H
E LAUGHED
AND
slapped the back of the chair. “Like I said, you are very astute. I bet you had me figured two seconds after I walked in the door. You see things that most people don’t. People don’t want to look, they’re afraid of what they might find. But not you. No, you look right into their very hearts.”

“God! Are you going to kill her or fuck her?” Sara popped to her feet. “I’m getting some air. Would you finish this shit so we can get back to the den? There’s a brawl later tonight, and I want in on it.” She stomped out of the cabin, slamming the door behind her.

“Hard to believe we’re related, isn’t it? Sara has her uses, though.” He stood up and began rolling up his sleeves. “I should’ve worn more appropriate apparel, but I came straight from the courthouse.”

“You’re a lawyer in Vegas,” I guessed.

“Defense attorney. I waste a lot of time getting Blood Pack members out of trouble. It’s not exactly glamorous, but I’m very well compensated.”

Rick’s admission confirmed we were near Las Vegas, so my theory about being somewhere on Mount Charleston was correct. It was the closest habitat with pine trees, the only area that would have rental cabins.

“You were right, Arabelle. I don’t care much for people. Or werewolves, for that matter. But I do love money, and I love what it can buy. And I really love all the power that comes with wealth.” He picked up the folding chair and planted it in front of the cold hearth. He considered its location and spent a few seconds adjusting its position. Satisfied, he turned to me. “Before we begin, I think it’s only fair you should know why this is happening. We don’t have a lot of time, so it’s going to be the short version.

“A few weeks ago, Cody disappeared. Karen—who is not known for having a cool head—responded by sending some of our best brawlers to track and retrieve her mate. They returned bloody, broken, and mate-less. They reported that rogues had kidnapped poor Cody.” He sighed. “I swear she’s a better alpha than it appears in this gruesome little tale, but the woman lost all sense of perspective when it came to her mate. Cody was good at keeping Karen in check.”

“Who kidnapped Cody?”

“Rogues, Arabelle. Werewolves interested in bringing down the Shadow Pack. Grey has made some significant enemies—good leaders always do.”

“These rogues took Cody, but tried to put the blame on the Shadow Pack?” I shook my head. “There’s more, isn’t there? Something you’re not saying.” My nerves were showing. I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking, nor could I stop contemplating that empty chair.

Rick grinned. “You like puzzles, don’t you, Arabelle?”

“If rogue werewolves kidnapped Cody, why was he in Bleed City?”

“Because that’s where they were. In Bleed City. Cody escaped. He was starving, half-mad from being tortured, and he found the quickest, least resistant source of food.”

Mr. Sanders.
The dear old man didn’t have a chance against the werewolf.

“Grey’s enforcers are extremely efficient, aren’t they? Cody gets free, shifts, and takes off. He’s tracked immediately. Only you get there first and take care of the problem.”

Rick stared at me, his expression patient, his gaze challenging. Puzzles, he’d said. He wanted me to figure something out. Cody was in Bleed City. Before the Choosing. He’d been taken, tormented.

Mac had given me to the Blood Pack as penance. Rick was going to take my life the way Cody’s was taken.

The betas were taking actions.

Betas.

“You,” I said. “This whole thing is about you.”

“Brava!” He clapped. “Here’s the problem with being a beta, Arabelle. It’s not as powerful as being the alpha. Karen’s tough, but she’s a goddamned mess. Cody made her strong, gave her purpose. They were a good team. And yet, they were content to leave the Blood Pack in the dark ages to be muscle-heads and bruisers. They had no vision.”

“But you do.”

“Yes.”

I tried to put the pieces together. “You and Mac took Cody.”

Rick sighed. “Tsk. Tsk. That’s too obvious. Mac is doing what a good beta does … protecting the alpha. He’s old-school.
Quid pro quo.
A mate for a mate.”

I wondered how Grey would feel about that. Would he agree with Mac’s bold move? How would Mac explain that I’d killed an alpha’s mate and not a scruffer? It chilled me to think that I was somehow a chosen sacrifice.
Chosen by the alpha.
I was made Grey’s official mate—and then locked up on the pretense of being a murder suspect. I was put far away from the pack, away from anyone else who’d know me or help me. Then I was kidnapped and handed over to the Blood Pack. But if Grey knew, if this was his plot, why did Mac feel it necessary to knock him out? So that Grey would not be culpable for the loss of his mate? Or was it because Mac didn’t want Grey to interfere?

