Dark Wolf Running (Bloodrunners) Read online

  She started to get up with their dishes, but he told her to relax and took them into the now vacated kitchen himself, determined to show her that he wasn’t one of those chauvinistic assholes who expected a woman to wait on him hand and foot. His mother, God bless her, had taught him from an early age how to treat a woman right. And while he usually kept his relationships so brief there wasn’t much of a chance to put what he’d learned to use, he was for damn sure going to use it now.

  Grabbing himself a fresh beer, he started to head back, when Carla came through the archway, setting her empty wineglass by the sink.

  Catching a glimpse of his partner’s expression, Wyatt knew exactly why she’d followed him into the kitchen. “Wow, is it already time for another lecture?” he drawled. “And here I thought you were starting to slack.”

  She grimaced, then sent him a contrite, kinda crooked smile. “I deserved that,” she murmured. “But I’m worried about you.”

  Taking a long swallow of his beer, he wiped the back of his wrist over his mouth. “Why?”

  She leaned against one of the counters and crossed her arms, then spoke in a quiet, troubled tone. “When a woman goes through something like what happened to Elise three years ago, it...sometimes breaks them, Pall. I know Elise is tough. Just be careful. If she doesn’t want to move on, to try to move past what happened, you can’t make her.”

  Voice so hard it was brittle, he said, “I would never do that. I’m not a fucking bully, Reyes.”

  Shaking her head, she said, “I know that, Pall. That’s not what I’m saying. You’re golden, okay? Just don’t let her break your heart, hoping for something that might never come.”

  He cut his gaze to the far side of the kitchen, his chest rising with a sharp breath as he gripped his beer bottle even tighter. “I’m not in love with her, Carla. I just want to help her.”

  Quietly, she asked, “You sure about that?”

  “You know me,” he muttered, bringing his shuttered gaze back to her worried one. “You know what I’m like. I care about her, but it’s nothing more than that.”

  Her head tilted a bit to the side as she studied him. “Because you won’t let it be?”

  “Because that’s the way it is,” he explained through his gritted teeth. “So drop it.”

  “Wyatt,” she murmured, “is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “Like what?” he asked, feeling hunted, as if she were determined to pull things out of him he was nowhere near ready to admit to. Forcing a bored look onto his face, he took another casual drink of his beer.

  “Is she your life-ma—”

  “Don’t,” he snapped, cutting her off with a snarl that sounded as far from casual as you could get. “We’re not having that conversation.”

  Holding up her hands in a “take it easy” gesture, she said, “Okay. I get it. Just...promise me that you’ll take my advice and be careful. It’s hell to be in love with someone who can’t love you back.”

  He frowned, wondering if it were possible she was speaking from experience. Then a horrible thought slammed into him and he blanched.

  “Oh, God,” she said with a laugh, frantically waving her hands between them. “Just stop! I’m not talking about you, Pall. I swear! That’s just... Seriously, I love you, but not like that. Yuck!”

  “Then who?” he demanded, ready to kick the bastard’s ass for her.

  Patting his arm, she said, “It’s none of the guys, okay? So you don’t have to worry about killing anyone right this second.”

  “Carla...”

  “Come on,” she said, waggling her brows as she pulled on his arm. “Let’s get back in there before we miss more of the crazy Cian and Sayre show. I swear that shit is hilarious.”

  He thought about arguing, then let it go, not wanting to push. And, hell, it wasn’t as if that was the kind of conversation he wanted to have with his partner anyway. Realizing she’d already ditched him and he was now standing in the kitchen by himself, Wyatt went back into the living room and took his seat beside Elise on one of the leather sofas. They hung around for coffee and brownies, listening to Torrance and Michaela tell a funny story about one of the customers at the mystical shop that Michaela still owned down in the human town of Covington, before everyone eventually agreed to call it a night. He and Elise said their goodbyes, then made their way out into the moonlit darkness. They stayed silent as they walked back to his cabin.

  “So, it, um, looks like I’m staying for a while,” she murmured as he locked the front door behind them.

