Chapter Ten
Onyx snuggled closer to the warm blanket, grateful to whoever had thrown it over her. Her front was toasty, but her back was chilled. She must have kicked the covering off at some point. She reached to tug it over her and it…growled.
Her fuzzy brain cleared in a heartbeat. Bolting upright, she shoved strands of hair out of her face and peered down into the calm dark eyes of a massive black wolf. It was easily twice the size of a normal werewolf. It was a wonder the bed hadn’t collapsed beneath its weight.
“Dagen?” She’d never seen him in his wolf form before, their paths crossing mostly in crowded cities. There’d been a couple of glimpses, but they’d been so fleeting as to be practically nonexistent. She’d honestly wondered if she’d imagined them, the illusion brought on by her desperate need to see his other form.
It was better than anything she’d ever imagined.
She tentatively reached out and ran her hand over his muzzle. His mouth opened, exposing giant teeth that could rip a person apart. His tongue swiped over her fingers, surprising a laugh from her. “You’re even bigger than I imagined.” If a wolf could grin, this one did.
Coming up beside him on her knees, she took in his magnificence. His fur was entirely black, except for the white marking of the sickle in the center of his chest. She reached out to touch it and paused, gauging his reaction. When he didn’t object, she pressed her palm over it.
Was it her imagination or was it hotter than the rest of him? Did he feel it, too?
When his legs twitched, she yanked her hand away, not wanting to upset him. While the wolf and man were part of each other, they were separate entities. In this form, the wolf would be dominant to the man.
Maybe. She wasn’t entirely sure how it all worked, but it was better to err on the side of caution.
Unable to resist the lure, she stroked his back and sides, marveling at the rippling muscles beneath the thick fur. The creature groaned and turned his head to watch as she worked her way down to his tail. His fur was softer than she’d imagined, not silky but not coarse. The sensation was marvelous against her skin.
She pulled away and sat back on her heels, suddenly conscious of how long she’d been petting him. This wasn’t a tame wolf or someone’s pet. This was a dangerous, wild creature.
Fisting her hands in her lap, she cleared her throat. “Sorry about that. It’s just that I’ve always wondered what you looked like. As a wolf, I mean. I’ve seen you as a man.” When the wolf grin grew wider, she groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Ignore me, I’m not awake yet.”
“I didn’t mind.”
Jerking her head up, she stared at the man sprawled beside her. The very naked man. He reached over and used the edge of his finger to close her mouth, which had dropped open.
“How? I mean, that was fast.” Pretty much instantaneous. “The mattress didn’t even move.” There were none of the contortions she’d witnessed when watching other werewolves.
“You really are the lone wolf.” She’d said it before, believed it, too, but this put the seal on any lingering doubt. “If there’d only been one, it would have been you.”
With a growl—that could have been agreement or not—he rolled off the bed, grabbed his jeans, and slid them on. She admired the firm, full cheeks of his ass before he covered them. Giving herself a shake, she had her gaze pulled upward by the time he turned around.
“You hungry?” he asked, obviously done with discussing her theory that he was the true lone wolf, the one that would have been chosen if there’d been only one. He raked a hand through his tousled hair. His biceps flexed. The muscles in his chest rippled, fixing her attention on the tattoo that rested there. It was a stark reminder of the task that lay ahead of them. They were partners, not lovers, not any longer. “Onyx?”
“Ah, yes, starving actually.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. Things had been chaotic.
“Bathroom is through there.” He pointed the way before sauntering out of the room.
Like a love-starved ninny, she’d sat on the bed watching him leave. Get your head back in the game. With no phone, she had no idea of the time, how long she’d slept. She wasn’t even sure what day of the week it was. Not that it mattered. Wasn’t like she had a job or anyone waiting for her—besides Dagen. Settling in one spot had never been an option.
After using the bathroom, dealing with the mess of her hair, and splashing water on her face, she joined him in the kitchen. She’d give anything for a hot shower and clean clothes, but as the saying went, beggars couldn’t be choosers. They’d left the safehouse so fast, she’d forgotten to ask about the clothes he’d put in the washer. She was grateful to be alive, in one piece, and relatively safe.
Dagen was a wild card. While he was willing to work with her now, that could change.
In bare feet and wearing only jeans, he stood at the stove with a towel slung over one shoulder and a spatula in his hand. It was normal, something a man might do on any given morning. She’d never pictured him as domestic, but someone had to feed him and clean the place. There was no way he’d ever trust anyone in his private domain.
He trusted me.
