Chapter Seven #2
Marcus tugged at the collar of his shirt. He turned his face toward me, his unexpected glare leaving me speechless. “Where were you today?” he asked, his voice a low, demanding rumble. I was still trying to figure out why he seemed upset when he repeated, “Where. Were—”
“I don’t think that’s what’s important right now, Blackwood.”
“It’s the only thing important right now, Joanna.” I tried ignoring the earnestness in his voice but found my pulse still racing. “I don’t need to heal. The blood isn’t mine.”
“So, you’re not hurt?”
He answered with a slow shake of his head as he stalked toward me.
My brows furrowed. “Then why—”
“Where were you?”
I forced out a laugh and drew in a long breath to hurl a slew of obscenities at him and his audacity, but then I paused. The scent radiating from his skin explained his bloodshot eyes and why he looked like he’d fall over any moment. “You’re drunk.”
My observation prompted another shake of his head. This time, a slight tick in his jaw accompanied the gesture.
I threw my arms into the air. “You get wasted, and your first thought was to come here?”
He massaged his temples. “I’m not drunk, Joanna.”
“Hey, Vox,” I called out to the smart device set up in my apartment. “Call Maya.” I brushed past Marcus and made my way to the nearest intercom.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
The call connected almost immediately. “Joey,” Maya’s worried voice filled the room. “Is he with you?”
My eyes narrowed. “Your alpha showed up at my door in the middle of the night smelling like booze and looking like shit. Maybe you can tell me what the hell is going on?”
Maya sighed. “May I speak with him?”
I turned, meeting Marcus’s scorching gaze. “You’re on speaker.”
“Alpha, are you alright?”
He grunted. “I’m fine, Maya. I’d be even better if Joanna told me where she’d been all day.”
“Jerome and I have been trying to reach you,” Maya continued. “We heard what happened at the club. We were setting out to go look for you.”
Maya’s words sucked all the air from the room.
“You were at Club Luna?” I breathed.
The Alpha didn’t respond. He stared at me without so much as a blink until Maya’s firm voice echoed through the room.
“Alpha, I’m coming to get you.”
My head whipped toward the intercom. “He’s fine here,” I objected.
“But—”
“I’ll make sure he’s back at the compound early in the morning. Thanks, Maya. Vox, hang up.”
I didn’t hear the last of what Maya had to say before the call ended. Even if she had gotten her words out, I doubt I would’ve paid them any attention. My irritation had already morphed into stifling concern.
“Sit,” I ordered, charging forward to drag Marcus to the couch by his arm.
To my surprise, he didn’t resist. I pushed him onto the leather and sat beside him, checking his shirt for any rips or tears and sighing in relief when I found none.
He really was okay… but why did I feel this fucking relieved?
I straightened my shoulders that’d dropped in reprieve.
“Why couldn’t you just tell me you were at the club, asshole?”
I caught Marcus’s fleeting smirk, but then he let out a harsh breath. “All day something felt off.” His eyes bore into me, sharp enough to sting. “I thought you were in trouble.”
“I texted you that I was okay.” What good would come from telling Marcus the whole truth prematurely?
I had more questions than I had answers…
not to mention an intoxicated alpha werewolf in my living room as a bonus.
“I was with James,” I added, using basic hunter techniques to keep my heartbeat steady. “We went dark to avoid distractions.”
Marcus’s eyes softened. He allowed himself to sink into the couch. “We’re in the middle of a war, Joanna. That’s no longer an option for either of you.”
Marcus took his time as he explained what Maya learned from an alpha named Garreth. Most of it checked out with the information me and James had received from the Bureau.
I pulled my robe tighter across my body after a chill ran up my spine. “…Do you think rogues have something to do with the attack on Club Luna?” I asked.
Marcus pressed both palms into his eyes before dragging his hands down his pale face. “I wouldn’t put it past them. The only werewolves still attending the club were the ones who refused the uprising, or the ones ignorant of the whole thing. So, it could’ve been a warning.”
My frown deepened. “That you’re either with them or against them.”
“…Or human, and therefore insignificant.”
I sighed. Everything Marcus said was plausible. And yet, I wasn’t sure if I believed it… or if I simply wanted to believe it. Killing humans to prove a point sounded right up the Bureau’s alley too.
Marcus suddenly sprang to his feet.
“Are you—”
He dashed for the bathroom, halting my question. I heard the toilet bowl lid hit the tank before Marcus emptied the contents of his stomach.
