Savage Urges (7 page)

Her wolf, who was just as protective by nature as Makenna, wanted to hunt him down and tear him apart. Makenna approved of the idea. Sick fuckers like him didn’t have the right to exist—it was really that simple. But getting onto his land, bypassing his wolves, and getting the opportunity to end his life . . .
not
so simple. That didn’t stop her from fantasizing about it.

As she looked up, her eyes collided with Ryan’s all-too-perceptive gaze. He knew what she was thinking. She wondered if he knew just how little it would bother her conscience to take Remy’s life, wondered how hard he’d judge her for it. She decided she didn’t want to know. “We can’t tell Zac about this. We can’t tell anybody in the shelter. Many of them are here to escape abusive environments. They’ll run if they find out this rumor about Remy.”

“I agree,” said Madisyn, cheeks flushed with anger. “They need to feel safe here.”

“Has Remy tried to bribe your mediator friend?” Dawn asked Taryn, her voice shaky.

Taryn shook her head. “But I strongly suspect that he will. It won’t work.”

“Do you think he’ll try to pick a fight at the meeting?” Madisyn asked.

Taryn snorted. “Not if he likes breathing. Ryan will be there.”

Makenna had to have heard wrong. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I’ll be at the mediation meeting,” Ryan rumbled.

Was he high? “You can’t go. You don’t work for the shelter.”

“No, I don’t,” he conceded, “but I can be there as part of Shaya’s security team.” Mediators always had bodyguards.

Jaime nodded. “That would work. Our pack and Shaya’s are closely allied with each other through a blood bond—we even share enforcers. It wouldn’t be considered strange for him to be there.”

Before Makenna could say that Ryan shouldn’t get so heavily involved, Dawn smiled at him and said, “Thank you, Ryan. I’ll feel better knowing that my girls and I will be safe in the event of a fight.”

Ryan gave a “you’re welcome” grunt in response.

Taryn glanced at her watch. “We should get back. My son is probably driving the others crazy, especially my mate.”

Dawn chuckled, though her eyes still glinted with worry. “You get back to your mate and pup.”

Ryan rose to his feet. “I want to see Zac first.”

“Of course you do. He’ll be glad to say good-bye.” Dawn once again expressed her thanks to the Phoenix wolves for their help as she and Madisyn then led them back into the shelter.

As he turned to go inside, Ryan noticed that Makenna hadn’t moved from the bench. “Not coming to protect Dawn from us?” Her head whipped to face him. Oh yeah, he knew she didn’t fully trust them. He even understood it. His wolf didn’t like it, though; he wanted her trust, believed it was his due.

“Madisyn’s with her. That girl’s tougher than I am.”

He doubted that.

“Have a safe journey.”

The dismissive comment rubbed him up the wrong way. “You still haven’t told me your real name or how you ended up here.” Okay, those words came out snappier than he’d intended. There was his lack of tact again.

“Because it’s not your business, White Fang.”

Ryan stood in front of her, meeting her bold “I fucking dare you to push me” gaze that for some perverse reason, caused his body to tighten. “I’m making it my business.”

Bristling, she cocked a brow. “Oh, is that fucking so?”

It was fucking so. “No pack has the right to cast out a pup. They should pay for it.”

Her suspicions were right, reflected Makenna. Protecting and defending were imprinted in his bones. “They will. Karma will see to that.”

Yeah,
he’d
be the karma she was referring to. “Just give me the name of your pack.”

“You’re a stubborn son of a bitch,” she said without heat. With anyone else, she might have thought he was pushing this merely because—like most dominant males—he didn’t like to be told no. But she sensed it was more than that. It was almost like he had this
need
inside him to be productive, to be useful, like he had something to prove to either himself or others.

“Just concentrate on Zac,” she told him. “Right now, he needs you.” A long moment of silence passed, but there was no way to tell what was going through his head. She’d never before met anyone who was such an expert at controlling their emotions. There was little of it in his voice, eyes, words, or outward demeanor. His body language was reserved; he never fidgeted, never evaded eye contact, never rambled or stammered. Hell, she had more success understanding his grunts.