  “I’m glad you’ve decided that, because I wasn’t letting you go.”

  She gave him a tight, nervous smile as she stood beside the end table where a lamp was spilling out a soft, muted glow of light, then took a deep breath and said, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Chapter 7

  “Okay.” Wyatt pushed his hands in his front pockets, hoping the casual gesture would help put her at ease. “I’m listening, El.”

  She licked her lips, then whispered, “What happened last night, it wasn’t just because of the war. Or the tensions in town. It was...personal.”

  “Because of your old man?”

  She shook her head, thick waves of auburn hair that his fingers itched to touch spilling over her shoulders with effortless sensuality. “No. Because of me.”

  He took a step toward her, his muscles bunching with tension. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Her breath released on a soft shudder, and she blinked up at him. “He... The one you found in my room. He told me...”

  As her words trailed off, it took everything Wyatt had to keep his voice soft while his inner beast chuffed with frustration. The dark, dangerous, visceral kind. “You can trust me, El. I won’t tell anyone else what that son of a bitch said unless you want me to.”

  “Not even Eric?” she whispered, the trembling of her jaw making him want to take her into his arms and crush her against his chest. “Because I’ve already lost one brother to this nightmare, Wyatt. I know Eli is still alive, but he’s gone. I never see him. Never hear from him. I don’t want Eric to do something in anger and end up losing him, too.”

  “I know,” he rasped, fucking hating that she was upset. “I get it, sweetheart. I know what you’re saying.”

  She moved to the window, and he turned, watching her profile as she stared out into the darkness. She took a deep, shaky breath, then finally told him what the Lycan had said to her. How he’d claimed to be one of the monsters who’d raped her. Though Wyatt had suspected as much, especially after the conversation he’d had with Jillian and Michaela, it still twisted his gut with rage. With his hands fisted in his pockets and his pulse roaring in his ears, Wyatt listened until Elise’s husky voice trailed off again. Then he crossed the space between them and stood at her side. When he spoke, his own voice was rough with emotion, and it took every damn thing he had not to reach for her. Not to grab hold of her fragile form and pull her into his arms, where he could keep her safe.

  “We can talk about this more tomorrow,” he told her, reaching up and tucking a gleaming strand of hair behind the tender shell of her ear, where a tiny diamond earring sparkled in the light. “Right now you’re tired and you need to sleep, El. Why don’t you get in bed and I’ll bring you in something to drink? Okay?”

  She turned her head to look at him, her eyes glassy but the tilt of her chin proud. She was such a hard-ass at times, but he knew that was her go-to defense mechanism. The way she held herself together, when so many things had tried to tear her apart. Her father. The attack. Eli’s banishment. And now this new nightmare bearing down on her. So that meant that for the moment, he sucked up his own wants and needs and did right by her. Which was why he was sending her sweet little ass to bed instead of doing everything he could to make sure he ended up there with her.

  She didn’t say anything in response to his quiet words. Just watched him with those beautiful blue eyes, gave a little nod, then turned an
d headed toward the hallway. Wyatt scrubbed his hands down his face and sucked in a deep breath, giving himself a moment to get his shit together. To fight down the lust and primitive sense of possession that was riding him hard, so that he could do the decent thing and be a friend when she needed one.

  Christ, there were times when he fucking hated being decent.

  With a muttered curse, he headed into the kitchen, pouring them both shots of Jack Daniel’s. Her eyes went a little wide when he carried the drinks into the spare bedroom, and he forced a lazy grin onto his lips. “I don’t expect you to toss it back, El. You can sip it, and it’ll help you relax.”

  She murmured a quiet thanks as he handed her the heavy shot glass, knocking his own drink back as he watched her take a cautious sip of the amber-colored liquor. She winced a bit, her nostrils flaring as she swallowed, then gave a little cough. “Wow. That’s strong. Good, but strong.”

  “Just make sure you finish it,” he told her, turning and heading back for the door, every second he had to stand there and see her lying in that bed, propped up against the pillows, with the sheet drawn up under her arms, playing absolute hell on his system. He’d nearly reached the door when her softly spoken question stopped him.

