Loyal Wolf (26 page)

Hoping to rile her into hitting him again, like some kind of masochist—though he was pretty sure he just wanted to feel her hands on him—his lips curled in a cocky smirk. “You have no idea what I do best. You only got
part
of the show, if you'll recall.”

“Not interested,” she grunted in response to his silky, suggestive tone, before taking a drink of her Scotch. She winced as she swallowed the smoky alcohol, then wiped her mouth and shot his cocky expression right back at him. “And let's face it, Eli. The only thing you've ever done well is kill.”

“Ouch, Reyes. If I didn't know better,” he murmured, clucking his tongue, “I'd say you don't like me anymore.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just get your band of Merry Men together and let's get out of here.”

“Merry Men?” he snorted. “I'm no bloody Robin Hood.”

She smirked. “Yeah, what was I thinking? The idea of giving something to the less fortunate is probably a little sappy for a guy like you.”

“A guy like me?”

Lifting her brows, she said, “You know, the big bad mercenary who doesn't give a shit about anything or anyone, except for how much they can pay him. I hear you've cultivated the reputation well.”

Irritation burned through his veins, not easy to hide. But he managed with a lazy grin and a slow drawl. “You shouldn't believe everything you hear. A lot of men will lie when it suits them.”

“Oh, God.” She suddenly started to laugh so hard it made him scowl. Wiping the tears from her glittering eyes, she finally managed to splutter, “D-don't I know it.”

Hell, he'd walked right into that one.

A fraction of his control began to slip, his hands flexing as he fought the urge to reach out and grab her, yanking her into his lap. “You're pushing it, Reyes.”

Her laughter faded, and she kept her gaze on the Scotch as she swirled it in her glass. “If you're uncomfortable with my attitude or reactions,” she murmured, “then I gotta tell you that I don't really care. I'm not here to make you feel better, or to talk about the past.” She stopped swirling her drink, her dark gaze lifting, locking with his. “I'm here because your family needs you. You do recall that you have a brother and sister, right? And I can only imagine they have a hell of a lot to say to you right now, considering you haven't been returning their calls.” She pushed back from the table and gave him a look that would probably scare a lot of men into doing whatever the hell she wanted them to. “Now get off your ass and let's get out of here.”

“No,” he rasped. “Not until you answer a few of
my
questions.”

“Like we have the time,” she started to argue, but he cut her off.

“We have as much time as we need, because I'm not going anywhere until you fucking spill.” He took a deep swallow of his whiskey, and waited for her to bring her chair back to the table, before asking, “You came here alone?”

“Of course.” At the look on his face, she said, “What? You thought someone needed to come with me and hold my hand?”

His jaw got tighter. “Why now?”

She glared back at him as if she couldn't understand what his problem was. “War isn't enough of a reason?”

“From what I've understood from Eric's messages, the Silvercrest have been in trouble for a while now.”

“With no help from you, huh?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Like I said, I was planning to head back.”

“Right. How kind of you.”

“Why
now,
Reyes? Why
you?
You didn't rush out and try to track me down months ago, when this all started. So tell me the truth. Why— Now?”

She held his stare, and he could tell she was planning on just waiting him out, until she let herself really look him in the eye. Whatever she saw there, whether it was anger or his sheer determination—it made her frown deepen. Forcing the words out between her quickening breaths, she told him, “It was the right time. I felt...raw. And I suddenly
knew
I could find you. When I was in danger, the bond started to pull at me—”

“So you feel it, too?” he cut in sharply, interrupting her explanation. His heart started trying to pound its way through his chest with hard, violent beats, and it was all he could do to stay in his damn chair in his relaxed pose, instead of surging to his feet and grabbing her shoulders, demanding she tell him
everything
.

Still scowling, she cast a wary look toward the hand still holding his glass, as if surprised it hadn't shattered in his brutal grip. Her chin lifted in assent.

