Betrayed: Days of the Rogue (55 page)

Eve’s head was turned towards him,
a smile hovering on her lips, a faint pinkness staining her cheeks.
He loved the fact that she was so shy about their physical
relationship and yet such a minx at other times. He brushed a
strand of hair from her face.

“Are you okay? I mean with us
bridging our minds?” He whispered the question, tracing her
features with his eyes. “I wasn’t sure after your experience with
Gordie…”

She pressed a finger to his lips.
“Rafe, listen to yourself. We just shared every possible feeling
with each other. You know how I feel about it.”

He paused and then chuckled. “I
guess I want to hear the words as well.”

“I’m fine. It was amazing. I can’t
wait to do it again.” She stroked his cheek tenderly. “But it’s
very nice of you to be so concerned.”

“I love you, Eve.” He brushed his
thumb over her lips, his heart in his eyes.

“I know. I love you, too.”

He tucked her close to his chest.
For a while they were silent, enjoying being together, the warmth
of the flames washing over them. Eve nuzzled closer to Rafe’s
chest, a contented sigh escaping her.

“Eve?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you ever consider returning
to Grassy Hills or does it hold bad memories for you?”

“A few, but it’s a beautiful place
with lots of inspiration for my paintings.” She leaned her head
back and looked at him. “Why?”

“I was considering changing it from
fishing cabins to a sort of halfway camp.”

“A halfway camp?”

“Uh-huh.” He propped himself up on
his arm and looked down at her. “I work with rogues, wolves that
don’t fit into Lycan society. I try to help them integrate back
into a pack. What we do at my clinic is great, but the transition
from clinic life to pack life is too abrupt. Grassy Hills seemed
like a perfect location for a halfway house.”

“That makes sense.” She chuckled
softly while idly running a finger down the centre of his chest. “I
never pictured you as a fisherman. You didn’t even have a fishing
rod.”

“Damn. I was hoping no one would
notice that.” He grinned down at her. “I hate fishing.”

“Well then, I guess you’d better
get that halfway camp started.” A smile curled the corners of her
mouth as she studied his face. There was an animation about him, a
lack of tension around his eyes that let her know the idea was
important to him.

“I have to get funding approval,
but from the noises Lycan Link and the Academy are making it seems
promising.”

She sat up, curious about the world
he lived in—the one she was about to join. “Lycan Link?”

He nodded. “It’s like our
government. Lycan Link makes it possible for werewolves to
integrate into human society. They coordinate services like health
care and education, help packs with investments, provide cover
stories when needed—”

“Cover stories? You mean hiding
that you’re werewolves?”

“Right. For example, to the human
population I’m a psychiatrist at an obscure university. I conduct
research at a small clinic located near the campus, live in an
upscale neighbourhood and even wear a suit and tie to work.”

“But that’s all true…isn’t it?” She
hesitated and gave him a questioning look.

“That’s the beauty of a good cover.
It’s based on truth. I
do
work at a clinic and I
am
a
psychiatrist–my clients just happen to be rogues. This house isn’t
really mine, though. Lycan Link technically owns it and I only live
here because it suits the image I’m trying to portray. On my own
I’d never be able to afford a place like this.”

“So you’re not really a rich
doctor? Darn.” She affected a pout and then laughed.

“Sorry. The medical field isn’t
that lucrative in the Lycan world. We work for the good of the pack
and our wages are on par with that of any other service provider.
It’s a decent living but not phenomenal.”

“The good of the pack.” She bit her
lip, her brows drawn together. “I guess there’s a lot I’ll have to
learn.”

Rafe sat up as well and took one of
her hands in his. “Do you really understand what you’re getting
into?”

“How much else is there?” She
looked at him warily.

“Well…” He rubbed his thumb over
her knuckles and hesitated before speaking. “Werewolves form a
blood bond.”

“What’s that?” She didn’t like the
word ‘blood.’ A nasty suspicion began to form in her mind.

“Lycans bite their mates during sex
to form a bond. It’s similar to our empathic bridge. My wolf might
not see you as our mate if we don’t.”

