Shifters of Silver Peak: Mate For A Month (10 page)

The pack members stood outside the shell of the house they were building, deep among the fir trees. They glanced at each other uneasily, and then at the two shifters standing by the folding tables and raging at each other.

“I didn’t steal his fucking lunch box! And I’m getting sick of you accusing me of things I didn’t do!” Casper shouted at Marcus. “He shouldn’t even be in this pack! He’s a cub, not a wolf!”

They couldn’t even make it to lunchtime on the job site without going nuclear. Marcus was at the end of his rope. He’d felt so calm lying there in Eileen’s arms that morning, and then the minute he’d started driving towards work, he’d felt the anger returning, burning under his skin.

And the ghosts of the dead fighters had floated in front of him on the road, staring at him accusingly; he’d even jammed on the brakes once to avoid hitting them. Furious honking from the car behind him had yanked him back to reality and left him sweating and shaking.

And now this. There was no way this was an accident. Casper was somehow doing this on purpose, either to provoke Samuel or Marcus. But did it even matter what was setting Marcus off?

What was he going to do? He couldn’t expect Eileen to babysit him twenty-four hours a day just so she could keep him from going off the deep end.

Samuel’s face was as white as a sheet, and he was holding his hands up pleadingly.

“Casper. Harry’s watching. Calm down,” Damien said, laying his hand on Casper’s arm. Casper furiously shook it off and took a step towards Marcus, and Marcus felt red-hot rage like lava flowing through his veins.

Several pack members were gathered around them, and Roman was hurrying towards them.

Marcus’ vision flowed with blood, and for a second he saw the guards from the fighting ring standing in front of him. He partially shifted before he could stop himself, then shook himself hard. There were no guards. These were his packmates. They were the closest things he had to friends. He withdrew his fangs and made his fur melt back into his skin.

Roman reached the group and glared at the two of them.

“What now?” he demanded angrily.

Without answering, Casper grabbed his tool box and stormed off into the woods, screaming out curses and threats.

Marcus started to speak, but Roman barked, “Enough!”

He walked over to Marcus. “Leave. Now,” he said firmly. “Harry doesn’t want you to come back, and he’s not too crazy about Casper either at the moment. I’m going to talk to the rest of the crew to find out what just happened here, and when I get back to pack property, you and I need to have a conversation.”

Marcus didn’t even trust himself to speak. He turned and stalked back to his car, climbed in and drove off, feeling the gazes of his packmates burning into his back.

Struggling to keep his wolf contained, he pulled over by the side of the road.

He yanked out his phone and sent Eileen a text.
Got fired today. See you at home tonight.
He might be coming apart at the seams, but as long as he was holding on to the shreds of his humanity, he’d treat Eileen the way a mate should be treated. That meant communicating with her. She shouldn’t hear about his being fired from someone else.

He quickly got a text back.
Don’t worry about it. I’m coming home early. My boss liked your wooden rose, wants to hire you to make plaques for his spa.
She was still looking on the bright side. Still thinking everything would be all right.

He headed into town and stopped off at a diner, where he ate ten hamburgers and imagined various ways he’d like to eviscerate Casper.

As he ate, his cell phone rang repeatedly, but it was Roman, so he ignored it. He didn’t trust himself to have a rational conversation at the moment. People in the diner glanced at him and then quickly looked away. Did they see the monster that was sitting there disguised as a man?

Finally he headed back to the pack property, where, as soon as he drove past pack headquarters, he was flagged down by a very angry-looking Zeke.

“Why the hell aren’t you answering your phone?” he demanded.

“What the hell is it to you?” Marcus barked at him, and then saw the look on Zeke’s face. Mingled fury and worry.

He forced himself to speak calmly. “Sorry. What’s going on?”

“Do you have any idea where Samuel is?”

He felt a chill wash over him. Had that bastard Casper hurt the kid? “No, what’s happened?”

“Casper’s body was found in the woods. Damien went looking for him because he never came back from lunch, and he found him face down in the dirt with a knife sticking out of the back of his neck.” He paused. “The cops are looking for him. Death challenge is okay; ambush is not.”

Marcus shook his head. “That’s not right,” he said angrily. “That’s bullshit. First of all, Samuel couldn’t take on Casper.”

“Maybe if he was pissed off enough he could. He could have sneaked up on him.” But there was doubt in Zeke’s voice.

“No fucking way. Samuel’s not capable of it, even if he wanted to. Casper would have heard him, scented him. And you’re saying that Damien just let Samuel get away? He and Casper were friends.”

“He said that he tried to revive Casper, and by the time he gave up, Samuel was long gone.”

“Come on, Zeke. That whole story stinks,” Marcus said, his heart jackhammering against his ribcage.

