Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Regan watched Declan’s eyes open, the shining silver wolf pupils locking on her immediately. He blinked—an almost imperceptible action—and the dark, turbulent grey of his human eyes gazed up at her.
“You’re still here.”
The soft surprise in his voice made Regan smile. “Where else would I be?”
A wry grin stretched Declan’s lips. “Oh, I don’t know.” He repositioned himself so his feet were planted on the floor and his elbows rested on his knees. “Mars, maybe.”
“As far away from you, you mean?”
His grin grew wider and he dropped his head a little.
The slight tilt and twist in his torso told Regan he was inspecting the wound in his side, a wound she had watched, in stunned amazement, re-knit and heal completely while he was unconscious—an agonizing twenty minutes and fifty-four seconds.
“It’s gone,” she said from her crouching position before him, the joints of her knees aching like mad.
She hadn’t moved since he’d gained a fleeting consciousness, some twelve minutes ago, the name Maggie a hoarse cry bursting from his lips, his eyes the wolf’s eyes—wild, savage and haunted.
Declan lifted his head. “Took a bit longer than normal, this time.”
Regan frowned. “This time?”
He snorted. “The life of a werewolf isn’t all getting massages from beautiful naked women on their sofas, love.”
His answer made her cheeks fill with heat. Fair Dinkum, that innocent moment felt like a lifetime ago. Everything in her world was different now. Thanks to the man before her. A man who had taken her to sexual bliss and back. A man more strange and mysterious than she’d ever met. “Who’s Maggie?”
Her own question took Regan by surprise, as did the tight knot of jealousy in her stomach as the name passed her lips. Declan’s eyes widened and every muscle in his body tensed. “Why?”
“You called out her name. While you were unconscious. A few times, actually. Along with ‘get your fucking hands off her, you bastard’.”
For a long moment it didn’t seem as though he was going to answer.
Just like he’d avoided answering her repeated question of how he escaped McCoy as they broke into their current “hideout”.
It seemed secrets and her abductor were close mates, and her chest grew heavy at the thought.
But then he pulled in a long breath and let out an even longer sigh, something very much like anguish etching deep lines alongside his nose and mouth.
“Maggie was my baby sister. Three years younger than me and the most innocent pup in our clan. She fell hard for a beta wolf in a rival clan and, before I could stop her, she left ours. The laws of our kind are very simple—you forsake one clan for another, you may never return. Loyalty is not just a creation of poets and artists for canines and, despite the genetic differences, werewolves still are a member of the canis genus. Just a more…advanced one.”
Regan frowned again, the dull ache in her knees forgotten. “Why did you want to stop her?”
The haunted light she’d seen in his eyes before flared once again and a tense stillness seem to invade his muscles. “McCoy was the wolf she fell for. McCoy is Epoc’s main beta.”
Regan’s mouth went dry and her heart gave a hard thump. She didn’t need to ask why he’d wanted his sister not to go, not after coming face to face with the Scottish werewolf herself. “Why couldn’t you stop her?”
Long silence followed her whispered question.
And then, in a voice devoid of emotion: “I was identified as a threat to our Alpha before I reached maturity. Despite the arguments of the rest of the clan, I was expelled. Our Alpha was growing long in the tooth and he knew his dominance would not last much longer. An immature male Alpha may not challenge a clan’s leader.
The penalty is death for those that do so, but an Alpha may initiate a physical reprimand if they see fit.
Our Alpha created an excuse to engage me in a confrontation he and I both knew I would win.
My impertinence was punished and my expulsion ordered.
Once I was no longer a member of the Onchú clan I was powerless to prevent Maggie from doing anything.
And powerless to protect her.” A very menacing, very low growl rumbled in his chest and he stared over her shoulder, eyes more haunted than ever.
“There is nothing romantic about being a ‘lone wolf’, Regan, no matter what Hollywood tells you.”
Regan swallowed. She knew what Declan was inferring.
The Canidae family of carnivorous mammals were pack animals, social order and connection meant everything to them.
How it differed for werewolves, she had no idea, but the look of loss and torment on Declan’s face told her it wasn’t by much.
And why would it be? Even humans craved family and a sense of social belonging.
