Changed: 2 (Wolf's Den) (11 page)

Although she kept her eyes closed she sensed Declan’s
departure. His fingers eased from her sensitive flesh, his scent drifting from
her as he walked away. She heard the rustle of clothing, knew he was adjusting
his jeans and putting them back in place. It dawned on her that she should show
some amount of composure. She closed her legs and brought them to her chest,
wanting to cry for some strange reason she didn’t understand.

Poor Declan.

Just by wanting her he’d drawn the short end of the stick.

“It’s okay, sweet girl.” Her skin prickled at the
endearment. She’d expected Declan to sound angry or annoyed. Instead he sounded
almost sad. A hand wrapped around her wrist, followed by a firm tug. “Let’s get
out of here. I’m going to take you to get your things and then we’ll go home.
You need to rest.”

Rest?
The animal within her reared its ugly head.
I
don’t
want
to rest.

She tried to fight the creature but didn’t know how. Just
like that—click, click, boom—she was out of the tattoo chair. She snarled at
Declan, her gums tingling. The wolf roared in her skull, the sound horrific and
foreign. She brought her hands to her temples and pressed the fatty part of her
palms to her face. Everything felt and looked strange, coated in that horrific
shade of red. She made out Declan’s face, saw that he’d shifted from soothing
to dominant.

“Stop it,” he ordered, facing her without fear. “I know you
can hear me, Rachel. You control the wolf. She doesn’t control you. Put her in
her place.”

Put her in her place how?

She felt the winding under her skin, could sense the animal
gaining control. Reaching out, she whispered hoarsely, “Help me.”

Although he took her hand, he didn’t grant her the
assistance she needed. “Only you can do that. Force her back. You can do this.”

The rage increased. The animal’s fear and needs merged
together. It wanted to claim its mate before it was too late, to rise to
control and take over. It didn’t want to be denied by its human counterpart.

“Stop. Right now,” Declan snarled.

Calm settled over her, Declan’s order like a comforting
balm. She faced the animal that threatened to control her, screaming at it to
back the fuck off. It seemed to last forever—a standoff without an end in
sight. Her body trembled, her heart thundering in her chest. Then she felt the
shift, the slight hesitation of the wolf. She persisted, ordering it to
retreat. Sweat beaded her brow, her legs quaking as they held her weight.

Go away,
she ordered.
Get the hell out of my mind.

The animal retreated, taking small steps back. With each one
Rachel took control, forcing the beast into a cage built in her mind. As soon
as it entered—leaving her awash in her own thoughts—her legs buckled. Declan
rushed toward her but he wasn’t fast enough. She cried out when her knees hit
the ground, hearing a small crack.

“Motherfucker,” he snarled, pulling her against him.

She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck but she couldn’t
lift them. Instead she sagged, her limbs totally useless. He swept her into his
arms, cocooning her in his scent. She felt the darkness rising up to consume
her and tried to fight it. The last time she’d gone under she’d woken to a new
reality. She couldn’t face that again.

Don’t close your eyes. Keep them open.

Even as she thought it she felt her lashes flutter over her
cheeks.

“I’ve got you,” Declan whispered, keeping her close. “Don’t
be afraid.”

Unfortunately terror was the last thing that she felt before
she surrendered, the horrible feeling permeating her soul. As she was swept
into the tide of dreams she entered nightmares, each one more horrific than the
next.

Of her father’s death.

Of her mother’s destruction.

Of the life she’d been given as a consequence.

Unable to do anything else, she accepted the inevitable. As
always her desperation made things easy. It was a blessing in disguise, the one
thing that gave her some measure of relief. That was the lesson she’d learned,
having had it hammered into her head since youth. When you couldn’t fight it
was best to give up, make yourself small and hope for a sliver of compassion.

In a blink, madness consumed her.

Suffocating pain, bringing her under.

She welcomed the dark tides, letting them do as they wished.
She thought she heard Declan speaking softly to her but she couldn’t be
certain. A wolf howled. The sound echoed through her head, searing into her
soul. Bit by bit she sank into oblivion, lost to all reason.

A mouth skimmed over her temple.

Arms pulled her close.

She tried to hold on to the feelings, wanting to lose
herself in them.

