Darkmoon (#5) (The Cain Chronicles) (7 page)

Rylie moved to follow him, but Stephanie blocked her. “Get out of my way,” Rylie said. “He’s challenging my dominance!”

“And you’re hardly in a position to fight back. As your doctor, I forbid it.” Stephanie washed her hands at the sink, dried them on a towel, and grabbed her jacket off the back of a chair. “You’re officially off Alpha duty. If that means letting Levi have the pack, then let him have it.”

“But—”

“No buts. I’m serious.” Stephanie jerked her jacket closed, gave Rylie a stern look, and marched out the back door.

“No,” Rylie said, even though there was nobody left for her to argue with. “He
can’t
have my pack.”

“Stephanie’s right, babe. This isn’t the time to be fighting with anyone.” Aunt Gwyn lifted the mug to her lips without drinking, as if relishing the smell. “But there’s an Alpha male wandering around who can.”

Rylie bit her lip and flipped over the scans again. Stephanie had taken several pictures, including one that was meant to show the babies’ faces. They were too blurry to tell if either of them actually had noses and mouths, much less whether they resembled Seth or Abel.

Gwyn was right. Abel
would
be happy to fight Levi.

“I think he’s gone,” Rylie said. “He got in a fight with Seth this morning.”

“Then you know what you have to do if you want to keep your pack.” Her aunt stood and emptied her coffee into the sink. “Get him back.”

Rylie found Seth near the
gate at the bottom of the hill. She opened her mouth to call for him, but stopped when she realized that he was deep in conversation with a stranger.

She approached them cautiously, one hand on her stomach as if she could protect her babies by touching them. This stranger was tall and muscular with eyes like shards of sapphire and hair to his shoulders. His skin was the kind of tan that came from spending long hours in the sun. He was almost as big as Abel, and looked like a cross between a biker and a bodybuilder.

He also smelled like wolf.

Her hackles lifted at the sight of him. She let out a growl before she could stop herself.

The sound made both men look over at her. “So this is Rylie, I take it,” said the new werewolf. He had a deep, rolling Southern accent that sounded like melted chocolate. She barely heard him. There was something extremely dominant about the new wolf, and her inner Alpha was rising to the challenge.

“This is Rylie,” Seth confirmed. The new man lowered his eyes, hunched his shoulders, and slowly dropped to one knee. It was a submissive posture, meant to appease her. It worked. Her fists relaxed, and Seth took her hand. “His name’s Brody. I told you he was going to join us a few weeks ago. Remember?”

She took several deep, calming breaths before responding. Her fingernails ached, which was a bad sign. Those were usually the first things to go when she wolfed out. “I forgot about that. Is he…safe?”

“There are no odd tattoos.”

Brody glanced up at Seth without standing. “I’ve got more than a few tats.” Rylie’s gaze dropped to his hands. Sleeves covered his arms, but she could see tribal patterns all the way onto his knuckles.

“But nothing bloody,” Seth said, referring to the bleeding apple tattoos that all of Cain’s followers wore.

Rylie nodded and checked her fingernails. They were secure. “It’s good you got here safely,” she said, forcing herself to smile. Gwyn would smack her upside the head if she didn’t display appropriate manners to a guest. “Especially considering how everything’s been since the senator got assassinated. What were you two talking about down here?”

“We were making arrangements,” Seth said. “Brody has special skills we can use.”

“Special skills?”

It was Brody who responded. “My background is in personal security. Bodyguardin’, to be precise. I’ve been asked to keep you safe, ma’am.”

She was torn between shock at the idea of a bodyguard and confusion at having someone ten years her senior calling her “ma’am.” Seth caught her confused expression and gave her a gentle hug. “I can’t always be here to protect you, Rylie. As long as we’re dealing with all of this unrest, I’d feel a lot better knowing there’s someone to watch your back.”

“A bodyguard? But I don’t
want
a bodyguard.”

Brody stood slowly—no sudden movements. “I assure you, I am very discreet.”

“Seth? Can we talk?” Her voice was a full octave higher than usual.

They stepped a few feet away, and Brody politely turned his back. It was more for show than anything else. Werewolves had great hearing, and they would have had to be on opposite sides of the property in order to really speak privately.