“I've wondered about that.” He tossed back his drink, slamming the empty glass onto the table, while his thoughts churned. He felt pain, frustration, loss. But mostly rage. A deep, seething rage for everything that had happened, and why.

He cleared his throat, his hooded gaze locked in hard and tight on her face, trying to read her expression. The bond should have enabled him to feel her emotions as easily as his own, but it didn't, because it was only half-formed. He'd realized that right from the start, though it'd taken time to sort out exactly how the partially formed bond would affect him. And it'd kept him up at nights, wondering if Carla was being affected in the same way.

When he couldn't get a damn thing from the look on her face, Eli lowered his gaze to the table and heard himself saying, “For what it's worth, I didn't even realize the bond had taken hold until almost a week after I left. By that time, I was already in South America.”

When he looked up to see her reaction to his confession, she turned her head to the side and laughed again. The sound was hollow and heavy, sounding as exhausted as she looked. “Well,” she murmured. “I guess it's good to know I'm not the only one stuck in this hell.”

His jaw tightened, but he forced out a slow breath, not wanting to rise to her bait. And she was definitely baiting him, spoiling for a fight. Damn it, he was handling this all wrong, but it was like a train wreck he couldn't stop from happening right in front of him. He was pissed at how badly he wanted her. At how fucking sexy she looked. How angry she was at him.

Knowing he needed to change the subject, he asked, “What were you in danger from?”

Her mouth flattened with irritation, as if she hadn't meant to let that bit slip out either, her reluctance making him even more suspicious. He could feel it in his gut, the fact that there was something she didn't want to tell him. “I'll sit here all damn night and wait you out if I have to,” he threatened in a low voice. “But you're going to answer that question.”

She took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring a little, and he felt the pull down in his lower body get even tighter as he wondered if she could scent him the way he could scent her. Not just on a Lycan level, but one that went even deeper. And if she could, was it affecting her, making her hungry for something only
he
could give her?

Her head dropped back on her shoulders, then dropped forward, and he could have sworn he heard her give a soft growl. Then she lifted her head, looking right at him, and nervously licked her lips. “I know Eric's been leaving you messages at a number he had for you, asking you to come home. Didn't he tell you about Elise?”

Because he was so often in places where cell phone coverage was nonexistent, and hadn't had a permanent base since leaving the pack, Eli had used a couple of different messaging services for both work and his family. It was one of those numbers that Eric had been calling.

Answering her question, he said, “I haven't heard from Eric the last couple of weeks. He sounded pretty pissed off in his last message, because I hadn't returned any of his calls. But I wasn't in a situation where I could talk to him,” he explained, which was only partially true. “What is it you think he should have told me about Elise? Is she all right?”

“Two weeks ago, Elise was kidnapped by Sebastian Claymore.”

He shot forward to the edge of his seat. “Was she hurt? What the hell happened?”

From what he'd been able to piece together from Eric's messages, Eli knew that a Lycan named Roy Claymore had assumed control of the Whiteclaw pack, and Sebastian and Harris Claymore were his nephews. Eric's last message had mentioned something about Harris being under suspicion for hassling their sister, Elise, and that had been enough for Eli to know he needed to get his affairs in order so that he could head back, even though he'd known it would mean facing Carla. Elise had already been through too much not to have her brothers there looking out for her. He just hadn't realized the situation would escalate so quickly. Had thought he still had time to make it back, before he was needed.

“She's fine, Eli. She made it out of there that same day, and she wasn't...they didn't hurt her.”

“Eric mentioned that the Runners were having trouble with the Whiteclaw, but said he'd go into more detail when I got in touch with him. What exactly did the Claymores want with her?”

“It's a long story, and not one for someplace this crowded. She was scared, but she wasn't harmed. I made sure to give them a hard enough time that it kept them busy.”

“You were with her?” he asked sharply, while the mother of all headaches started pounding in his temples.

