Layla Nash - A Valentine's Chase (City Shifters: the Pride) (5 page)

R
afe thought
he was making progress with Meadow when the door opened and a rogue wolf leapt through the door. It bounded at Meadow and something broke in Rafe's head. He didn't mean to shift, didn't mean to reveal that side of himself, but there was no other way to save her. He met the intruder, teeth to teeth, and fought it back despite sudden spikes of pain in his shoulder where the bastard struck home. Rafe snarled and the pack rushed forward.

Which was just as well, because the intruder wasn't alone. More wolves poured through the door, and Rafe fought harder, trying to keep them away from Meadow even as his paws slid on the bloody floor. Ruby howled and threw a table across the bar before launching into her wolf form. One of the pack members who remained human scrambled to the door and slammed it shut, barricading it so no one else could get in. And no one could get out.

Rafe concentrated only on the next wolf to fight, blood filling his mouth, and put down a third or fourth wolf. There seemed to be dozens of them, snapping and snarling and foaming at the mouth, and he had a split second to wonder if they were diseased or high. There was no other reason for a pack of shifters to change and run into a bar in a heavily-populated part of the city on a Friday night. At least there weren't any humans left in the bar. Except for Meadow and Smith.

A roar shook the bar as Carter finally got pissed off enough to change to his lion form, and a gold streak distracted Rafe just as one of the wolves drove into his side and knocked him off his feet. He snarled and fought back, panic restricting his chest as he caught sight of Meadow fending off a beast with one of her crutches. Rafe charged the bastard, hating that Meadow screamed and tried to jump onto the bar despite the weight of her cast, and wrenched the wolf away. Blood dripped into his eyes and Rafe shook his head, looking around at the disaster being made of his bar.

The intruders kept fighting, regardless of how many wounds and broken bones they sustained. They just wouldn't stop. He crouched in front of Meadow and braced himself to kill as many wolves as it took to protect her. Carter the lion slid and crashed through half a dozen tables, turning them into kindling, and something else rushed the door from the outside. Rafe snarled. He'd die before any of them touched Meadow. Before any got close enough to really look at her.

Just as Rafe prepared to go down fighting two mad-eyed wolves, an eerie whistle started on the other side of the bar. He didn't dare look away from the intruders, but a pearlescent glow filled the room until it blinded him. A voice that shook like thunder rolled through the bar and almost knocked him off his feet, and every one of the enemy wolves dropped to the ground. Dead.

Rafe blinked to clear his vision as the glow faded, and saw Smith standing among the broken tables, his hands raised. The man had never looked so terrifying. Rafe's hackles rose and a growl vibrated through his chest, and he retreated closer to Meadow. Just in case.

Smith shook himself and the glow disappeared, the wind died down, and everything in the bar turned to silence. Except for Meadow, practically hyperventilating where she sat half-on the bar. Rafe braced himself and forced himself back to human form. Being alpha came first, at least for now. Once he could talk, he started issuing orders to the rest of the pack to clean up, check the perimeter, and figure out a defense in case any more of the intruders showed up.

Sirens rose in the distance and he cursed, turning to survey the damage. If the cops showed up, there was no way to explain the dead wolves, the blood, and the broken furniture. But mostly the wolves. He snapped and everyone changed, working silently to drag the wolf bodies into the storeroom. Ruby and Carter limped upstairs and threw down clothes so everyone could at least put on sweatpants, old jeans, or coveralls. He dragged on sweatpants and finally approached Meadow, even though he could feel the strength draining out of him as his wounds bled.

"Meadow," he said, and his voice rasped into nothingness. The rest of the room grew dark as he focused on her, concentrating all of his remaining strength on staying on his feet and close to her. She still looked panicked, on the verge of falling apart, and he hated it. He wanted to hold her, to reassure her, but when he shuffled a step closer, she sucked in a frightened breath and nearly fell off the back of the bar.

"Let me." Smith brushed past him and held out a hand to Meadow, though something about him seemed to radiate static and gave Rafe goose bumps.

The wolf growled as Smith did the work Rafe wanted to do, but at least Meadow slid down from the bar and leaned against the investigator. The sirens grew louder and Rafe cursed, trying to formulate an explanation. "Okay, guys. There was a brawl. College aged white dudes, probably drunk frat guys, mixed it up. We stopped them, threw them out, but the damage was done. That's the story. Got it?"

The pack nodded and a few tried to repair chairs enough to sit down, and two retrieved the over-stuffed medical bag from the back room. Rafe wanted desperately to explain to Meadow, to reassure her, but there wasn't time. Instead, he nodded at the back staircase, past the bathrooms and storeroom, and said tersely to Smith, "Probably better if you guys wait upstairs until the cops leave. There's a couch in the living room where she can put her leg up."

