Treeland Pack Tales 3: A Trace of Ivy (6 page)

“Time to meet the boss already?” Her lips quirked on one
side in a shaky, almost smile.

He snatched a robe from the back of the bathroom door and
offered it to Ivy. “’Fraid so.”

She accepted the robe, rising gracefully, and donned the
garment. Once she’d overlapped the front, she loosened the bath sheet, let it
drop, and tied the robe in a floppy bow. The sleeves hung over her hands, and
the hem dusted the floor. The material would have covered three of her with
room to spare.

Pleased she was completely covered, he folded back the
sleeves to free her hands. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything your size.”

She patted his arm.

When was the last time anyone worried about hurting his
feelings?

“This is great—a classic fashion statement.” Her brave
teasing surprised a chuckle out of him.

“You should do that more.”

“What?”

“Laugh. It does good things for you.”

She did good things for him. But he didn’t correct her.

A third warning chimed. As with most shifters, modesty
wasn’t an issue. He dropped his towel, tossed the used underwear and shirt in
the wash bin, and then yanked on jeans. “Daniel and Scarlet will offer you
sanctuary. I want you to stay here, but you have choices.”

Ivy’s jaw opened in unflattering surprise.

He pulled on a clean shirt during the trip to the door,
still stinging from her shock. He was one of her monsters. What the hell had he
expected?

IVY GAPED LIKE a guppy tossed on the carpet. Unless she’d
totally misunderstood, Chet had just offered to let her go. She should be
relieved. So why did she feel so needy—so utterly lost?

She shoved aside the overload of information and emotion to
deal with it later and trailed behind Chet. There was no denying the male made
one fine distraction.

Ogling a captor’s ass had to be a sin or at the very least a
huge mistake. Or was he really a jailor? She’d never eyed the monsters with
anything but dread. Chet’s butt was definitely worth a stare or three and not
anywhere near as intimidating as the front view. The brief image of his arousal
had burned into her brain, and she wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or
thrilled. One more topic set aside to wait for more time, more courage, and a
whole lot more strength. She swallowed a sigh.

At least the view of Chet’s backside gave her a respite from
her own screwed-up head. Besides, she was perfectly happy to let him lead the
way. Terrycloth was not any kind of fashion statement she wanted to make. The
only good thing about the enormous bathrobe dwarfing her was the garment beat
rocking the pathetic naked waif look all to hell. She didn’t need coddling or victim
therapy. She needed to convince these people, wolves, whatever to help rescue
her friends.

She peeked past Chet’s broad back at a stunning redhead in a
buttoned-up cherry-red Mary Poppins coat and fabulous stillies. The gorgeous
shoes came with a scary-handsome male dressed in a black leather jacket and
jeans, presumably, Daniel—the pack leader. He wasn’t any taller than Chet, but
he was definitely wider and every bit as solid. His fragrance was wholly
masculine with notes of leather and sandalwood. Underneath the top layers was
the frightening, electric scent of a coming storm.

Ivy braced herself for the icy grip of terror. The male’s
presence radiated power, yet somehow made her steadier in her skin—as if he
strengthened her courage, her humanity. Besides his mysterious aura, Alpha
strength rolled off him in waves that made it hard for her to meet his gaze.
She did anyway, putting her shoulders back and stepping around Chet.

She willed herself not to tremble in fear and held out a
hand to shake. “I’m Ivy. You must be Daniel.” She angled her gaze to include
the stunning redhead. “And Scarlet.”

The Alpha’s dark eyes sparkled, and he squeezed her hand
firmly, but without damage. “It’s good to finally meet you. You are the first
female to ever escape from a rogue pack.”

Ivy wasn’t sure what to say in response, so she kept quiet.

Chet growled.

She leaned closer to the couple, emboldened by the way they
moved in sync and held hands. “I’m not great at telling, but I don’t think that
was one of his happy sounds.”

“Bonding is tough on males,” Scarlet said sympathetically.

Ivy caught a whiff of something literally cool and
wonderfully soothing from the curvy female and let the fragrance ground her in
a whole different way than her mate, Daniel’s, power. Ivy breathed in the
delight. Scarlet seemed to strengthen all Ivy’s best basic instincts, and her
core values of community, kindness, and loyalty.

The big Alpha tucked Scarlet closer to his side. She was
half his size yet completely unintimidated. She rolled her eyes at him. “She
isn’t going to eat me, Daniel. She’s dormant, and anyway, I’m a big, bad wolf
too.”

“I know that, Red.” Daniel’s voice deepened, and his eyes
heated with dirty intentions.

They were in love and lust and too adorable for words. She
forgot to be afraid while she enjoyed their conversation. Ivy replayed their
verbal sparring. During the reprise she caught the word “dormant” as applied to
her. Maybe Chet didn’t know what he was talking about. Maybe she wasn’t going
to grow fur and fangs.

“Does dormant mean the bite didn’t take?” Even as the
wildness inside nudged her closer to Scarlet, part of her still yearned to be
normal—human.

Three heads turned to focus on her.

Scarlet broke the silence, tucking her arm through Ivy’s.
“We need to talk.”

Not a phrase that nurtured hope, Ivy thought.

“That’s a great idea, Red. But Ivy deserves an update on the
rogues.”

She nodded in clear obedience without seeming the least bit
intimidated and waited for her mate to continue while keeping one arm linked
with Ivy’s.