Sensing that she wasn’t going to budge, Ryan decided to bide his time. He’d get his answers eventually. “Remember to call me if there’s a problem.” With that, he left.

CHAPTER SIX

T
he crack of a whip on his back. Rope abrading his wrists. White-hot pain as claws stabbed deep in his side. Rage and hatred pumping through his veins. The burn of the hot iron rod. Voices questioning, laughing, taunting. Ice-cold water hosing him down. The drill going through his hand. The sting and burn of salt and red pepper being rubbed into his wounds. The smell of sweat, blood, anger, corruption, and—

Ryan bolted upright in bed, panting and caught up in the fury that had clouded his thoughts all those years ago. His wolf, who had woken with a bestial growl, finally settled in his pacing as he realized it had been no more than a nightmare. Ryan didn’t have them often anymore. Once every six months, at most. They were always the same: broken, distorted snapshots of memory.

After Trey had gotten into an argument with the Alpha of a rival pack, Ryan had been kidnapped, kept prisoner, and tortured by them for information that he didn’t give.

Although the Linton Pack had plenty of questions, Ryan didn’t believe their need for information had been the primary reason for the torture they had inflicted on him. They had done it because they got off on it. The Alpha, in particular, had been a sadistic bastard.

It hadn’t been just the torture that pushed Ryan so near to the end of his endurance. It had been the sense of helplessness, of being out of control and unable to defend himself. His wolf had been chomping at the bit, furious that he’d been injected with drugs that prevented him from shifting and tearing his captors apart.

Ryan had known that his only chance of escaping would be to cross over the knife edge of feral, giving his animal total control. He’d known that the extra speed and strength would enable him to fight the fuckers. But he’d also known that if he did that while he was so enraged and no more than an animal in mind and heart, he could possibly turn rogue.

As such, he’d hesitated for over two weeks, hating the idea that going rogue would force his pack to track and kill him. But the more the Linton Pack had hurt him, the more they’d fed his need for freedom and vengeance.

Drugged, tired, hungry, enraged, and in utter agony, Ryan had finally given in. Completely feral and out of control, his wolf had lunged to the surface in spite of the drugs—and had escaped and ripped apart his captors. Ryan didn’t remember much about it; there had been so little left of him that felt human.

After that, his wolf had fled to his territory. By then, he’d calmed enough that Trey and Dante were able to call him back from the edge. The only words Ryan had spoken had been to say that the small Linton Pack had caught him, and they were now dead. They hadn’t pushed him for more information—maybe sensing there would be no point. He’d been so emotionally numb, yet so close to the edge.

Time around his pack had helped him heal, and he was about as functional as could be expected. Being a member of a tight, supportive, loyal pack could heal many wounds. That was why he believed his pack would be good for Zac. He just needed the kid to figure that out for himself.

Zac glanced through the glass door of the shelter’s entrance. “Ryan said in the message that he’s coming alone today.”

That surprised Makenna. “You sound relieved.”

“I like the others. It’s just that, you know, there’s a lot of them, and . . .

And a group of strong personalities could be intimidating. “I get it.”

Zac licked his lips. “Why do you think they’re not coming with him?”

She could practically see his worry flashing in neon lights on his forehead. “It’s not because they don’t like you.”

Colton nodded. “It was obvious that they want you in their pack. Maybe Ryan doesn’t have enough tickets for the game.” He patted Zac’s shoulder. “Don’t worry so much.”

“Don’t worry so much,” the three-year-old little girl hanging from Colton’s neck repeated, which is why she earned the nickname “Parrot.” All kids loved Colton. Beneath that muscular build was a complete marshmallow.

Hearing his cell beep, Zac said, “That might be Ryan.” Swiping his thumb across the screen, Zac smiled devilishly. “It’s Dominic.”

Makenna arched a brow. “Do I want to know what it says?”

“Nope.”