"Very well." Smith hardly blinked as he helped Meadow with the crutches, as if he saw wolf brawls every night, and they disappeared up the stairs just as the flashing lights of the police cruisers pulled up outside.

Rafe braced himself for a long night, and tried to wipe some of the blood off his chest with a bar towel as he limped toward the barred door to let the cops in. No telling which of their neighbors called the cops. Most of the bars and businesses in the area did better when cops weren't involved. Although seeing a pack of wolves racing into the bar might have pushed the bounds of acceptability. He rubbed his temples at an odd rushing sound in his ears, tasting blood, and braced himself on the wall before he pitched face-first into the bar.

Ruby took one look at him, at the wounds all over his chest, and shook her head. "Nope. You're going upstairs, too."

"I don't —"

"You're about to pass out," she said under her breath, so the pack wouldn't hear. No use telegraphing his weaknesses. Then she raised her voice and slapped his shoulder. "Go upstairs and make sure your mate is okay; we can handle the cops."

When Rafe tried to object, she gave him the no-nonsense look he recognized from their mother, and he knew he'd already lost. So he concentrated on striding toward the back hall as some of his guys cheered and clapped, every inch of him cold and clammy with desperate adrenaline and panic. She'd almost been injured. Could have been killed. And all because of those fucking rogue wolves.

He used the handrail to haul himself up the last few steps, and fell through the door into the shared apartment. Meadow looked up in panic as he walked in, and Smith rose from where he sat on the coffee table in front of her, clearly trying to explain. Smith frowned. "Young man, you don't look well."

"I'm fine," he said, then the ground rushed up and everything went dark.

A
fter all hell broke loose
, everything got blurry and confused. It looked like wolves raced into the bar and then suddenly Rafe was also a wolf, and everyone else turned into wolves, and they fought until blood spattered everything. When one lunged at me, I tried to climb over the bar as the wolf I thought was Rafe skidded in between me and the snarling beast. There might have been a lion.

And then Uncle Smith stood up and started glowing, raised his hands, and all the bad wolves just fell down. Everyone started turning human again and then the bar filled with naked men and a couple of women, including Rafe's sister, who had a lot of piercings. A
lot
.

I definitely shouldn't have sipped that beer.

My cheeks burned when Rafe approached, naked, covered in open wounds and blood, and I tried to focus on his face. Whatever he said passed me by in a weird roaring, even though I focused on his mouth and tried to read his lips, but nothing seemed to work. It was only when Smith took my arm and helped me up the stairs in the back hallway that I started to feel normal. By the time we reached a large living room behind a simple door and I collapsed on a battered leather sofa in the middle of the room, I was almost okay with having seen people turn into animals. If that was what actually happened. I crossed my fingers in the hope that it was just another hallucination. I wouldn't mind a break in rehab for exhaustion if it meant all of that craziness hadn't happened and there really weren't people who turned into animals.

Smith didn't say anything for a long time as he fussed over me, helping prop my cast up on the arm of the sofa and a couple of pillows, and retrieved ice packs from the small kitchen across from the living room. Then he eased onto the coffee table next to the couch and took a deep breath as he looked at me. "Well, today has been somewhat more eventful than I planned. We'll wait up here for a bit, at least until the police depart, then I'll take you back to your apartment."

"You don't seem surprised by this. By — them. What they turned into." I tried to form complete sentences but my thoughts clicked along too slowly. For as much time as I spent in the new age book store, reading tarot cards for tourists and some regulars, it never occurred to me to think that
that
sort of magic actually existed in the world. "And you — glowed."

"Mmm. Yes. I supposed I did." He frowned, and for a second, his pupils grew vertical, like a cat's. I held my breath. He didn't deny it. He agreed. He'd seen it all too. Smith rubbed his jaw and finally laughed a little. "I'd hoped not to have this conversation with you for a long time, Meadow, if at all. I am not — entirely human. There are many people in this city who are not human — shifters, some witches, different sorts of fae."

"F-fae?" It could still all be a product of the pain meds from the hospital. That sip of beer could have triggered some weird interaction and caused me to hallucinate all of this, including Smith telling me he wasn't human. My mother always said I had an over-active imagination. "What do you mean?"

"Fae, what most people call faerie. There are many types of fae." Half of his mouth curled up in something close to a smile. "But we can discuss that a bit later, if you're interested."