Matthew. He’d failed Matthew.

Samuel was Matthew’s little brother. When Marcus had checked in on him and found out that he was getting into trouble with the law, he’d begged Roman to invite Samuel to join the pack. Roman had hesitated; Samuel was too gentle for their rough-and-tumble pack.

Marcus had never told Samuel who he was or what had happened, because he was ashamed. How could he tell Samuel that he’d let his big brother die? How could he tell him about Matthew’s horrible final days?

“Eileen’s waiting for you back at your tent. Work’s done for the day; everybody but you is back here now. Well, you and Samuel. Go to your property and stay there until Roman gets back; he’s talking to the sheriff right now.”

“Samuel didn’t do it,” Marcus bit out, and began driving towards his cabin.

He grabbed his phone as he drove and dialed Eileen’s number.

It rang twice, and then he heard heavy breathing and his blood ran cold.

“Hello, Marcus,” Damien said on the other end of the line. “You’re just a minute too late.”

Marcus felt a rush of fury so intense that his whole body went furry, and just as quickly he stuffed it back inside him.

Eileen. He’d keep his rage in check to keep her alive.

“Damien,” Marcus said flatly. “Tell me where Eileen is.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Damien taunted. “I’ll tell you one thing. She’s lying in a pool of her own blood. Think you’ll find her in time? I don’t think so. I hid her well.”

No.

Marcus’ head went wolf and his hands turned into paws for a moment and the car swerved on the road.

He quickly stuffed his wolf back inside and steered the car back on track. His rage was so great that it was pure agony to contain his animal. His skin was on fire. His bones felt as if they were splitting.

The cages. The guards. He’d used self-control back then, to contain his rage and unleash it only when he needed it. He drew on every ounce of his self-control as he sped up the road towards his property.

“I told you she’s bleeding,” Damien said sharply, his voice annoyed now. “You don’t care? I’ll go tell her that.”

Damien was goading him, trying to lead him into a trap.

Survive. Survive ’til you can kill him.

He was close to his property now. He pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the car.

“So it’s been you all along,” Marcus growled. “Starting fights with Samuel and Casper, stealing Samuel’s stuff. Pretending to be the peacemaker. Who are you? You weren’t one of the guards from the fighting ring, but I know you’re connected somehow.”

“You haven’t guessed?” Damien sneered.

In the background, behind Damien, Marcus heard the distinctive two-note cry of a Mississippi kite. He strained his ears; the bird cried out again. He could also hear it in the woods, to the northwest. Near Marcus’ clearing. There was dense underbrush there, and a clear sightline to Marcus’ tent. Damien would try to shoot Marcus, he was sure; he knew he couldn’t take him in a fair fight.

He began swiftly moving in Damien’s direction.

“If I’d guessed, I wouldn’t be asking you, you mangy little cur.”

“Cur? We’re the Coulsons, you disgusting mutt!” Damien’s voice rose in a shriek of rage, and Marcus kept moving his way. He sniffed the air. Blood. He could smell it.

Was Eileen bleeding?

His whole body shook, and his clothing fell off him as he moved. He almost dropped his phone as his hand turned into a paw again. He stopped for a second and turned human once again.

“Senator George Coulson. Remember him? You destroyed us. You took everything from us.”

Oh, he remembered. He’d recognized Coulson’s gloating face every time he’d been herded into the pit to fight. And now that he thought of it, behind the beard and the shaggy hair, Damien looked a little bit like him.

“Excuse me?
I
destroyed
you
?” he growled.

Keep him talking.

Marcus sniffed at the air again. He could pick up Eileen’s scent now, and the scent of fear, but he couldn’t smell Damien. That meant Damien was using some kind of substance to disguise his smell.

What Damien hadn’t taken into account was Marcus’ shifter hearing. Amateur. Marcus was getting close enough now that he could hear Damien speaking even without the cell phone, and he kept moving towards him.

“You dragged our family name into the mud. You weren’t supposed to escape; you were supposed to die like the dog that you are.”

Marcus swallowed his rage and forced himself to sound calm.

“How did you find me?”

“Private investigators. I was looking for a man your age, your appearance, with super strength. You were in the news for lifting a car off someone. There aren’t many shifters in the world who could do that. That led me to your pack.”

“Why didn’t you kill me when you first joined?” Marcus growled. “Why even bother to create a fake name and join the pack?”

“Oh, I was having fun, Marcus. Messing with Samuel. Watching you go slowly crazy. I think it was my scent. Do I smell like my dad, Marcus? Did I bring back memories for you?” Damien let out a shrill, hysterical laugh.