“What’s wrong?” Seth asked.

“I wouldn’t need a bodyguard if you’d just let Abel protect me,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I don’t want some strange guy following me around!”

“Rylie—”

She jabbed him in the chest with a finger. “I want you, and I want Abel. That’s it. And I’m
really
going to need Abel if I want to stop Levi’s new megalomaniac streak. Abel has to take over as Alpha.”

“But Abel left.”

“Because you attacked him!”

“Can you blame me? I’ve been putting up with him for
years
.”

“You’ll have to deal with a few more months,” Rylie said. “Fix this. Go find your brother and bring him back.
Now
.” She glanced at Brody over Seth’s shoulder and saw that he was still facing the other way. “And I am not taking a bodyguard!”

She whirled and stomped up the snowy path to the house without waiting to see if Seth obeyed.

S
EVEN

Come Back to Me

Abel got all the way
into town before he really thought about what he was doing. He had walked away from Seth and Rylie blinded by rage and the urge to protect Rylie from his brother, which didn’t even make any sense. She wasn’t in danger from Seth.

He just didn’t want to share her anymore.

Abel had dressed in clothes that he kept in the trunk of the Chevelle—a loose t-shirt, jeans, and steel-toed boots—and immediately gone into town. He was still fuming after the twenty minute drive. And it was only then that he realized he had left Rylie behind while she was having contractions, and probably needed him.

“Hell,” he muttered, pulling the Chevelle into the grocery store parking lot. He didn’t want to buy anything; it just happened to be the easiest place to get out of traffic. Abel had no idea where to go after that.

Part of him wanted to turn around and check on Rylie. But an equally large part of him was much too angry at Seth.

“He’ll take care of her,” he growled under his breath, hands clenched tight on the steering wheel.

That felt wrong—letting someone else take care of his mate.

Even if Rylie did happen to be Seth’s fiancée.

A girl walking out of the grocery store caught his eye. Crystal was plump in all of the right places, and wearing the same tiny denim shorts that she always wore, even though it was freezing outside. She had swapped out her high-tops for Ugg boots and put on a scarf, but there was still more bare skin than cloth.

Her gaze landed on the Chevelle. She headed over, grocery bag in hand, and Abel rolled down the window.

Crystal bent over to brace her elbows on the door, which gave him a really good view of all that cleavage. “You aren’t looking for me, are you?” she asked. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

A couple years ago, before he knew Rylie, Abel probably would have been looking for someone just like her. But now, all he said was, “How did you get into town?”

She smirked. “I ran. It was refreshing.” Crystal somehow managed to make that sound like a very dirty suggestion. “I sure would like a ride back.”

Abel gave a small laugh. He wasn’t exactly an educated man, but he also wasn’t stupid. He knew when someone was trying to flirt with him. But as much as he appreciated Crystal’s insane curves and her fondness for showing them off, she wasn’t his type, and she didn’t seem to get that at all.

He couldn’t exactly leave a member of the pack to walk home in tiny shorts, though. He leaned over to unlock the passenger side door. “Get in.”

She climbed in and leaned around to set her grocery bag on the backseat, which pressed the long, warm line of her body against his arm. Glass clinked as her purchase settled. “I bought some Kahlua,” she explained. “Stephanie’s been doing all the grocery shopping, and she ignores me whenever I put alcohol on the refrigerator list.”

“I know. She refuses to buy beer, too.”

Crystal twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “You look like you’re having the kind of day where you could use a beer. Want to get a drink?”

It was the best idea he had heard in days. “Now you’re talking.”

The town only had one bar, but it was good enough for Abel’s purposes. The lights were dim, so he couldn’t see who he was drinking with, and there was plenty of whiskey. Christmas lights were strung over the mirror behind the bartender, but unplugged, and he realized with a jolt that the holidays had already passed. He hadn’t even noticed. Something about the Office of Preternatural Affairs had done a heck of a job killing the Christmas spirit.

Abel ordered a round of shots to share with Crystal, and then they found a table in the back corner. The waitress that brought their shots back to them was at least fifty years old, although she dressed a lot like Crystal, and her cherry red dye job failed to hide her graying roots. She set the drinks down, took Abel’s tip, and vanished without smiling.