"Who are you?" I asked in a bare whisper. Everything I knew about the world grew shaky and uncertain. It was worse than the first time I'd ever told a psychiatrist the things I heard and saw, and I saw the expression of someone who really, truly thought I was crazy. My hands trembled as I brushed hair out of my face. "
What
are you?"

"I am your Uncle Smith," he said, catching my hand in his and squeezing my fingers. "Dear Meadow, there is a lot I need to tell you. You are not entirely human either."

Everything in me went still. Not human? I stared at him, trying to come up with something to say. Anything. But nothing worked. I might have sat there for hours, frozen in disbelief, but the door creaked open.

I bolted upright, ready to flee if another wolf came charging up the stairs, but instead Rafe tottered around the corner and into the living room. He looked terrible — gray-faced, breathing unevenly and with a weird whistling noise, and blood drenching almost every visible inch of him. Smith got to his feet and immediately reached for him, but Rafe stared at me with such intensity my heart skipped. He took a single step, reaching out for me, and fell flat on his face.

Smith cursed under his breath and shook his head, saying something about stupid young men, and he caught Rafe's arm. He dragged him up and managed to support Rafe, draping his arm over his shoulders, and nodded at one of the doors that led away from the living room. "That's his room. Would you open the door for me, Meadow?"

Right. I unstuck myself from the couch, though part of me remained riveted to the "you're not human" conversation, and limped over to the door. I turned the light on and hurried to the bed, dragging the blankets and sheets back until Smith could lower Rafe on his back onto the clean, cream-colored sheets. I flushed just at being in Rafe's room, and jumped when Smith glanced around and headed back toward the living room. "He should be healing faster. We might need help. But for now, I'll get the first aid kit. Just keep him quiet, Meadow."

Keep him quiet. How the hell would I do that? The man was unconscious, his chest rising and falling in bare increments, and I was too scared to touch him. I hated blood. I really hated blood. And I hated seeing Rafe — gorgeous, intimidating, strong Rafe — helpless as a newborn kitten and slowly bleeding his life away. For the first time ever, I really hoped it was all a product of my imagination.

I swallowed trepidation and sat on the bed next to him, trying not to notice the furnishings and the private details that told me more about him than he'd had a chance to himself. The furniture was simple but clearly quality, reinforced by the softness of the sheets. They had to be a ridiculous thread-count. It looked like the kind of bed where you could nap all afternoon. Even what I could see through the open door to his closet was neat and tidy. Orderly, like he'd said.

He wasn't nearly so scary while unconscious. My fingers trembled as I touched his shoulder, surprised at the burning heat in his skin, and I jumped as Smith reappeared. He dropped a large black bag on the bed next to Rafe and started unloading supplies. He tossed me gauze and bandages and antibacterial cream, and said, "Start on that side."

We worked in silence, starting with Rafe's chest, then rolling him to his side so Smith could bandage his back. I held Rafe propped up, touching his face, and almost dropped him and fell off the bed when he moved. Rafe's hand slid over the sheets, searching for something, and he groaned. Smith frowned at me as he tried to attach an enormous bandage to a wicked series of claw marks on Rafe's lower back. "Talk to him, Meadow."

I cleared my throat and tried to think of something that didn't sound stupid. Rafe's eyes opened and searched the room, unfocused and desperate, and the breath rattled in his throat. He tried to sit up, tried to move, and I panicked. I caught his face in my hands. "Hey. Don't move. Just relax. We're almost done."

"Meadow," he said, a rough exhale, and he went limp again. But he didn't struggle. His hand found mine and squeezed, and I flushed even more as I squeezed back. Even if he did turn into a wolf, he'd tried to protect me. He'd jumped between me and at least two other wolves, and gotten injured as a result. It was my fault he lay on that bed, bleeding.

My vision blurred and I couldn't breathe, choking on tears and guilt. My fault.

Rafe groaned and tried to lift his head, reaching for me with his other hand. "It's okay."

I laughed, though it was a little teary, and I touched his face. He was the one injured and hurting, and he tried to reassure me. I patted his cheek, flushing to think that Uncle Smith sat right there, smiling to himself, as I sort of flirted with Rafe. "I'm sorry you got hurt, Rafe."

"Just a scratch," he said, a husky breath of sound. His eyes remained closed but a hint of a smile touched his mouth. "Worth it."

"Who were they? Who were those — wolves?" I tripped over the word, still not wanting to admit that there might actually be people in the world who turned into animals. And that I sat next to one and held his hand and tried not to picture him gloriously naked. Fine-boned and strapped with muscle. I shivered.

Rafe's expression tightened and he shook his head. "Don't worry. I'll handle it."