  “Why now?”

  Elise watched as Wyatt’s left hand tightened around his empty shot glass, and then he slowly turned back around to face her.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, the grittiness of his voice making her shiver.

  “Why now? It’s been three years. So why come after me now?”

  The muted glow of light from the lamp on her bedside table made his hair look midnight-black, the dark locks gleaming as he shook his head. “I don’t know, babe. Maybe the fact that your father was killed not that long ago. Maybe that we’re vulnerable. Maybe all the pieces just fit together. Maybe they’ve been biding their time all these years, just waiting.” He paused, then shoved his free hand back through his hair, looking as if he were having some kind of internal debate with himself. After several heavy moments of silence, he spoke again in a low, gruff tone. “There’s something we’re going to check out, but I don’t know if it will actually lead to anything.”

  “What is it?” she gasped, jerking up into a sitting position. Despite her surprise, she was careful to keep the sheet pressed against her chest, since she wasn’t wearing a bra with her tank top.

  “What do you know about the Claymore brothers from the Whiteclaw pack? You ever meet them?”

  “No,” she told him, feeling as if her heart were trying to climb its way into her throat. “Why?”

  “You sure about that?”

  Her eyes went wide. “Yes. Why? What’s going on?”

  “They’re Roy Claymore’s nephews. I don’t like the older brother, Harris. Only met him a few times, but he’s a thug, like his uncle. The younger one, Sebastian, is a little different. Not sure what to make of him, to be honest.”

  “Wyatt, what aren’t you telling me?”

  Rubbing his hand along the hard edge of his jaw, he said, “Jillian started wondering today if maybe there’s a connection between your, um, memory lapse of your attack and the drug the Whiteclaw are using on the human girls.”

  She swallowed against her rising panic and felt all the blood drain from her face, her thoughts spinning. “Oh, my God.”

  “It got us thinking about why someone would start messing with you now, and we thought of the Claymore brothers. Their old man sent them both out west three years ago, where they remained until Roy took control of the pack and called them home.”

  “And you think...” She had to stop and clear her throat before she could go on. “You think what happened to me might have had something to do with them being sent away?”

  “I don’t know, El. I don’t have a shred of proof. But after what you’ve told me that bastard said to you last night, my gut tells me it’s something worth looking into.”

  “What do we do?” she asked, biting her lip.

  “We stay smart and we don’t assume anything until we have some solid answers. I’ll also try to track down some photos of the Claymores online to see if their faces are at all familiar to you. You might have met them at some point and not even realize it. And we sure as hell don’t let down our guard just because we might have an idea of who came after you.”

  “All right. I appreciate you telling me.”

  “Yeah, well, I can imagine how frustrating this situation is for you, and I don’t want you worrying that we know things we’re not sharing with you. I will always be honest with you about what’s going on. I won’t bullshit you.”

  “Good.” She lifted her chin, dredging up every pitiful ounce of strength she possessed in order to put her brave face on. “Because I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m going to crack.”

  “That’s not gonna happen, El. You’re strong. Stronger than you even realize.”

  A bitter, humorless laugh jerked from her throat, making him frown. “Not strong enough, Wyatt. I’ll probably end up spending half the night reading again, just so I don’t have to keep having nightmares.”

  “Like the ones you had last night?” he asked, his frown deepening as he stepped closer to the bed.

  She swallowed again, forcing the words from her tight throat. “Um, yeah. I think pieces from that night three years ago are starting to come back to me. Not any vital information that helps me identify them. Just fragments. Voices. Things they called me. I guess it’s a good thing, because I hated relying on Jillian to know what happened. But it’s—” She broke off as a tight smile twisted her mouth. “It just makes it impossible to sleep.”

  He didn’t mock her or make her feel like an idiot. Instead, he simply cocked his head a bit to the side, watching her with those beautifully dark eyes, and asked, “Would it help if I read to you?”