Before she could gain a hold blackness swirled, making the
world dark.

Then there was nothing.

Did he take them all? What would Rachel need?

Declan studied the contents of the drawer, trying to decide
what to do.

She hadn’t woken since she’d passed out in his arms at the
shop. He didn’t want to bother her, so he’d entered her home to retrieve her
things. Her clothes weren’t difficult to sort. He’d left her work things in the
drawers and collected her stain-free jeans and shirts. But when it was time to
get her panties and bras he was at a loss.

Maybe I should buy her new things.
His mood lifted.
The idea appealed to him.
If I took her shopping I could choose everything
that touches her body.

Deciding that would be best, he snatched a handful of
undergarments and stuffed them into the duffel he’d brought into the house.
Done and ready to go, he lifted his head and gazed at his surroundings,
scowling. Rachel kept things clean but the house was falling to pieces. The
ceiling leaked in several places, the walls barely covered with peeling
wallpaper. Her furniture was obviously secondhand, the dresser and nightstand barely
holding together. As a werewolf he didn’t get cold but he did notice the
temperature didn’t change when he entered the residence.

He studied Rachel’s bed, taking in the thick but threadbare
quilts over the top.

His mate had suffered.

Thinking of her living like this made him see red. She
deserved to live in a home that was always warm and safe, surrounded by the
pretty things women liked. If he’d known how bad things were he’d have stepped
in and claimed her sooner. One thing was certain. She’d never live like this
again. He’d see to that. But even if he cared for her would she ever share her
past with him? Would she open the door to her emotions and let him in?

Pushing the thoughts aside, he shook his head and strode
from the room. She had a new home and he’d make sure she was provided for. He
might not be a millionaire but he’d saved more than enough money to support
her. She’d never suffer again. She sure as fuck wouldn’t have to worry about
leaky ceilings, shoddy wallpaper and stinky fucking carpet.

When he made it to the living room, he paused.

A cushion on the couch remained torn, pieces of foam on the
ground. Dark brown smears stained the carpets, the evidence of Rachel’s attack
vividly clear. A growl traveled to his throat, his fingers going tight around
the handles of the duffel.

Rachel could have died.

He could have lost her before he ever knew her.

Don’t go there. Walk out the door and never look back.

Determined to heed his own warning, he started for the door.
He stopped short, freezing when he saw the woman standing in the hallway. She
halted her progress, taking him in.

It didn’t take long for Declan to recognize who she was.

Her nose, hair color and eyes reminded him of Rachel but
this woman was far older. Years of hard living had obviously taken their toll.
She’d pulled her strawberry blonde hair into a low ponytail, the strands
lackluster and stringy. Her eyes, unlike Rachel’s, were dull and lifeless. As
if that wasn’t bad enough, her clothing looked dirty and slept in. The
oversized shirt covering her body was wrinkled, her jeans worn at the knees and
stained.

“Who the hell are you?” The woman’s words were slurred and
uneven.

“I’m Declan. And you are?”

“Cindy Gentry. Rachel’s
mother
.” Staring him up and
down, she asked, “What are you doing here? Where’s Rach?”

“She’s with friends.” Even across the distance he could
smell the booze wafting from her. The female was drinking herself to an early
grave. He hiked the duffel up, resting the back of his hand on his shoulder. “I
came to get her a few things.”

“Are you the flavor of the month?” She tottered toward him.
“If you know what’s good for you, don’t get comfortable. My girl isn’t the
settling type. She knows the score when it comes to men. I made sure I raised
her right.”

I just bet you did.

For weeks he’d wondered about his mate—her past, her family,
her upbringing. His worst imaginings hadn’t come close. This woman—Rachel’s
fucking mother—was a total lush. More than likely she woke to alcohol and not
coffee each morning. He tamped down his temper, telling himself not to judge.
He didn’t know the woman and his mate hadn’t told him enough about her history
for him to make assumptions.

“I’d better go,” he said, making a rush to get the hell out
of the woman’s path.

“Hey, don’t run,” she said, grasping his biceps. “Damn. I
bet you’re in the gym all the time. Is that a farmer’s tan or does your skin
look that good all over? I can see why Rachel took an interest.” She squeezed
his arm, inspecting his muscles, giving him a grin. “Why don’t we sit down and
have a drink? I’m always happy to meet Rachel’s friends.”