“Fine,” I said. “You took Cody. You wanted the Shadow Pack to be blamed for his kidnapping. You wanted him to be killed by an enforcer. You wanted…”
Oh, sweet mercy.
“You want war between the packs.”

“Excellent! War between the packs. A good old-fashioned shifter brawl. When the smoke clears, the Blood Pack will have a new place—at the top.”

“Is that why you killed the Shadow Pack enforcer at the Choosing?”

Rick shook his head. “That was someone else’s collateral damage. And your misfortune to stumble over it. You have an uncanny ability to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He leaned down and patted the metal chair. “Come sit down. Take your medicine.”

If he thought I was walking over there and sitting pretty-as-you-please while he pummeled me, he had another think coming.

“Arabelle. Do not be difficult. I’ve had a long day, and my patience is wearing thin. I’ve enjoyed our chat, but we’re on a time table. Your badly beaten corpse must be found in Bleed City by dawn.”

His words put the fear of God right into me. My mind raced, thoughts tumbling, as I sought a way out of this mess, but nothing came to mind. How I wished for a flash of insight that would allow me to turn the tables. I could try to fight, but Rick was not a damaged, starved wolf. He was a werewolf at full strength—he had brawn and brains.

This whole time, he’d been playing with me—a cat who had caught a mouse, batting it around before breaking its little neck. I saw the predatory look in his eyes, the way his gaze tracked me. He took a casual stance, but it was pure theatre. He was ready to pounce. If I was foolish enough to run, he would have me pinned to floor within seconds.

I scooted to the edge of the bed. My bare feet pressed against the worn wood floor. I was still dressed in my blue silk pajamas, though they were filthy and had rips in several places.

After all that conversation, Rick’s polite, casual tone belied his cold intent. The silence seemed as pointed and wickedly sharp as a blade. The weight of it crushed me—and my heart tripped over in my chest.

He expected me to do something. Run. Fight. Scream. He was waiting for me to act. I had no doubts he’d planned how to counter each and every feat I might attempt. I was still his mouse. And he still had me pinned by the tail.
Bat. Bat. Bat.

So, I did the one thing he didn’t expect. I walked to the metal chair and sat as prim and proper as I’d been raised. I folded my hands across my lap and bowed my head, as though I intended to utter my final prayers.

“I don’t know if I’m disappointed or impressed by your acceptance,” said Rick.

I muttered a response.

“What?” he asked. He leaned down. “Last words, Arabelle?”

I reared up. My head slammed into his jaw with so much force my ears rang hollow, yet I still heard his teeth click together from the sudden impact. Pain jagged down my skull into my neck. I ignored it. My focus was on Rick. He stumbled backwards, flailing and disoriented. I whirled and grabbed the chair, swinging it with adrenaline-spiked fury.

He raised his arms, but not fast enough to prevent the full brunt of the hit. He whipped sideways, into the rickety coffee table, smashing it to pieces as he landed on top of it. His face was bloody, his expression furious. He snapped and snarled, and began to shift. Fur sprouted on his face, his snout lengthened, and his jaw widened and cracked as his sharp, bloodied teeth emerged.

I lifted the chair and brought it down on his head. My strength was nearly spent, but I smacked him hard enough that he yelped and tried to scuttle back. While his attention was on the walloping I just gave his wolf face, I stepped between his legs and brought my foot down his family jewels.

He yowled.

“What the fuck!” Sara stood in the doorway, her shocked expression going from the prone half-wolf to me. “Oh, that’s it, you bitch. I’m fucking killing you.”

She took a step toward me, murder in her eyes.

Then she went flying forward. She rolled to her back, but before she could get up, Colt was beside her, his booted foot on her neck, his sword point digging into her chest. “Give me a reason, sweetheart.”

Her expression was filled with rage, but she went utterly still.

“Arabelle!” Grey strode in, all gorgeous fury, followed by a man the size of a linebacker. He wore his dark brown hair in a braid that went past his rear end, and he sported the same furious expression I associated with Neela. I could only assume this was the infamous and cold-hearted Kelt. Some very big wolves trotted in and began sniffing around, while Kelt joined Colt, his gaze pinned to Sara.

Grey headed toward me, stopping only long enough to kick Rick in the side of the head. There was a sharp crack and his neck bent at awkward angle. The Blood Pack beta went limp, his eyes wide in a sightless stare.