“I was taken as well,” she murmured, clearly not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “They were able to sneak up on us, and we were taken back to Hawkley together.”

They'd taken his woman and his sister to Hawkley, the Whiteclaw pack's hometown? A place where they would have been surrounded by those bastards?

Oh, hell, those sons of bitches are gonna die.

There were about a million questions he wanted answers to, but Eli scraped out the most important one first: “Did they touch you?”

The idea of her in danger—a danger he hadn't been able to sense because of the weakness of their bond—was too much for him, making his inner beast seethe for release. His gums ached from the heavy weight of his fangs, the tips of his fingers burning as his claws prickled beneath his skin. He couldn't believe he was a fraction away from shifting in the middle of a goddamn human bar, but that's how this woman had always affected him, making him do things he'd never thought he would otherwise do.

Instead of tensing up and getting riled by his demanding tone, her posture had relaxed, one lightly muscled arm hooked over the back of her chair. “That isn't something that should concern you.”

“Did they touch you?” he asked again, his voice now little more than a snarl.

Cocking her head a bit to the side, she studied him through her lashes. After a heavy silence, she finally said, “I would have been raped if I hadn't managed to get free. As it was, I just got knocked around a bit.”

He wanted to roar at how casual she sounded about that, when it made him want to go for the blood of every Lycan who'd hit her, gleefully ripping them apart, one painful piece at a time. “How did you get away?”

“I knew that when the Runners realized we were missing, Wyatt would—” She paused suddenly, giving him a strange look. “Uh, when Eric left you messages, did he happen to mention that Elise and Wyatt Pallaton are bonded now?”

“I didn't know it'd happened, but Eric thought it was headed that way.”

He could tell she was trying to figure out how he felt about his sister permanently attaching herself to the male who was Carla's Bloodrunning partner, but he didn't know. Until he saw the two of them together, he wasn't forming an opinion. If Pallaton treated his sister right and made her happy, he'd have no issue with him. If he didn't, Eli was going to kick his ass. It was as simple as that.

Reaching for her glass again, she said, “Anyway, I knew Wyatt and the others were coming, but there was no way they would get to her if I didn't create a distraction. So that's what I did.”

“And afterward?” he pressed, sensing that she was leaving out a hell of a lot. He had a strong suspicion her distraction had required her to put her own life at even greater risk to save his sister's, and it made him both grateful and viciously angry.

She downed the last of her drink, and set the glass back on the table. “While I was making my escape, I heard some things that compelled me to steal some money and a car and come after you.”

“To drag me back home. For the pack.”

She gave him a look that would have wilted a lesser man. “It sure as hell isn't because I want you there.”

“What did you hear?” he demanded, noticing the discoloration on her cheekbone as she turned her head and the light caught it. It was a healing bruise, and based on how many days since she'd gotten it, he knew it must have initially been brutal. Lycans had accelerated healing abilities, and though she was only half wolf, her body healed much faster than a human's. Given the look of her face now, Eli imagined she'd been more than knocked around a little, and he was looking forward to paying back the ones who were responsible. In blood and pain and death.

“Before I left Hawkley,” she finally replied, bringing that dark gaze back to his, “I overheard some of the Whiteclaw soldiers talking about their plans for the Silvercrest. They haven't managed to secure the number of soldiers they were hoping for from other packs, so they've come up with a new plan. One even deadlier than we'd feared. Since you said Eric didn't go into a lot of detail in his messages, it sounds like there's a lot you need to be brought up to speed on. But you can believe me when I say we need a miracle, Eli. Unfortunately, the only thing we've got on our side, other than my guys, is you.”

He knew who she meant by her “guys.” There were five men who made up the Silvercrest's Bloodrunning team: Mason Dillinger, Jeremy Burns, Brody Carter, Wyatt Pallaton, and Cian Hennessey. Actually, he needed to make that six men, since his brother Eric was now working as a Runner, though the last Eli had heard, his brother wasn't partnered up yet the way the others were.