Wolf's Fall (16 page)

“Good. In the meantime, Nick, tell your most trusted Pack members to keep a sharp eye on any strange comings and goings among anyone in the
stronghold, man or woman. Or any behavior that seems suspicious. I'll do the same.”

Nick didn't bother to reiterate that he trusted all of his team implicitly. He was also ninety-nine percent sure he would know, via his gift, whether one of his men had turned. He didn't have the ability to see
everything
, but this much he felt confident about.

“I'll tell them,” he said. Then he waved a hand at the door. “As soon as I get some clothes I'll meet with my team.”

The men left the room, John volunteering to send someone with fresh clothes for Nick, then get the team together in the prince's conference room. Calla studied him with worry, and he knew it wouldn't be long before she voiced it. He was right.

“I think it's too soon for you to jump right back in to work.”

“Honey, I'm healed. That being the case, there isn't any way I'm going to sit on my ass while everyone else takes care of our current problem.”

“I know, but that doesn't make me feel any better.”

His lips turned up at her adorable pout, and he smiled. “That pretty face could get me into a lot of trouble if I let it. But I'm not going to give in,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood. It worked, better than he expected.

Winding her arms around his neck, she took his
mouth softly at first, moving against him. She smelled so good, felt so fantastic, his body responded with fervor, tenting the sheets over his lap. The kiss deepened and they explored, dueling tongues, and his blood fired up.

She pulled back with a sensual, satisfied smile. “What was it you weren't going to do?”

“I forgot.”

“Jesus,” Micah said as he came into the room, holding a bundle of clothes. “Man, you need the doc to come back and take a look at that?”

Calla giggled at Nick's annoyance. Then Nick really looked at Micah—the younger man's hands were shaking as he handed Nick the clothing, and his eyes were bloodshot, the pupils blown. A familiar buzz settled over Nick's brain, and the vision caught him swiftly.

Micah and an attractive dark-haired woman faced off in an unfamiliar bedroom. “What the fuck is this, Micah?” she shouted, shaking a small bottle in her fist. The contents rattled ominously between the couple. “You told me you'd stopped using! You lied to me, to your team!”

“Jacee, please—”

“Please, what? Give you another chance, and another, while I wait for the day one of your brothers comes to tell me you're dead of an overdose? Or were gutted by the enemy because you were stoned during a fight?”

“No,” he denied, voice tight. “That won't happen.”

“You need to go.” Looking defeated, she turned her back on him. “Now.”

“Baby, please. Don't throw me away. I'll get help. I'll quit. Anything—”

“Now, Micah.”

She meant it. Micah had no right to stay, no grounds to defend himself. Taking a breath, he said, “I love you. That won't change, ever. I'm always here if you need me, or change your mind.”

Numbly, he walked past her and out the bedroom door. Kept going, all the way outside to his motorcycle, where he sat and stared at her house for long moments. A tear trailed down his face and he wiped it away with his sleeve. Trying to keep it together.

Failing.

Cranking the bike, Micah sped away from the house. From the loss tearing out his insides. He ran from his ruined life, the destruction of his hopes and dreams. With the Pack, with his mate.

And so he didn't see the shifter with the huge wings swoop down from the sky, talons extended, intent clear. Nick couldn't scream. Couldn't warn Micah of the danger.

The creature hit Micah from the side, hard, knocking him from the speeding motorcycle. Micah went airborne, flying through the air for awful seconds—until he slammed headfirst into a tree. Falling to the ground in a crumpled heap, head at an unnatural angle, he stared into the sky. Struggled to breathe.

And then stopped, brown eyes fixing on a point he could no longer see.

Nick propelled himself from the horrid vision, fighting to regain the here and now. Calla's and Micah's concerned voices coaxed him back to reality, and slowly the room came into focus. His lungs were burning and he heaved a great breath, focusing on the worried wolf in front of him.

“Nick? Boss, you with us?”