Colton looked at her, eyes smiling. “You thought any more about Madisyn’s suggestion?”

She knew he was referring to the feline’s idea that Makenna should let Ryan “take that bite he seems to want.” Makenna personally wasn’t convinced he was attracted to her. Even if he was, and even if it didn’t matter to him that she was a loner . . . “I don’t have the time or ability to handle this particular individual.”

He snorted. “You handled me just fine. I pushed you too hard, too often. You pushed right back. Never took any crap from me.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “I just want you to be happy. There’s more to life than the shelter.”

“Hmm.” She peeked through the glass door just as a familiar Chevy pulled up. “Here’s Ryan.” Her stomach clenched and her wolf sat up, pleased. “Let’s go.” By the time she and Zac reached the bottom of the path, he was opening the front passenger door. “Hey, White Fang. No pack mates to protect you from me?”

Ryan grunted, taking a swift inhale of her scent. And he scowled. There was a slight whiff of Colton there. His wolf raked his claws at Ryan, demanding he challenge the male. It was tempting.

Body unnaturally stiff, Zac shyly tipped his chin at him in that way teenagers often did. “Sup?”

Ryan gave him a brief nod before his attention darted to the car lurking a short distance from the shelter. The two males inside the vehicle looked everywhere but at them, pointedly avoiding his gaze. They had done the same thing the previous day. It would seem that Remy was having the shelter watched.

“Zac, why don’t you ride shotgun?” suggested Makenna. “That way, you guys can talk.”

Once they were all in the Chevy, Ryan put the car in gear, pulled away from the curb, and scowled at Remy’s wolves as he passed. Then a silence fell. For the first time that Ryan could recall, he found silence uncomfortable. Knowing he had to talk to Zac, get to know him, was the kind of pressure that made him edgy. And the more minutes that passed, the edgier he became.

What did fourteen-year-old boys like to talk about? What interested them? His mind came up empty. Zac had seemed to hit it off with Dominic. What would
Dominic
ask him? Probably nothing suitable for a fourteen-year-old to talk about.

What Ryan wanted to know most of all was what had happened in Zac’s pack to make him run. He wanted to know who’d hurt him—or, more to the point, who needed to get their fucking throat ripped out for doing so. But until he’d earned Zac’s trust, he’d have to keep his questions casual or the kid might close down. He needed him to relax, but Ryan wasn’t exactly a relaxing person to be around.

Shit, he should have taken Zac somewhere else so his pack mates could have come along. It had been Jaime’s idea to take Zac to the game. She thought the only way Ryan and Zac could truly get to know each other would be if they didn’t have lots of company. Ryan would do what came naturally and say very little to Zac if his pack mates were there and asking questions
he
should be asking. Yeah, okay, she was right. But this was awkward as fuck.

“You know,” said Makenna, breaking into his thoughts, “I think I’d have a decent shot of surviving a zombie apocalypse. What about you guys?”

And just like that, the tension melted away.

“She does that a lot.” Zac chuckled. “Ask weird questions, I mean.” He twisted slightly in his seat to reply, “Um . . . yeah, I think I could.” Then he looked at Ryan. “You?”

Ryan opened and closed his mouth three times. “I don’t know how to involve myself in this conversation.” It was totally pointless. But if she’d been aiming to ease Zac’s nerves—though he had the feeling it was simply that her brain shot into weird directions—she’d succeeded. And yeah, okay, Ryan had also lost some of his edginess. Enough that he could think of a decent question. “Are you a big fan of football?”

If the way Zac’s eyes lit up was any indication, it was the right question to ask. “Hell, yeah. The Grizzlies are the best.” Grizzlies being a bear shifter football team that was playing in the game they were going to watch.

“Who’s your favorite player?”

Makenna listened as the boys bonded over football. It was almost cute how hard Ryan found it to simply have a casual conversation. He was the epitome of socially challenged. But she liked that he didn’t wear a social mask—too many people did, too many people said and did what they thought others wanted them to. It was difficult to build a friendship with someone based on falsities.

