Chapter 13 – CAMILLE
CAMILLE
Iclose the door to my cabin and immediately start pacing, my mind racing through tonight’s events. This attack was reckless. They could have killed someone.
I need to catch them before that happens.
My hands move automatically, pulling out my phone to add notes while the details are fresh.
Seven missed calls and four unopened messages stop me in my tracks.
All Raven.
Giving into temptation, and full of self-loathing, I open them and immediately regret it.
Why aren’t you answering? I need to know you’re okay.
Cammy, I’m worried. You need to tell me what’s going on.
This case is too big. You need to stand down before you get hurt.
Call me back. Now.
With an aggravated groan, I type out a blunt response and toss the phone aside.
Busy.
Raven getting pissy because I’m focussing on the case, and not him for once, is not something I feel like dealing with right now.
I strip on my way to the bathroom, tossing clothes aside.
I remove my opal necklace and Raven’s chain from my pocket, setting them on the sink counter as I mentally review the pattern of the attacks and all the information Callum retrieved tonight about access to the training grounds, and the water bottles.
The incidents, the victims, the timing.
There’s something here, tickling the back of my brain, something I’m not seeing yet.
The water bottles were delivered to the competitors’ rooms in the packhouse.
They were in their possession all day. The CCTV at the training grounds shows nobody else near the drinks, and only immediate friends and family have access to the VIP floor.
The list is small, and the list of those with anything to gain from eliminating competitors is even smaller.
Dean has promised to pull any footage he has from outside their rooms. In the meantime, I need some quiet to gather my thoughts.
The shower runs hot as I step under the spray, trying to keep my mind focused on the investigation, until unbidden thoughts of Jax intrude.
Anger rises inside me, sharp and bitter, as old wounds I thought had healed rear their ugly heads.
The water mingles with tears I let flow freely here in the safety of my tiny bathroom, and I curse myself for letting Jax hurt me, but I suppose it was inevitable. There’s no way to escape a denied bond unscathed.
Jax can’t help being drawn to me, even if he has his reasons for not wanting to seal the bond.
Raven, on the other hand, well, he just likes having the best of both worlds. Me as his ‘work wife’ when we’re away on enforcer duties, and Jane as his doting, submissive mate when he’s home with our pack.
And I’m the idiot who lets him get away with it, who laps up the scraps of attention he tosses my way, hoping for what? Someday he'll realise his mistake?
I groan, closing my eyes and letting the water pour down over my face, hoping to wash away my stupidity.
Working solo, being away from him, has been great.
I need to do this more often. I feel more confident and self-assured.
Distance is helping me see him for what he is: selfish, knowing how hurt I was when he chose another, but still stringing me along.
It might also have something to do with meeting my mate, and my wolf deciding Raven is a poor substitute for the real thing, even if he came and grovelled for forgiveness.
And Jax certainly is the real thing, even if he’s determined to go against nature. But it’s not easy. His protectiveness shone through at the crime scene. He didn’t want me anywhere near it. I could feel his panic when he thought I might be hurt by the magic.
It’s frustrating and endearing all at the same time.
He is my perfect match, after all. It’s hardly surprising I still want him, no matter how mad I am. Fated mates are treasured in shifter culture. Finding yours is a precious gift, but one Jax seems keen to return.
As the steam rises around me, and I turn to tip my lathered hair under the spray, my thoughts drift to the lingering feel of Jax’s hands, his mouth, the way he pressed me against that tree and… no.
I should not be thinking about that.
But my traitorous mind replays it, anyway. The raw possessiveness in his voice. The way he snarled at Kain like a jealous mate. How his desire for me pressed long and hard against me as he caged me in.
The worst part?
I loved it. I wanted him to stop talking and just take what we both needed, until some semblance of common sense returned, and I remembered he just wanted to win some primitive pissing contest with another male.
Determined to get clean, to rid myself of any residual magic, and any trace of Jax’s divine scent, I scrub harder. By the time I step out, my skin is pink and raw, and I’m feeling more like myself again.
The towel is soft against my oversensitive skin as I pad to the bedroom. I should review my notes, but exhaustion weighs down my limbs, making thinking feel like swimming through molasses.
I’ll be sharper tomorrow after a few hours of sleep.
As I drop the towel and reach for my pajamas, movement outside catches my eye. There, in the shadows beyond my bedroom window, I see a pair of eyes glowing faintly in the darkness, watching. My heart pounds, but not from fear.