“But he’s not drunk,” I mumbled with a smug grin on my face as I followed him, stopping by the fridge for a bottle of water.
Second only to my bed, the bathroom was my favorite part of the loft.
Like the floor, the walls and the sink were made of smooth concrete.
The copper sink faucet matched the exposed piping that ran along the walls and ceiling.
The walk-in shower had both a handheld sprayer for a downpour to scrub away blood and death—and dual rain showerheads for when I needed to be caressed.
And finally, my clawfoot tub, to drown my fucking tears before they drowned me first.
It was a strange sight, seeing the powerful alpha werewolf on his knees, hunched over my toilet. He was gripping the sides of the bowl so tight I feared it would shatter in his hands.
I sat beside him and handed him the bottle of water.
Marcus threw up once more before he spat into the bowl. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his head still hanging over the toilet seat in defeat. “It seems I interrupted something,” he uttered under his breath, causing me to glance at the tub.
He fumbled for the flush lever and sent the proof of his vulnerability down the drain. The nail of his index finger shifted into a sharp claw. With a flick, the top half of the bottle cap flew off, landing mere inches from where my hand rested on the floor.
Marcus raised his head, drinking the entire bottle of water in a single breath. Once he removed the empty bottle from his lips, he took a couple deep breaths before hesitantly resting a hand on my knee. “How long were you going to pretend you didn’t know?” he finally asked.
“That you were stalking me?” I demanded, swatting the bottle top away. “I was wondering if you’d have the balls to bring it up.”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “I was making sure you were safe,” he grumbled. “And I won’t apologize for that.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but his thumb grazed the bit of skin that peeked through the opening of my robe, and like an idiot, I lost all my words. The warmth of his touch slid to the pit of my stomach, pooling in my core.
“I am sorry for not being sorry… and for knowing that if given the chance, I’d do it again.” Those amber eyes focused on my parted lips. “I can’t help it.” His rough voice rang with a determination that was sure as death. “We’re bound to each other, Joanna.”
◆◆◆
I traced the fading scar bisecting my palm with my finger. Even with the help of Marcus’s healer, the cut still itched for days. It was as if my hunter’s mark knew werewolf blood fed the other half of the pact… and wanted to punish me for it.
I lowered my hand beneath the bubbles in my bath, hiding the stain of self-betrayal.
I’d convinced myself that making the blood pact with the Alpha was the right thing to do—I needed Marcus’s pack to trust me.
And unless they considered me an ally, they would’ve never agreed to help me save innocent human lives.
Hell, to be honest, it took me getting mauled trying to save one of their lives during the ceremony for some of Marcus’s shifters to even forgo their fears of my having ulterior motives.
But now, Marcus and I were bound to each other with a promise to, “Stand together. Fight together. Fall together.” That apparently meant he would invade my privacy under the guise of protecting me, and I would make deals with sketchy government agencies that promised to keep him safe.
I closed my eyes, inhaling the calming fragrance from the lavender candles in the recessed wall niche.
Breathe, Joanna, I begged.
I could challenge creatures thrice my size, have them threaten to do depraved things to me while both alive and dead, slit their throats, watch the life fade from their eyes, and be fine.
But caring for a werewolf—correction, two fucking werewolves if I included Latoya—could break me if I wasn’t careful.
My only comfort in the self-torment was the thought that Marcus was battling his own demons.
He insisted I take my bath and assured me he was well enough to stand for a shower.
But before I closed my eyes, I saw him standing motionless with his head against the wall, water cascading down his muscular back and cresting over his firm ass.
I sank lower into the tub, wanting to dunk my head in shame but having second thoughts about getting my hair wet at this hour of the night.
It was ridiculous.
I wanted to laugh.
I wanted to cry.
I wanted to be railed by an alpha who spent an entire day worrying about me.
My eyes snapped open at the sudden silence.
Marcus pushed on the tempered glass and stepped out of the shower. The man was an Adonis. Even the scars across his skin did nothing to mar the pillar of perfection standing before me.
“What did you need?” he asked out of the blue.
I sat up in the tub. “Huh?” I replied, hating the shake in my voice.
Marcus raised an eyebrow as he approached me without a towel. “You didn’t call me a second ago?”
I shook my head while holding his gaze, instead of allowing mine to drop to the sizeable length that hung from the base of that delicious V-shaped muscle at his waist.