For a creature both canine and homo sapien, it must be an instinctual, emotional need deeper than anything she hoped to understand.
She thought of Peter, and how broken she would be if denied contact with him.
Snakes in the bed aside, he was a brilliant brother.
Caring, thoughtful and protective. How would she cope if she knew he was in danger?
Probably the same way he’s coping now.
A chill rippled up her spine at the thought. She knew her brother well. God help anyone who got in his road trying to save her.
“When did you last see Maggie?” she asked softly.
Declan scrubbed his palms up and down his face, as if trying to erase the pain deeply etched there. “Two years ago. The night of her murder. I’ve been hunting her killer since.”
Bile coated Regan’s throat. “McCoy?”
Fierce rage turned Declan’s face to granite. “By Epoc’s direct order.”
Regan stared at him, fear and sorrow and anger twisting her heart. “Why? Why did they kill her?”
“Epoc hates the Onchú clan. He has spent centuries destroying almost every Onchú on the planet.” He gave her a black smile, eyes chips of grey ice. “I’m the last.”
“I don’t get it. If Epoc’s a werewolf too, why does he hate…?”
“Centuries ago his lifemate was butchered in their bed by my clan, decades before Maggie and I were born.” Another look passed across his unforgiving features—Contempt.
“The Onchú are not the most noble clan in the world, but the Eudeyrn are the cruelest. The Onchú and the Eudeyrn have been warring clans since time began but it all came to a head that terrible night. They attacked Epoc’s home while he was out on a hunt.
Their target was Epoc himself. He’d hit my clan in an unprovoked attack a month earlier, killing the youngest male pups as they played in our territory, literally tearing them limb from limb.
The then Alpha of my clan wanted Epoc’s blood.
And his head. He ordered an assault on Epoc’s home.
Unfortunately, Aine was killed defending her own pups.
Epoc swore revenge. And he’s spent the last two centuries extracting it. ”
The chilling pun was not lost on Regan. She’d seen Epoc’s lab.
Knew of the experiments he performed within.
She pulled in a steadying breath, her body so tense she felt ready to snap.
She saw Declan didn’t want to say anymore, everything about him screamed the subject was over but she needed to know one more thing.
She was inescapably caught up in it now.
“So, the history between you and Epoc you spoke of earlier…”
His lips twisted into a bitter grin. “Our clans, Maggie and my bloodline. I am the direct, male descendant of the werewolf that killed Aine. The werewolf that killed Epoc’s lifemate.”
He watched her eyes. Waiting for her reaction.
Her judgment. Fire burned through him, the wound in his side—now totally healed on the surface—a cancerous poison sending out wave after burning wave of pain.
But he kept it from Regan. She didn’t need to know.
What she’d just heard was enough for one day.
Shit, for a human ignorant of his world and his kind until but a few hours ago, it was enough for one lifetime.
Telling her his wound was not healing as it should would only make her worry.
Clear green eyes gazed at him, their color like bhoireann spring moss. Every emotion Regan felt shone in their mesmerizing depths—sorrow, concern, anger, fear.
His throat grew tight. Fear. But of what? Epoc? McCoy?
Him?
He wanted to reach for her. Wanted to fold his arms around her slim, warm body and hold her close, his face pressed to her hair, their hearts beating as one. Instead he stayed still, elbows on his knees, side an inferno of red pain. Watching her eyes.
He didn’t know what his future held. But he knew—for the next few days at least, until he’d dealt with Epoc and his mongrel, McCoy—he could never leave her. She was now his world as much as Maggie had been. He’d burn in Hell before he let anything happen to her.
Didn’t you say that about Maggie, Dec?
Yeah. Yeah, he had.
“My father was a farmer,” Regan said suddenly, holding his gaze with her own.
The statement was unexpected and Declan blinked.
A soft smile flittered over Regan’s lips at his reaction but she continued, never changing her position.
“His father before that, and his father’s father.
Our land was in our blood. When the drought of ’eighty-three hit we lost the majority of our stock and crops.
Do you know what it’s like to watch animals starve to death?
To go out every morning with a .44, knowing you will be putting a bullet between the eyes of at least five dying animals? ”