I wasn’t sorry to see him dead.

Grey gathered me into his arms. “I thought I was too late.”

“M-Mac gave me to them.”

“I know.” He kissed me—my lips, my cheeks, my forehead, and my lips again. “He’s been dealt with.”

“They said I killed the Blood Pack’s mate. Did I?”

“Yes,” said Grey. “I didn’t know.” He cupped my face. His gaze searched mine. I saw his relief. I saw his concern. I saw his sincerity. I let go of my doubts about him, my worries that I had been, quite literally, tossed to the wolves at his behest. His thumb swept over my cheek, and he smiled. “Arabelle, please be aware that it’s extremely difficult to charge in and save you—when you keep saving yourself.”

“Yes, I can see how bothersome that might be.” I melted into his embrace and cried.

“It’s okay, babe. It’s okay.” He swept me up and cradled me close, while I sniffled into his designer shirt. He took me to an idling car and slid into the backseat. He refused to let me go, so I curled up onto his lap.

“We’re going to Las Vegas—to the Drift Resort,” he told the driver. “My mate needs rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

The car took off, and as we wound down the mountains, I finally felt safe. The tears stopped and I let myself be comforted by Grey’s steady heartbeat and secure embrace.

Grey nuzzled my cheek. “The Drift Resort is a shifter property, and we have a private suite there. You’ll be able to eat and sleep—for as long as you want.”

“What about jail?”

“The
pro tem
enforcer leader re-examined the evidence and re-interviewed the witness. He decided there wasn’t enough proof to impute you for murder.”

“Kelt,” I said. “Neela’s father. He freed me?”

“Yes. He trains the enforcers, and he prefers that to leading them. He’s not interested in continuing in the role, but will stay until we find a replacement.”

“Neela isn’t getting her job back?”

“She did a piss-poor job of it, and she lets her emotions rule her actions.”

“She’s in love with you.”

“She thinks she’s is,” said Grey. “But she wouldn’t know love if it bit her on the ass. She’ll be taking a sabbatical. I’m sending her to the Earth Pack to find some goddamned Zen.”

I laughed. “Oh, Grey.” I kissed him.

He kissed me.

And we did that for a while, and it was very, very nice.

Finally, Grey pulled back. “We’ll be at the resort soon enough, sweetheart.” He had wolf eyes, filled with need, the same need that ached within me. “I want you so much. It’s like you’ve cast a spell on me.”

“I have no magic,” I said.

He leaned forward, as if to kiss me again, but I put a finger to his lips. “Tell me about Mac.”

He sighed, but settled back. “Mac was approached by the Blood Pack’s asshole beta. He said if the Shadows handed you over for penance, the Bloods wouldn’t start a pack feud.”

“Isn’t that something he should’ve discussed with you?” I asked.

“Yeah. But he seemed to think I wasn’t capable of making a clear-headed decision since I seemed too enamored of your charms.”

“He overstepped.”

“He wasn’t wrong,” admitted Grey. “I wouldn’t have handed you over.”

“It was an impetuous action,” I said. “Kidnapping me, I mean. He seemed more level-headed than that.”

“I used to think so. But after admitting what he did and why, he clammed up. Now he’s sitting in a prison cell—the worst one I could find with only a cot and piss pot, which is more than he deserves.”

I wondered. Rick was the puppeteer. And he had lots of puppets dancing on strings. He’d facilitated the kidnapping of Cody, so that Karen would have a meltdown. She’d been so focused on finding her mate that she wasn’t paying attention to her beta or to her pack. Rick also manipulated Mac, somehow, into handing me over to pay for Cody’s death. I wasn’t sure it was as simple as Mac would have Grey believe. It felt like Mac was still protecting Grey. Or maybe the beta was only protecting himself—and here I was trying to reconcile his betrayal into something more complicated than it actually was. Hmm. While I’d only had the displeasure of knowing Rick for a mere hour, I felt I understood him, at least a little. He seemed very enamored of pulling
my
strings, inviting me into a conversation designed to showcase his cleverness and stroke his ego.

And there was something … something Rick had said that niggled at me. I closed my eyes and sifted through the conversation, stopping when I replayed the part about Cody’s kidnapping.
Grey’s enforcers are extremely efficient, aren’t they? Cody gets free, shifts, and takes off. He’s tracked immediately.