Jax, or should I say, his wolf.
Part of me wants to ignore him, to close the curtains and pretend I didn’t see. This back and forth between us is nothing but a distraction. But something in the way he sits there, silent in the darkness, makes me pause.
I dress quickly and head downstairs, pulling my thin dressing gown tightly around me, bare feet silent on the wooden floors. The night air is cool against my still-damp skin as I step onto the porch.
He’s there at the edge of the tree-line, massive, even for a shifted wolf, his thick grey fur blending with shadows. Only his eyes give him away, brazenly locked on me with an intensity that should frighten me. Yet somehow, he looks uncertain.
Then I notice the bundle at his feet. My scarf.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask, resting my elbows on the rough-hewn railing and observing his body language carefully. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear. If it’s not related to the case, I don’t care.”
The wolf doesn’t move, just watches me and waits. I should go back inside and maintain the boundaries I set so forcefully earlier. But something in the way he keeps his distance despite clearly wanting to be closer, makes me stay.
And as much as I like to work alone, sometimes, it is nice to have company.
“What have you got there?”
Taking my question as an invitation to come closer, he picks up the scarf gently in his jaws and approaches slowly, head hanging low. When he’s near enough, he sets it down on the bottom step and backs away.
My throat tightens. He’s trying to return what he took. The gesture cracks something in my chest.
“Damn it, Jax.” The words come out awkwardly as fat tears threaten to spill from my already puffy eyes.
I sink down onto the steps, pick up the scarf, and then bring it to my nose.
A pang of desperate longing blooms inside me as I breathe in our mingled scent.
He’s been keeping it close to him, his scent now buried deep in the fibres.
A soft whine escapes him when he sees my glistening eyes. He takes a tentative step toward me, and then another, when I don’t retreat. Another low whine. He’s close enough now that I could touch him if I reached out.
Close enough for me to feel the misery pouring off him.
Running the soft fabric through my fingers, I make a decision. I pat my knee. “Come here.”
He approaches cautiously until he’s right in front of me, his head level with mine now, even though I’m sitting. Purposefully avoiding looking into those expressive golden eyes, I reach up and carefully tie the scarf around his thick neck like a bandana, knotting it loosely, so it won’t bother him.
“There,” I whisper. “You keep it.”
Before I can second-guess myself, I wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face in his thick fur, and allow myself this moment of weakness, to lean into his quiet strength.
Jax goes completely still, not even breathing. Then slowly, carefully, he relaxes into the embrace. His massive head curves around to rest against my back, and we sit there like that for a long moment.
Just for now, I let myself feel safe, protected and wanted. Finally, I pull back, wiping at my eyes.
“You should get back to the packhouse. It’s late.”
As I stand to leave, he settles onto his haunches, not ready to go just yet.
He trots back to his spot in the treeline and settles into a more comfortable position that suggests, yes, he plans to stay right there.
The steel in his eyes tells me exactly what his wolf is doing.
Protecting his mate. And that just makes me sadder despite it being comforting to know he’s nearby.
Someone was almost killed tonight. I doubt they’d hesitate to come after me for investigating the case if they thought I was on to them.
“The final is only a couple of days away. We need to catch them fast.”
The wolf’s ears flick forward, listening. He barks, looking sharp and alert, and I swear, he’s telling me we’re going to get them. I really hope he’s right.
I turn to go back inside, then pause. “Jax?”
His ears perk up.
“What happened earlier... you can’t do that. It’s not fair. You know that, right?”
The wolf lowers his head and whines quietly.
“If you’re going to deny the bond, that’s one thing. But don’t toy with me.”
He whines again, soft and pained, and for a moment, I want to go to him again and bury my fingers in his fur, but things are too complicated already.
Instead, with an ache in my chest, I go back inside and lock the door behind me. Through the window, I can still see him there, a dark sentinel in the shadows.
When I finally crawl under the covers, exhausted, I know sleep will be elusive as I play over the day’s events and what we’ve learned.
The investigation materials on my desk catch moonlight through the window, taunting me, pages of notes and timeline charts to help me solve this case, yet I already know them inside and out. With time running out, it’s going to be hard to figure out who is tampering with the outcome.
It’s going to take something new to break this case wide open. But what?
I can’t let someone dying be the thing that finally brings us answers.