“Her husband,” he snarled, ripping away from the disgusting
press of her hand. The retort had come to him naturally. Wolves declared
partners as mates. Humans declared them as husbands and wives. “I’m
not
just
a friend.”

“Husband?” She blinked, staring at him. Then she started
laughing. “Rachel? Married? Give me a break.” She guffawed, her stained teeth
gaining his attention. “Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes. My girl ain’t
the marrying kind.”

“Apparently you don’t know her very well,” he replied briskly
and tried to leave again.

“Hold up, you son of a bitch,” she snapped, grabbing his arm
again. “Don’t tell me I don’t know my own child. I had her. I raised her. I
know her better than anyone. Do you hear me?”

Rachel was asleep in his backseat. The wolf inside him
wanted to return to her. Fighting off the beast had drained her physically but
she’d wake soon. He didn’t want her to come to awareness alone. She needed him
there to anchor her, offering her any and all of the support she needed.

Enough of this shit.

“Believe me.” Staring at the woman, he let the beast peer
through his eyes. He knew his irises would shift color, clueing her in on what
he was. “I know her. Very well.”

She paled as she gazed into his eyes, releasing him
immediately. “What the fuck!” Backing toward the couch, she grasped a glass
paperweight on a nearby table and lifted it into the air. “Where’s my daughter?
What the hell have you done with her?”

“I’ll tell her to call you.” He avoided the questions,
preparing to get the fuck out of the decrepit home. Trying to be courteous, he
dipped his head in a display of respect. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs.
Gentry.”

“I’m calling the police.” She rushed to the phone on the
table next to the couch. Her jaw dropped when she saw the carpet, staring at
the bloodstains covering the floor. Her hand trembled as she reached for the
phone, fear evident in her face. “If you’ve hurt her I’ll make sure you get
what’s coming to you. I’ve seen your car. I know what you look like. And I know
what you are. Tell me where she is or I’ll make sure they hunt you down.”

It was a bluff and they both knew it. The human police would
investigate but once they learned what Declan was they’d turn everything over
to the packs. They knew not to get involved with supernatural creatures. It was
a give and take that had allowed everyone in the area to coexist in peace.

“Rachel’s fine,” he replied, keeping his composure. “But if
you want to call the police, feel free.”

“You son of a bitch!” She threw the paperweight at him. He moved
aside, easily avoiding the object. As soon as it hit the wall the glass made a
loud crack and broke into several pieces.

The female has lost her mind. Get the hell out.

Declan’s nose picked up Rachel’s scent. He turned in time to
see her standing in the hallway, her blue eyes haunted. He didn’t like how sad
she looked, seeming almost broken. Her shoulders were hunched, her posture
radiating pain and misery.

“Hello, Mother.”

Rachel wanted to crawl beneath a rock and die in shame.

Her enhanced sense of smell told her that Mommy Dearest had
been drinking. She picked up traces of tequila and beer. The horrible stench of
sweat and cigarettes clung to Cindy Gentry’s unkempt and dirty clothing. Her
mother hadn’t showered in days. No doubt she’d been on a binge. This wasn’t the
first time she’d paid Rachel a visit after a few days of heavy drinking, asking
for money to buy food and more booze.

She didn’t look at Declan, keeping her gaze on her mother.

What must he think of her now? Was he humiliated? Upset?

She didn’t want to see pity in his eyes.

Over the years she’d stopped trying to make friends. She
didn’t want anyone to know what she dealt with on a regular basis. It was bad
enough that Chloe had witnessed Cindy on a binge. Unfortunately Declan knew the
truth now. He’d seen it firsthand. She’d known it would cut like a knife but
she hadn’t anticipated feeling so ashamed.

Her ego—fragile as it was—couldn’t take much more.

Something inside her shifted, warming the chill that had
overtaken her. Her despondency didn’t vanish but it did lessen, becoming less
powerful somehow.

The wolf.

Her inner beast offered comfort, giving Rachel strength and
balance. For the first time she was grateful for the presence, thankful to have
something to rely on without asking. The shame remained but it wasn’t as harsh,
keeping her from breaking down in a useless wash of tears.