Because he had no choice. She ruthlessly squashed the small pleasure before it took root. There was a fifty-fifty chance he’d kill her when this was over if they both survived the battle with Solange and Charles. She knew where he lived. That made her a threat. And unlike the other lone wolves, he wouldn’t likely change his tune and mate her.
A roar of despair echoed in her brain, but not one outward sign escaped. She’d get through this with her dignity intact if it killed her. And it might. A vast emptiness yawned inside her. The ache in her chest almost doubled her over. Stop wishing for things you can’t have and work with what is. It was the mantra she’d repeated over and over the first fifteen years of her existence. It was what had allowed her to survive and eventually escape.
“Pancakes are almost done.” He motioned to the coffeepot on the counter. “Help yourself.”
With a deep breath to center her, she set her bag on the counter and did as he suggested. Once she had coffee, she took a seat. He cooked with the same grace and competence with which he did everything else, flipping pancakes with ease. There was no box of mix on the counter. Had he made them from scratch?
She’d offer to help but doubted he’d accept it. She wasn’t great in the kitchen, anyway; there’d never been an opportunity to learn. Street food, takeout, and basics like cereal, canned soup, and sandwiches were her speed.
Another deficiency to lay at Solange’s feet. If she were ever free, she’d teach herself how to cook, but more especially how to bake. She was addicted to competition baking shows. When she’d lived in Europe, she’d haunted the bakeries, trying delicacies of every kind. It was a dream, but one that had given her something to hope for beyond the life forced on her.
“You’re quiet.” He set a plate piled with pancakes in front of her.
She shrugged and tugged the plate closer. “Not much to say.”
Keeping one eye on her, he pulled a bottle of maple syrup out of a cupboard and set it and the butter in front of her. Her stomach growled and she began to salivate. Ignoring him, she spread butter over the perfect golden circles before smothering them in the syrup. When the first mouthful hit her lips, she moaned.
She was aware of him sitting beside her, but didn’t look up until she’d taken the last bite. “That was delicious.” It was also the first meal anyone had voluntarily made for her. Conscious of the way she’d bolted down the food, she set her utensils on the empty plate. “I was hungry.” The defensiveness in her tone made her want to groan again for an entirely different reason.
She’d never felt so inept until she’d met him. He was stronger and faster, had contacts she didn’t, a home, and normal skills she could only marvel at. You’re alive , she reminded herself. Considering what she’d come from, that was a huge accomplishment.
“There’s bread for toast, if you’re still hungry.”
“Better see how that sits first.” She’d been hungry before but not in many years. While she wasn’t full, she didn’t want to risk making herself ill. “Should I apologize for my earlier outburst?” If he wasn’t going to bring it up, she would.
He took his last bite of pancake and shoved his plate aside. “No apology needed, but I’d like an explanation.”
Unable to sit under his watchful stare, she got up and began to pace. He swiveled around on his stool, leaned back, and settled his arms on the kitchen island behind him. He looked tastier than the pancakes.
Stop it! Giving herself a shake, she gave her attention to everything but him. “I haven’t seen Solange in a very long time. The shock of it—” She broke off and rubbed her solar plexus where her magic resided. “It set something off inside me.”
“We can’t afford mistakes.” So calm. So cool and collected. If she was prone to violence, she’d want to smack him.
“No one knows that better than I do. I’ve kept myself alive a long time by not making any. It’s not like I’m a lone wolf,” she tossed at him.
“No, you’re a mage.”
Unbelievable. Hands on her hips, she spun to face him. He hadn’t moved a muscle, but his hands were locked around the edge of the counter. To keep from reaching for her? More likely to keep from choking her.
“I might have been born with natural talent, but no one nurtured it.” She’d learned from a young age to hide what she was from Solange, innately understanding the other woman would feel threatened by her power. And threats were promptly eliminated. “I built shields to protect me. Any knowledge I gained was by trial and error.”
“You think it was any different for me? I lost everything. My family, my friends, my pack.” He stood and thumped his bare chest. “I had no idea what it meant to be the lone wolf. The urge to hunt, the relentless voice in my head that whispered unendingly until I gave in rather than go insane.”
“At least you were already a wolf.” They stood toe to toe, glaring at each other. “At least you had a family, a community.”
“What did you have?” The deadly murmur was scarier than if he’d roared. “Believe me, I’ve looked. It was as if you came into existence at fifteen.” He cupped her face between his thumb and forefinger and tilted it up. “Who are you, Onyx?”
…
No other person had ever gotten under his skin like she did. “Calm” and “decisive” were two words often used to describe him by clients and employees. Along with “dangerous,” but that was a given considering who and what he was.