Can't interfere with free will. But I can suggest, and that doesn't mean they'll listen.

He wanted to tell Micah to sell his bike. Not to get involved with Jacee, the bartender from the Cross-eyed Grizzly. To quit using. Any number of things to avert the terrible future he'd just witnessed. In the end, he went straight to the heart of the matter.

Leaning toward Micah, he said, “Take a serious look at your life and where it's going, because I just did.”

The man paled, the scarred side of his face standing out in stark relief. “You had a vision? About me?”

“Yeah. And your story doesn't end well, if you keep on your current path,” he told the man grimly. “Kick your addiction, now—and keep your eyes on the skies.”

“Shit.” Micah swallowed hard. “The skies? I don't get that part.”

“Me, either. But apparently you're going to make some nasty enemies in the near future, and you're going to need to be alert to fight them. With
our help, of course. You can always count on your team, Micah. Don't forget you're never alone in your struggles, okay?”

Wide-eyed, the man nodded. “I won't. But I'm not an addict, okay? Mac
prescribed
this stuff I'm on. I know it's an experimental drug, but it really helps me cope, you know?”

“Maybe it did at first, but now it's killing you, kid. We're going to talk to Mac and see about alternatives.”

“All right,” he agreed, clearly shaken. As he should be.

“I'm going to get dressed, and I'll meet you and the others in the conference room in a few.”

“Got it.” After hesitating, Micah walked out.

First the disturbing vision about Phoenix and Noah, and now this. Every one of the guys had endured his share of heartache, and it seemed there was more on the horizon.

“Nick?” Calla said softly. “Is Micah going to die?”

“We'll all die sooner or later.” He regretted his flip response the instant it left his mouth. “I'm sorry. Believe me, baby, you don't want to know what I saw. But what I said to him was the absolute truth—if he doesn't get his act together, he's headed for a brutal and abrupt end.”

“Gods!” Taking his hand, she brought it to her face. “I don't know how you cope with being able to see the future. That's one so-called gift I'd never
wish for, ever. I'm here for you, though, however I can be. I'll help keep an eye on him when I can.”

He kissed her forehead. “Thanks, baby. What I see isn't written in stone, thank God. Events can change, because the choices people make constantly change.”

“Well, I hope his choices change, and soon.”

“Me, too.” He sighed. “I've got to get to this meeting. Can I come to your quarters afterward so we can talk?”

“Of course.” She wrapped him in a hug, holding tight for a minute before letting go. “My door is always open to you. You're my mate.”

That went a long way toward warming the place that had gone cold in his heart after the vision. After giving her another lingering kiss, he slid from the bed and put on the jeans and black T-shirt John had sent with Micah, then pulled on his boots. Feeling more human, he walked out, holding Calla's hand.

“You were supposed to wait for my clearance,” Viktor admonished as Nick approached.

“Sorry. Things to do, people to see.”

Whatever else the doctor might have said was lost as Nick hurried out of the infirmary. In the corridor, he turned and gave his mate another quick kiss. “See you soon.”

“Not if I see you first.”

With a short laugh, he left her, reluctantly. He'd rather be anywhere in the world with his mate
than working, but he figured most newly mated guys felt that way. It might sound cliché, but she really was the bright spot in his darkness and he didn't want to be away from her long enough even to hold a simple meeting.

Forcing his mind to the task at hand, he made his way to the meeting. The guys were restless when he walked in, and met him with a chorus of greetings. He caught some good-natured shit about his run-in with the basilisk, which he knew by now meant they counted him one of them. After almost a year and a half leading the team, their complete acceptance meant more than they knew.

Unbidden, thoughts of Damien and his incessant phone calls infiltrated his brain. His brother hadn't given up trying to reestablish a relationship with him, and it was wearing Nick the fuck out. He didn't know what to say to the asshole past hello, and didn't care to try.

Selene would be disappointed in him. God, that hurt. His daughter held out such hope that her father and uncle would reunite.
When hell freezes over
.