She felt her eyes widen. “You want
to bite me? I mean, really bite me and draw blood?” Her heart
started to pound, her breathing quickened as she recalled the wolf
attack, the pain of the animal’s teeth puncturing her flesh,
tearing and snarling—

“Shhh…” She suddenly realized Rafe
was holding her cradled in his arms, her head pressed to his chest
as he crooned soothing words. “It’s all right. You’re okay.”

Eve exhaled long and slow, as she
relaxed her tensed muscles. “What happened?”

“A minor panic attack.” He craned
his neck so he could see her face, a look of concern in his eyes.
“Do you have those often?”

“No…well, sometimes. At night.” She
stroked his arm, loving the play of the muscles under her palm. He
was very fit; it made her feel safe being in his arms.

“Understandable.” Rafe nodded. “But
I can help you with those, both through talking and our empathic
link.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him,
grateful that he was being so calm and not fussing like Caro had.
She cleared her throat. “So, about this blood bond…”

“No, I don’t think—” He paused and
something in her expression must have changed his mind for he
continued on. “It would be a small bite on the neck, right about
here.” He stroked a spot just above the juncture of her neck and
collarbone. “And I lick up a bit of the blood.”

“Do I have to bite you?” She made a
face, the very thought of piercing his flesh and drawing blood made
her feel queasy.

“You can if you want to. Haven’t
you ever wanted to bite during sex?” A teasing glint appeared in
his eyes.

“Well… Maybe. But not hard enough
to break the skin. Is that part really necessary?”

“Not for you. My wolf will want to,
but it will understand that it might have to wait. It’s a rather
understanding beast.”

Eve thought it over. “Thanks. The
wolf is part of who you are and I want us to be together. It will
just take me some time to get used to the idea.”

“Brave girl.” He pressed his lips
to her forehead.

“Is there anything else?”

“Well, there will be times when
I’ll be shifting into my wolf form and you’ll still be human.”

“I wish I could share that with
you.” While she was still a bit leery of wolves, the idea of
shifting into an animal was intriguing. “Is there any way I could
become a wolf? In the movies a werewolf bite causes people to
transform.”

Rafe snorted. “Hollywood legends.
Unless you have werewolf genes hiding in your background there’s no
way you can become a werewolf.”

“Oh. So I stay home while you go
out and howl at the moon?”

He tapped her playfully on the
nose. “First of all, I do not howl at the moon though we do
sometimes have full moon parties when we all get together and
shift. Secondly, you only stay home if you want.”

While she knew Rafe would keep her
safe, she wondered if she’d feel odd surrounded by a pack of
wolves. Trying to make light of it, she made a joke. “Maybe I’ll be
like one of those professional dog-walkers.”

He chuckled. “Don’t try to put a
leash on me.”

“Haven’t you been to obedience
classes?” She leaned back and blinked at him innocently.

“Eve…” He gave a low warning growl
and she squealed, trying to escape in mock fear.

A brief wrestling match ended with
Eve on her back and Rafe looming over her. He traced her brow with
the tip of one finger, sliding it down her cheek to her chin and
then tipping her head so he could see her eyes. “I want you to be
happy, Eve. We’ll hold off on the blood bond until you’re ready.
And I won’t go on the runs if it will bother you. We can even stay
here and just use Grassy Hills as our own private getaway.” He
shrugged. “I know being a doctor’s wife and living in a fancy house
is supposed to be every woman’s dream. It doesn’t really matter to
me. Being with you is the most important thing.”

Her heart swelled seeing the care
and concern in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I can handle it.” She
grinned and traced his lips with her finger. “Now let’s get started
on some desensitization therapy.”

“Hmm?” He gave her a quizzical
look.

She giggled. “Wolf bites, Rafe.
Wolf bites.” And with that she gave her best imitation of a growl
and pulled him down on top of her.

Epilogue:

Damien leaned against the wall in
Deirdre’s office, his thumbs casually hooked in his belt loops.
She’d summoned him for another assignment and, as was typical of
her, was now making him wait before she put in an appearance. He
glanced at the wall behind her desk. It sported what he’d always
suspected was a two-way mirror. Deirdre was the type who would use
covert observation to help her gain the upper hand.