  Her heart gave a little jolt in her chest. “Seriously?”

  “Sure.” He flashed her one of those sexy, crooked smiles that always quickened her pulse. “What are you reading?”

  She bit her lip again, trying not to laugh. “Um, just something that I borrowed from Torrance,” she murmured, taking out the book she’d left under her pillow and handing it to him as he came closer to the bed. She expected him to balk when he realized it was a romance, but he simply lifted a brow at the somewhat racy cover, flashed her a devastating grin and settled back in the chair she’d found him sitting in that morning. Then he set down the shot glass, flipped to the page she’d earmarked and started reading in that deliciously deep, velvet-rough voice that sounded like sin. Before she knew it, nearly two hours had gone by, and he was reading the last line of the book.

  “I’ve never read one of these, but it was good,” he told her, setting the trade-size novel on her bedside table. At her look of surprise, he said, “I’m serious. But I thought the guy was a pussy to run from her. He should have manned up and just been honest with her from the start. Would have saved them both from having to go through all that bullshit.”

  The grin on her lips started to slip. “Yeah, well, it’s not always that easy.”

  He sat back in the chair, looking as if he were working some kind of problem out in his head. The silence stretched out, becoming awkward and heavy, until he finally said, “But if he trusted her, he would have told her.”

  “Trust is a complicated thing, though, isn’t it?”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  Needing to change the subject, she gave him a teasing smile. “Well, the good news is that you have an incredible voice. If you ever give up Bloodrunning, you could always make audiobooks. Women all over the world would be in heaven listening to you.”

  He blinked, looking a little warm under his skin. “Uh, thanks.”

  With a soft laugh, she said, “Wow, you’re pretty cute when you’re blushing, Wyatt.”

  He snorted, giving her a mock glare. “And you’re a little brat for trying to embarrass me.”

  Elise flu
ttered her lashes. “I was just being honest.”

  “Uh-huh,” he murmured, rolling his eyes. “And Bambi isn’t the saddest frigging movie that was ever made.”

  She laughed again, liking the way it made him smile as he stood up from the chair. The air practically crackled with sexual tension as he stood there by the side of the bed, just staring down at her, the hooded, hungry look on his face sending her heart rate tripping. Her giggles faded as she held her breath, waiting for him to go ahead and tell her to stop wasting his time and lose the damn clothes, then spread her legs and let him have his mind-shattering way with her. But even though she would have sworn to every deity she’d ever heard of that that was what he wanted, in the end he simply cleared his throat and muttered, “I’ll just, uh, let you get some sleep now.”

  Elise stared in stunned amazement as he turned and made his way across the room. He’d just reached the doorway when she blurted, “You’re not even going to try to kiss me good-night?”

  He gripped the door frame with clenched fingers, the muscles in his arms ropy and hard, thick veins pressing beneath his dark skin. It had to be one of the sexiest, most masculine poses Elise had ever seen, turning her blood molten, her pulse rushing with a low roar in her ears. She was scared that he wouldn’t turn around—and equally frightened that he would. But in the end, he made a rough, primitive sound deep in his chest and kept his back to her as he said, “If I stay, I’ll want to do a hell of a lot more than kiss you, El. And you’re not ready for it.”

  “But—”

  “Come get me if you need anything,” he rasped, cutting her off. Then he walked out and closed the door behind him, leaving her with nothing but her churning thoughts and terrifying desire for company.

  Chapter 8

  Elise had never imagined she would be walking into her house with Wyatt Pallaton at her side, but that was exactly the situation she found herself in the following day. After waking up early and sharing coffee and croissants with Jillian—Jeremy and Wyatt had driven down into Wesley for some supplies for the Alley—she’d spent the rest of the morning familiarizing herself with Wyatt’s cabin while she waited for him to return. She liked his rugged, minimalistic style of decorating, with comfortable leather sofas and chairs, rustic wooden tables and plush pewter-colored rugs over hardwood floors that gleamed. The walls were covered in crowded bookshelves and austere but beautiful black-and-white nature scenes.