“John,” he said, getting started. The team looked to the big man, some of them wearing curious expressions that indicated they were still getting used to his real name. “Were you able to speak with the basilisk?”

John stood and came forward to lean against the wall near the front of the room. “Yeah. Her
name is Sasha. Her story is she was abducted from her nest a few days ago and held captive in a dark cell underground. She was tortured and starved, bound by a tight collar around her neck to keep her from shifting. Her bruises and physical condition support that claim.”

“Christ,” someone muttered.

“Can she identify who took her?” Nick asked.

“Humans in cammo pants and carrying assault weapons.”

“Hunters,” Jax said, hate filling his eyes.

“They weren't the ones calling the shots, though, according to Sasha,” John continued. “That would be the mysterious vampire everyone was bowing and scraping to, trying to please.”

Nick leaned against the edge of the table with one hip. “Did she get a description?”

“Pale complexion, longish dark hair. No name.”

“Wow, that really narrows it down,” Aric drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I don't know a single fuckin' vampire who fits
that
description.”

Nick shot the redhead a glare, and the wolf shut up. Miraculously.

“Did she catch any talk among them about their agenda?”

“Now, that she
did
manage,” John confirmed. “Seeing as how they all thought we'd kill her when we got to the scene, their lips were pretty loose. It's pretty much what we thought—letting loose a basilisk in the city, one who had been
tortured and starved, was a lure for us. Only it
was
supposed to be an ambush, so something obviously went wrong.”

“Could've changed their minds at the last minute,” Micah suggested.

“After going to all that trouble to set it up?” Ryon, healed and out of the infirmary as well, shook his head. “Don't think so.”

“Dissension among the ranks, maybe,” Jax speculated. “Someone didn't follow orders.”

“Or just fucked up. It happens.” This from Kalen.

“Whatever the case, we'll be ready if they pull that shit again,” Nick told them. “But I'm inclined to think they'll have something different planned.”

“Like?” John asked.

“A full-scale attack. They may have decided to test and observe us, note our individual strengths and fighting skills so they'd be better prepared when they hit us,” Nick said. That was a chilling thought, and the men stilled as this possibility sank in.

Zander blew out a breath. “That would mean we're really in the shit. You guys have to be careful out there, especially with my healing abilities not up to par.”

Jax clamped a hand on his best friend's shoulder. “You just look out for yourself. We'll be fine.”

“I'll tell Tarron what we've talked about,” Nick said. “We've posted more guards around the
stronghold and he's got drills planned to practice sneaking the females and offspring out and off the mountain in case of emergency. I'm not sure what else we can do but be ready.”

“Find out who their leader is, where they are, and wipe them off the planet first?” Kalen suggested.

Nick's lips turned up. “That would be the best scenario, and we're working on it. The minute we have any information, we'll smoke their asses. Believe me.” He paused. “Unless anyone has something to add, I have an announcement. This is why I wanted to meet just with you guys today and not with Tarron and his men.”

Most of them knew, or had a clue. They were just waiting for him to say it.

“Calla Shaw and I are Bondmates.”

A cheer went up, and a round of congrats, followed by more ribbing. Nick took it all in stride, not mentioning the issues he and his mate were still working out. But they had deserved the words from his lips before they found out elsewhere.

“Where are you two going to live, Nick?” Jax asked, a slight frown on his face as he pulled at his goatee.

“We haven't gotten that far yet, but I'll let you all know. One thing I can say for sure is I'm not leaving the team or stepping down.”

“Damned straight!” Aric exclaimed. Laughing, the others agreed and Nick was promised bodily
injury if he tried to so much as type a resignation letter to Grant.

That made him feel pretty damned good.

Dismissing his team, he endured the backslaps as he left the room. How different this life was from when he was under Damien's rule. His brother was so unbending. Practical. Ruthless. Damien's men were definitely not his brothers; they'd feared him. And fear bred hatred.