“Rachel,” the concern in her mother’s face abruptly changed
to anger, “what are you thinking? Do you know what he is? Don’t you remember
the things I’ve told you? This is because of Chloe, isn’t it? I told you that
girl is no good now. You need to stay away from her.” Rushing over, she stopped
in front of Rachel and grasped her arms. “Tell him to leave. We need to have a
serious talk.”

Rachel glanced at Declan. He hadn’t moved, letting her
handle the situation.

Sighing, she tried to move away from the hands clutching her
arms. “I’m not in the mood to talk right now. Don’t worry, he’s leaving.” She
heard Declan growl and hurried to clarify. “In fact, we’re both going to go. We
have somewhere we need to be.”

Undeterred, the tipsy woman dug her fingers into Rachel’s
arms. “You’re not going anywhere,” she snapped, bloodshot eyes wild. “If you
think I’m going to let you leave with him you’ve got another think coming.”

“What do you need this time?” Rachel snapped, fed up after
all she’d endured the last couple of days. “Money? A place to crash?”

She reached down, ready to dive into her pocket for cash.
She didn’t have much but she was willing to hand over what little she did. She
wanted Cindy to leave. She wanted to forget this entire ordeal. Her fingers
drifted over the sweatpants Declan had given her. So much for that. She lowered
her hand, shaking her head.

“It’s not going to happen. Not today. I have more important things
to deal with.”

“Don’t you
dare
speak to me like that, you selfish
little shit.” Indignant, her mother moved closer and lowered her voice, “I’ve
done everything for you.
Everything
.”

“Get out of my face.” The order came out as a snarl. The
wolf inside her rose up and that odd shade of red changed the colors in the
room. “I’m not in a very good mood. You don’t want to piss me off.”

Her mother’s eyes widened and a scent drifted to Rachel’s
nose—acidic and peppery—as she took a giant step back. “What has he done to
you?”

“He hasn’t done anything to me.” She could have shared the
truth with the woman who’d done a piss-poor job of raising her but she didn’t.
Cindy didn’t deserve it. Not after everything her mother had done in the last
decade.

“Don’t lie. I know what he is. I should have recognized it
from the start—tanned, big, enormous muscles.” Her mother’s gaze drifted to the
blood on the floor. “But I didn’t put two and two together until I saw his
eyes. You didn’t either, did you? You brought him home and he changed you
somehow.” Giving Declan a hateful look, she hissed, “He said he was your
husband. Is that what they call it when they bite a human? Do you have any idea
what he’s done?”

“They call it mating, actually.” For a moment she considered
telling Cindy about Chloe and Jackson. The pair intended to marry to appease
Chloe’s grandparents, even though being mated was union enough for the pack.
Ultimately she decided not to, figuring her mother would hear the news when she
visited a bar and got wind of the town gossip. “I was bitten, but not by him.
Instead of being bitchy you might want to thank him for saving my life.”

Rachel braced herself and looked at Declan. She told herself
it didn’t matter if he felt sorry for her. Most people did. To her surprise he
didn’t look as though he pitied her. He looked pissed off, his gaze homed on
her mother, his irises a bright shade of gold.

“We’ll go to the hospital.” Cindy stepped toward Rachel
again. “They can help you. There has to be something they can do.”

“There’s nothing they can do,” Declan growled, shifting
closer to them. “Human medicine won’t prevent what’s happening. The bite took
hold. It’s in her blood.”

“What
is
happening?” her mother asked, glaring at
him.

“I’m becoming one of them,” Rachel answered, trying not to
let her fear at the thought show. “When the full moon comes, I’ll change.”

“No!” As her mother shouted she rushed to the phone. “I’m
calling the police. They’ll make him leave and we’ll sort this out.” When
Rachel started walking away she screamed, “I’ll file a missing persons report.
You can leave but you won’t be able to hide.”

Declan stepped between the women, facing Rachel’s irate
parent. “I want you to listen to me,” he warned, voice soft but clear. “We’re
going to walk out that door. As soon as we do I’m contacting my Alpha, who’ll
contact our people. Once he does the police will find out this is a pack
matter. They’ll tell you what they tell every human who gets involved with our
kind—there’s nothing they can do to help you.”