That explained why the nightmares had come back. They’d started a week after Damien had joined. Damien smelled just enough like Senator Coulson that it had brought on those flashbacks.

“I’m going to kill him too, you know. I’ll bail Samuel out after they arrest him, pretend I’m his best friend, and then I’ll take him deep into the woods and gut him. I’ll make it slow.”

Eileen. Samuel. Matthew.

N
o.

“It’s been eight years.” Marcus followed the sound of Damien’s voice, and moved so he stayed downwind of him. “Why now?”

“Why now? Because you stole all our money!” His voice rose in a scream.

Damien was so close now. Marcus could almost taste his blood. “What money?”

“Reparations. You bastards. All the families of the weak little puppies who died in that ring get reparations. Taken from us. The superior ones. The ones who made you fight. Took all this time, but six weeks ago, the government finally gave in to those whiny little bastards. They took our money! Our house! Our lands! My mother killed herself!” His voice rose to a scream.

Yeah, not surprising that Marcus hadn’t heard about that, since he’d been hiding out in this pack under a fake name. And he never followed the news.

But the money didn’t matter. Finding Eileen and getting her to safety mattered.

Now Marcus knew exactly where Damien was. He smiled, a predator’s smile with no mirth in it.

“I smell you!” Damien shrieked. “And your mate is dying! She’s a bitch in heat! She’s a whore! I gutted her!” His voice rose higher and higher as he struggled to get the reaction he wanted from Marcus.

Not yet. Those years of captivity had taught Marcus how to control his emotions. The tears and the rage and the madness would come – as soon as he’d killed Damien.

“One less problem to deal with,” Marcus said coldly. He was goading Damien now, with his icy calm.

“I’ll tell her you said that! I will! I will!” Damien raged at him, and Marcus stopped in his tracks. He was picking up the faint scent of pepper spray.

Eileen carried pepper spray. Hope surged through him.

“You keep saying that. But you don’t know where she is, do you? My mate is fast. She got away from you.” That had to be true. Had to be.

“No! I ripped her open with my teeth!” Now Damien sounded desperate.

“Eileen!” Marcus bellowed. “Stay where you are! I’m coming for you!”

“Marcus! He’s behind the tall fir with the broken branch! He has a gun!” Eileen yelled.

Damien burst out from behind the tree and went running straight towards the sound of Eileen’s voice.

Marcus finally let himself shift and tore after him.

Damien pelted over the fallen leaves and Marcus followed, his blood boiling with fury. He could hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. Eileen was the most beautiful, most precious thing he had ever had in his life. He would have moved mountains and torn down cities to protect her. He wasn’t going to allow a spoiled senator’s son to take her from him. If a single hair on her head had been harmed, he would take it out of Damien in flesh and blood.

Just feet from where Eileen was hiding, he threw himself onto Damien’s back, bringing him down. The gun went skittering from Damien’s hand. The scent of his expensive cologne was overlaid by the sour, acrid stench of fear-sweat.

Even though he was in human form, Damien was strong. He struggled beneath Marcus’ weight and scrabbled for the gun, cursing and spitting. Then, realising he was hopelessly overpowered by Marcus’ enormous wolf, he shifted. Bones cracked and lengthened and fur burst out all over his body, his ranting transforming into a clotted snarl.

He threw Marcus off and they circled each other, lips drawn back over their teeth and hackles raised. Marcus feinted at Damien, darting forward to snap at him and then retreating, hoping to keep the mad wolf’s attention focused on him so Eileen would have a chance to get away. He hoped Damien was angry enough to let himself be distracted from his goal.

Relief washed through him as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a silvery blur – Eileen, in wolf form, running full-pelt towards the camp. Smart girl.

But Damien took advantage of his momentary distraction and leaped.

They rolled over and over, snapping and snarling at each other. Damien’s anger gave him strength, and he pinned Marcus to the ground, a string of drool hanging from his jaws and a gloating, triumphant light in his eyes. It wasn’t enough for him to win – he wanted to revel in his opponent’s defeat, bathe in it, lap it up and savour its taste.

He wasn’t going to get any of those things.

Matthew’s face flashed in Marcus’ head…Eileen’s face…Samuel’s face…Casper’s face… The face of poor Alex, driven mad with guilt by the fiery deaths of their fellow captives… Even the faces of his packmates. With a mighty heave, he threw Damien off him, the other wolf landing on his spine with a sickening thud. As Damien lay struggling, winded and disoriented, Marcus stalked over and, without ceremony, without gloating, with no sense of satisfaction, tore open his belly.

He was sitting by the cooling corpse when a sharp bark announced the arrival of the other members of the pack. For the first time in a long time, Marcus was glad to have other people around him.