Well, she wouldn’t learn a damned
thing from him. As usual, he kept his expression bland, his posture
loose. He’d learned long ago not to telegraph his emotions.

To keep himself occupied, he
speculated why she’d left him alone this past month. Perhaps she’d
been hoping he’d come to her of his own accord, or maybe her
thinking had been that he’d end up in some mess and she’d have to
rescue him by the scruff of his neck. Deirdre would have loved
that; it would have given her something to hold over his head.
Instead, from her point of view at least, his month of freedom had
passed uneventfully. She’d had him under surveillance ever since
the Grassy Hills incident, not that he’d given any sign that he’d
known. Perhaps she hadn’t felt she could trust him, given that the
assignment had turned sour. Whatever the case, the call had finally
come and now he was back in her office.

The steel door to the right of her
desk slid open on a whisper of sound, and Deirdre entered the room
strutting on her impossibly high heels. Today she was wearing a
black suit, satin trimmed, the coat perfectly tailored to show off
her figure. A flash of cleavage hinted that she was wearing nothing
under the jacket. Professional, yet designed to entice the male of
the species.

Damien took a step away from the
wall he’d been leaning against. She gave him a slow, seductive
smile and glided over to where he now stood.

Mentally, he’d been braced for a
much different reception, but apparently she wasn’t going rip him a
new one for taking over seventy-two hours to answer her summons.
He’d wondered how she’d react, and was almost disappointed that
they weren’t going to have a verbal showdown.

“Damien.” She spoke his name in her
low, husky voice as she circled around him, invading his personal
space. Her body brushed against his with a subtlety that could be
taken for an accident if he hadn’t known her so well. Everything
Deirdre did was for a purpose, whether it was to seduce or arouse
or intimidate. The aim was always the same, to control the men she
handled.

All her wiles had yet to work on
him; it was one of the things that he knew infuriated her the most.
He knew it drove her crazy, and it provided him with some
amusement. Deirdre was a bitch, too used to getting her own way,
and she couldn’t believe he was immune to her obvious assets. Of
course, she would never admit it, he could always tell by the
slight tightening around her mouth and the vague hint of a vertical
line between her brows.

“Deirdre.” He acknowledged her by
name, but in no way did his body show she had any effect on him.
His breathing stayed steady, he didn’t flinch or try to move away.
Her perfume—a heavy, musky scent—wrapped around him teasing his
nostrils but not arousing or stimulating him. She’d only ever been
a means to an end for him, that was all.

Stopping behind him, her ample
breasts brushed his back but he made no comment. When she spoke, it
was in a cooing tone, her breath tickling his ear.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered
while placing her hands on his shoulders and slowly sliding them
down his arms to his biceps.

“Not likely. The others were here
for you to
play
with. And you knew where I was if you needed
me for an assignment.”

“Most of the time.” Deirdre amended
his statement with a soft laugh. “We lost you a few times. That’s
what makes you such an asset to this organization. Your…skills…are
superb.” She whispered the last word into his ear as she slid
around him, her body skimming against his arm. When she was finally
in front of him, she slowly trailed a finger down the middle of his
chest, stopping at his belt and glancing up at his face. Giving a
light laugh, she boldly ran her finger over the zipper of his
pants.

His only response was to raise an
eyebrow and try to control the bored sigh that threatened to
escape. He could see their reflections in the mirror across the
room. Was there someone on the other side observing, hoping to get
a thrill from watching her seduce him? Idly, he speculated at the
placement of the desk. How many of his fellow assassins had she
taken on the smooth wooden surface?

“Always so cool and controlled,”
Deirdre affected a pout. Abandoning her attempts at seduction, she
strolled to her desk. Damien noted the sway of her hips with
complete disinterest.

Bored with the game she was
playing, he got to the point of his being there. “You asked to see
me. Why?”

Cocking her head, she studied him.
“You’ve changed. A few months ago the prospect of a new job excited
you. I don’t sense that anymore.”