"There is a rival pack outside the city. They've been trying to take over the O'Shea pack territory for a month or so now. No doubt this was another attempt," Smith said, taping the last bandage across Rafe's side and back. He gestured at me and I helped ease Rafe to his back. My uncle eyed me for a moment, then arched an eyebrow. "There are several wounds on his legs that I should treat. Keep your eyes forward, young lady."

I laughed but my cheeks caught fire. Rafe cracked an eye open and glared at Smith. "Don't embarrass her."

I winced as I tried to adjust my leg and cast, and bit my lip to keep from complaining as the meds started to wear off. My ankle throbbed again, getting worse, but it paled in comparison to what Rafe no doubt suffered. But I concentrated on Rafe's face as Smith removed his sweatpants and started to bandage the long slices and gouges in his legs.

Rafe winced and reached for my hand again, sighing when he finally captured it. He took a deep breath. "BadCreek has never been this violent. Usually they're underhanded and sneaky. A full assault on the bar, on a Friday night, when they know most of the pack will be here, is absurd. It's suicide."

"They went straight for you," Smith said, and I resisted the urge to turn and check his progress as tape tore and bandage wrappers crinkled. "If they knocked you off, they'd stand a much better chance of taking over the pack. Once the pack is beheaded and leaderless, they could probably cultivate one of your betas to help them take over peacefully. A smart strategy, if they'd succeeded."

I tried to concentrate through the increasing pain in my ankle and the odd fluttering in my stomach from the way Rafe's hand periodically tightened on mine, as if reassuring himself that he still touched me. None of what they said made sense. A rival pack? Targeting an alpha?

Smith cleared his throat. "All done."

Rafe exhaled. "It wasn't a smart strategy."

"No kidding," I said under my breath, and he smiled again.

But he also forced an eye open to search for Smith. "They forgot about Ruby. And about Carter. They hadn't planned on him. And even if they'd managed to finish me off, Ruby is still alpha so the pack would have continued under her leadership."

"So it seems." Smith frowned, rubbing his jaw. "We should probably gather the Council."

"Council?" I finally had to ask, my brain hurting too much from trying to follow them. "What Council?"

"There's a Council for all the alphas in the city," Rafe said, and his hand rested on my leg, just above the cast. "Ruby and I are on it, so is Carter's brother. Smith is a consulting member. If any issues come up among the shifters, the Council tries to handle it before it gets out of hand. But BadCreek has gotten out of hand."

"Very much so. They've endangered my life, as well as my niece's." Smith's expression hardened as he packed up the first aid bag. He looked scarier than I could ever remember seeing him.

"Did any of them escape before we barred the door?" Rafe lifted his head, looking somewhat more clear-eyed. I leaned to place another pillow under his head, and flushed more as he smiled at me. Holy hell, that man had a beautiful smile.

"I don't know," Smith said. "We can probably check the cameras outside, but we have to assume at least one was able to get in and back out again. Why?"

Rafe's hand tightened on my wrist, then ghosted over my leg, just above my knee. "Because they saw me defending Meadow. They know she's important."

I blinked, then shook my head. "I'm not important. What are you — what do you mean?"

Smith pinched the bridge of his nose, and his words came out low and cold. "Damn it, Rafe. This is exactly what I warned you about. You've endangered her."

"I protected her," Rafe said, going up on his elbows as fury animated him. The bandages gapped and bunched, and more than one spotted with blood. "It's not my fault that —"

"You claimed her in front of them." Smith's eyes did the weird thing again and his hands started to look incandescent. "You fought for her. Now she's marked, and they will use her as a pawn against you. She's in danger, and even I may not be able to protect her."

"She's my mate." Rafe snarled and his grip crushed my thigh. "She won't be in danger.
I
will protect her."

"She's in danger precisely
because
she's your mate." Smith's teeth grew smaller and pointier, and my heart jumped to my throat.

I couldn't breathe. Mate? I lurched to my feet and almost fell as the cast tangled with my good leg. "What the hell are you two talking about?"

"Everyone take a deep breath," someone said from the doorway, and when I looked up, Ruby stood there with her arms folded and the giant blonde guy behind her. Ruby frowned as she edged past Smith, though she gave him plenty of room, and held out her hand to me. "Come on. Let's go sit in the living room before we both drown in all the testosterone."

Rafe growled as he kept a tight grip on my hand and my breath caught as Ruby's eyes got a dangerous glint. I suddenly knew what a chew toy felt like, caught between two dogs. Smith's eyes darkened and a sudden static filled the room. I braced for the lightning strike.