“What are we drinking to?” Crystal asked, lifting a shot glass.

He picked up one of his shots and searched for a good reason to drink. He couldn’t think of any. Rylie was the only person he liked being around, and she was all but kept in a kennel by Seth. His other brother was a maniac. Gwyneth Gresham, who had given him work and a home, was the walking dead. The existence of werewolves had gone public.

“My mom,” he finally said. “May the bitch rest in pieces.”

Crystal lifted her shot, gave a small nod, and drank it. He had to give it to her: the girl took her whiskey about as well as he did. Her eyes didn’t even water.

“So what’s bothering you?” she asked, scooting her chair closer.

“Not to sound like my little brother, but…everything.”

“Say no more.” She lifted another glass. “This one’s for Cain, right?”

They drank.

One by one, the shots disappeared. They didn’t talk much. Abel didn’t have much to say to her, and Crystal seemed perfectly happy to wiggle close to his side and pet his arm. Once they were out of whiskey, they switched to tequila, and the two probably emptied an entire bottle before Abel started to feel the buzz.

The day stretched on, and the bar began to fill. A handful of people sat at the bar. Three men took the table beside theirs. The volume on the music increased, and folks started talking louder as the alcohol flowed. There were two big topics of conversation: the patrons’ shitty jobs, and the new Office of Preternatural affairs.

“I wish I could just keep drinking until the OPA disappeared,” Crystal whispered, shooting filthy looks at the neighboring table.

“You’d get alcohol poisoning first,” he said. The waitress passed, and he lifted his hand for more.

“Did you hear what they added to that awful bill? They’re trying to make it illegal for ‘preternaturals’ to have kids. Like, if a single mom starts dating a demon, protective services can take her kids away for reckless endangerment. Isn’t that jacked up?”

“It won’t pass.”

“I don’t know,” she said doubtfully, tracing her finger around the rim of a shot glass before sucking it into her mouth. “There’s a lot of support.”

“But it won’t pass,” Abel insisted, even though he couldn’t think of a particular reason why, aside from the fact that he didn’t
want
it to pass. If they considered children being around werewolves to be reckless endangerment, then it was not good news for Rylie.

Someone approached their table. Abel pulled his wallet out to pay for his drinks—but it wasn’t the waitress.

Seth stood over him, arms folded. He wore a leather jacket and a look of severe disapproval. “You wake up with Rylie and run off to drink with another woman. Some loyalty.”

Abel kicked his feet up on the table. “Who should I be loyal to? Rylie’s not
my
fiancée.”

“But you’re in love with her.”

Crystal petted Abel’s shoulder. “You got a problem, Seth? We were having a nice time until you showed up.”

“This has nothing to do with you,” Seth said. “Stay out of it.”

She turned to Abel, as if looking for him to back her up, but he only shrugged.

“Seth’s right.” He tossed the Chevelle’s keys at her. “See you later.”

Crystal slammed her last shot glass on the tray, shoved her chair back, and strutted out. Abel couldn’t help but watch her as she walked away. Those were
ridiculously
tiny shorts to wear in winter.

Seth moved to sit in the chair she had vacated, but a hard look from Abel stopped him.

“What do you want?” Abel asked.

“You have to come back to the ranch.” Saying that sounded like it was probably about as painful as extracting his own teeth, so Abel assumed that Seth must have been suckered into this shitty excuse for an apology.

“No.”

“What, do you have something better to do? Are you going to drink until you drown?”

Abel folded his arms and gave his brother a challenging look. “I was thinking I’d leave town completely.”

“You won’t do it. You’re going to come back to the ranch with me, because Rylie wants you to come back.”

“Since when do you care about that?”

“Since Levi is challenging her dominance, and Stephanie says that fighting him is dangerous for the pregnancy,” Seth said. “Rylie wants me to make up with you. She says that we need to get along so you can take over the pack as Alpha.”

So they wanted him back to fight. He would have laughed anyone else out of the bar, but if Rylie was the one who wanted him to fight—well, he would have faced down an army of were-rhinoceroses with his bare hands if she asked. So maybe he was the biggest sucker of all.