Others had tried to bait him. He’d always found their attempts amusing. He damn well wasn’t amused now. Remembering how pale she’d been when she’d passed out, how lifeless her body, he fought the urge to coddle her, to tuck her back into his bed and take care of her. He needed answers.
The blood drained from her face, leaving her pale. “I’m no one.”
He rubbed his thumb over the curve of her bottom lip. “Why lie?” She was normally forthright or evasive, but she didn’t bother with an untruth. While he’d made a study of her over the years, there was so much that remained hidden.
Her breath caught in her throat but she didn’t pull away. “I’m not.”
Tilting his head to one side, he studied her. She wasn’t lying. She truly believed what she was saying. “How about you let me decide?”
She shook her head and started to turn away. He caught her by the shoulders. “Stop running.”
“I can’t.” Her despair almost broke his heart, but he hardened it.
“You’re afraid.”
Her nostrils flared, and a muscle beneath her eye twitched. “Of course, I’m afraid…of Solange.” The hesitation was brief, but he heard it.
“It’s not only her you’re afraid of.” He ran his hand over her hair, soothing her like he would any frightened creature. When her gaze tracked away from his, he stilled. “You’re afraid of me.”
“Can you blame me?” Giving a weary sigh, she took a step back, and he let her. “I’m in a tenuous situation. You have your wealth and network. I have you and my ability to run and hide. And I’m done hiding. I piss you off enough to give me the boot, I’ve got nothing.”
The stark reality of it hit like a body blow. “Is that why you had sex with me?” His voice was harsh, causing her to flinch.
“No, damn it. I don’t trade sex for safety.” Meaning it had likely been an offer she’d fended off in the past. A growl worked its way up his throat, but he forced it back. “I don’t appreciate the implication.”
He threw his hands into the air. “What the hell am I supposed to think after you tell me you’re afraid of me?” Now he was the one who wanted to pace. It took effort to hold his ground. What he really wanted to do was hunt down the men who’d suggested she pay for their protection with her body.
“Did I act afraid while we were in bed together?” Fire snapped in her dark eyes.
“No, and you’re not acting afraid now. Maybe you’re not. Maybe it’s a way to manipulate me.” He was going round and round in circles so much he was giving himself a headache, which, considering how fast he healed, took some doing.
Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back and sighed. “I’ve been afraid every second of my life. I live with it every damn day. I either learned to work with it and through it or allowed it to crush me.” She lowered her head, determination in the tilt of her chin. “And I’m still standing.”
Yes, yes, she was. Put a sword in her hand and place her in a mythical realm and she’d be a warrior queen. “Talk to me.” They were at a stalemate. “I brought you here,” he reminded her. “I’ve given ground.” Something he’d never done before. “I need honesty from you.”
“Or what?” Her defiant pose faded when she wrapped her arms around herself.
“We’re done.” His wolf howled inside him, making his displeasure clear. Ignoring the clutch in his chest, he crossed his arms to keep from reaching for her. Whatever she was holding back was important. Gut instinct warned that whatever it was could come back to bite him in the ass at a crucial moment.
She reared back as if he’d slapped her, almost stumbling before catching her balance. “You can’t mean that.”
Every cell in his body hardened in his effort to keep from reaching for her. “There are too many gaps, too many unknowns. That’s my price for help—truth.”
Harsh laughter fell from her lips. “I tell you the truth and you’ll kick me to the door. If you don’t kill me first.”
He unfolded his arms and prowled toward her. She backed up before standing her ground. “Unless you’ve betrayed me or the other wolves, you’re safe.”
“You say that now.” She shook her head and stared at her feet. “Promise me you’ll hear me out before you act.”
Fine trembles skated over her limbs. Her heartbeat was elevated, as was her breathing. A huge knot formed in his stomach. Whatever this was, it was big, and he wasn’t going to like it.
“Let’s sit down.” Taking her by the arm, he steered her toward the sofa. Her shaking had increased and the bitter stench of her fear stung his nostrils. Keeping her head down, she walked beside him and stiffly sat, hands clutched in her lap.
“Promise me.”
He swallowed hard, the reply briefly sticking in his throat. “I promise.”
She raised her head, her eyes bleak. “I have no idea who my father is. Some random human chosen for the express purpose of impregnating the woman who had me.”
Her words had been chosen carefully. He replayed them in his mind. “You don’t call her your mother.”
Onyx’s shoulders hunched a bit. Her knuckles turned white.
Dread pressed down on him like an anvil, threatening to crush him. “Who is your mother?”
She licked her lips. “The woman who bore me is…” She took a steadying breath. “Solange Dupree.”