As she watched Ryan push past his comfort zone in order to get to know Zac, she saw just how important the kid was to him, which made her smile. Ryan Conner, she thought, was a good guy. But not a well mannered, safe, comforting kind of good. No, Ryan was hard, dominant, and dangerous—someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kill if the need arose. But he had strong pack values and a solid sense of duty that she admired.

By the time they arrived at the stadium, the boys were much more relaxed with each other. She remained silent—except when it came time to order food and drinks, of course. She noticed that a lot of females were ogling Ryan and even sending him welcoming smiles.
Tramps.
Harsh, yeah, but it wasn’t like Makenna had said it aloud, so she figured it didn’t count.

Ryan led them down to their row and ushered her and Zac to move along first . . . but she came to an abrupt halt as she reached her seat.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ryan.

“I can’t sit in this seat.”

“Why?”

“It’s number thirteen.” And he wanted her to sit in it? Was he crazy?

Ryan spoke slowly, like he was talking to a mentally challenged person. “Yes, like you said, it’s a number.”

“An
unlucky
number.”

“There’s no such thing as luck.” Ryan shook his head, resisting the pointless urge to argue with her over the subject. She was clearly insane, and he should just accept it. “I’ll take that seat, you have mine.”

Makenna almost felt bad placing him in danger by swapping seats. Almost. Leaning back, she soaked up the expectant atmosphere. The crowd was hyped, ramping up the anticipation. She sipped at her Coke through her straw. “Damn, it’s hot.”

Wedged between them, Zac grinned. “Dude, these seats are fleek. How did you get such good tickets so late?”

“I already had them. Dominic and Trick were going to come with me.” They hadn’t been too happy to lose their tickets and had pointlessly complained. Ryan had stared at them until they had thrown their hands up and walked away. “Are you any good at football?”

“I’m all right. I play with Colton and some of the other guys at the shelter sometimes.”

That name made his wolf growl; he viewed the male as a rival. Personally, Ryan didn’t believe Makenna was dating Colton. That didn’t mean he wanted to hear about him.

“Makenna used to come along and watch . . . but they banned her from the games.”

Ryan blinked. “Banned?”

Makenna adjusted her sunglasses. “It was totally unwarranted.”

Zac laughed. “You punched the ref, and that was before the game even started.”

“He told Cady she couldn’t play because girls were too fragile for football. I was merely proving to the chauvinist asshole that not all females are fragile.”

There was genuine outrage in her voice, and Ryan was getting the impression that Makenna was a female who would stubbornly stand behind any key causes that she believed in. He liked that.

Originally, he’d suspected that she was using the shelter as a place to hide or to seek redemption. But now he was thinking . . . “Supporting the shelter is your way of fighting for loners, isn’t it?” Those shifters had no rights, no protection, and had a terrible reputation—it was an injustice that the Makenna he was coming to know would despise. Maybe because nobody fought for her.

Makenna didn’t like that he’d read her so well. She gave him a breezy smile. “The shelter’s pretty cool, right?”

She was good at evasiveness, Ryan acknowledged. It was irritating. “Do you often answer a question with a question?”

“Do you think I do?”

He barely fought the urge to grind his teeth. Instead, he bit into his hot dog.

“Makenna told me you’re a tracker,” said Zac. “Where did you learn to track?”

“One of the enforcers in my old pack taught me when I was a kid.”

“A kid?”

“I spent a lot of time with the enforcers.” At first it had been because his mother frequently dumped him on them—wanting his father, who was a trainee, to care for him. Ryan hadn’t minded. He’d been fascinated by it. So they had given him the same training, taught him to fight, to hunt, and—later—to kill. Those enforcers had given him the skills and confidence he had today as well as a talent he could take pride in. At home, he’d felt like an inconvenience and a burden. Being around the enforcers had given him a sense of belonging, made him feel useful and worth something.

“Do you like being one?”

“Yes.” It was all he’d ever wanted to do.