“The trackers followed the rogue’s vehicle to the highway,
then lost the trail.”

“It’s a white panel van. They have motorcycles too.” Ivy
volunteered.

“Good to know.” Daniel gave her an encouraging bob of
approval. “Did you happen to catch the license plate?”

“No. The one time I saw the vehicle, everything happened so
fast.”

Daniel dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “The team found
Lauren Thomas’s body. I’m very sorry.”

“A teenager, slight frame, brown hair?” Ivy forced the question
past the helpless sorrow tightening her throat and leaned closer to Scarlet’s
comfort.

“Yeah, your description matches the picture we have of the
missing girl.”

Ivy scrubbed away tears. “We never knew her name.”

“There are other captives?”

“Yes, Kat and Tess, my friends.” Her voice broke. More tears
blurred her vision.

“That’s enough updating.” Scarlet tugged her down the hall.

Ivy stumbled after her, barely able to stay upright. The
news of Lauren’s death had lifted the floodgate on her toxic memories. Denial
had kept the monsters in her head at bay. Now her stomach knotted into a ball
of misery.

Scarlet put an arm around Ivy’s waist and squeezed. “None of
what happened is your fault. You’re going to get through this in time, and you
will be fine.”

“Thank you.” Silent tears of gratitude slid down Ivy’s
cheeks. How had Scarlet known exactly what she needed to hear? And why did she
accept Scarlet’s reassurance? Scarlet led her into a room plainly serving as a
modern gentleman’s office. The space was totally Chet. Indirect lighting
softened the edges of a wood-and-leather campaign desk. A thin silver laptop
rested on the ancient wooden surface without looking the least out of place.
The leather task chair faced a Turner landscape that belonged in a museum.
Another wall of glass framed the city lights.

They sat on a sofa, suspiciously like the Louis XVI in her
grandparents’ Manhattan apartment. Memories of not being allowed to touch, let
alone sit on the antique furniture kept her rigid for a long moment. She
lightly caressed the soft forest-green velvet covering, noting creases and thin
spots. An artifact he actually used?

“Chet had this room soundproofed. We’re safe from the guys’
werewolf ears in here.”

A clean white hankie was pressed into her fingers. Ivy dried
her tears and then offered the crumpled linen to Scarlet.

“Please keep it. I wish I’d thought to bring you some
clothes.”

Ivy curled her legs under the roomy robe and plucked at the
terry. “I just threw this on at the last minute.”

“I’ll bet you did.” Scarlet laughed as Ivy had hoped she
would.

When the laughter died, Ivy couldn’t think of a thing to
say. Scarlet covered her hand with hers. “Werewolf bites don’t change humans
into wolves. You have to be born one. I don’t know how much Chet told you, but
you need to understand rogues are insane. There was nothing you could have done
to prevent being captured, and nothing that happened was your fault.”

“Even after a long shower, I still feel so dirty,” Ivy
blurted.

“Give it time. The memories will fade, and you’ll regain
your confidence.”

“I didn’t fight hard enough.” Shame shrank her voice to a
whisper.

“If you’d fought any harder, you would’ve died.” Scarlet
squeezed her hand. ”And you escaped. That’s just—wow. I can’t imagine the
courage that took.”

Ivy nodded as if she agreed with Scarlet, but rogue filth
still coated her soul.

“I was a teenager when a pack of rogues captured my mother
and me. Even now, I don’t remember much about the captivity. In one way I was
fortunate. My wolf endured the worst of the abuse, protecting me. After I was
rescued, I spent weeks in wolf form with Gracie, the packs’ traveling Omega.”

“How were you able to get past the fear, the guilt, and the
shame?” Ivy realized her question revealed every miserable emotion she felt,
but something about Scarlet made it impossible not to trust her.

“It took a long time.” Scarlet studied the city lights for a
long moment. “Even after the panic attacks were a rare occurrence, I wasn’t
able to tolerate an Alpha male’s touch. My head understood healthy Alphas are
as protective as they are dominant. They would never hurt a female or pup. Yet,
thanks to the rogues, I shrank from their strength.” Her pretty mouth twisted
into a wry grimace. “Not a pretty picture in a pack run by Alphas. For ten
years I lived in a state of terror. I’d lost the ability to shift, so my wolf
senses were muted. The trauma damaged the connection to my inner bitch, making
me useless to a pack that needed my gifts. Of course all of this happened
before I met Daniel.” She brightened.

“But you healed?”

“Yes, thanks to Daniel. He mended my broken connection for
the pack and because he’s a male of honor, worthy of his fur. He would and damn
near did sacrifice his life for others.”

“And because he clearly adores you,” Ivy added.

Scarlet grew serious again. “Now he does, just as I love him
with all my heart. But even with a mating bond, relationships take time, work,
and serious commitment.”

Embarrassed, Ivy ducked her head. “I don’t think I have ten
years to get past my fear of sex. Chet doesn’t seem that patient.”

“Pfft, he’ll be as patient as you need. But your healing
should be much, much faster. You have me and Daniel and most of all, Chet to
help you. His touch will be a balm for your damaged wolf. Once you’re able to
accept it.”

She had felt Daniel’s power when she shook his hand and
inhaled his scent. Just Chet’s nearness made her feel safer and stronger.
Another piece of shame and guilt eased away, as the rightness of Scarlet’s
explanation settled in Ivy’s mind. “Why would you do this for me?”

“For Daniel and me, because you’re one of us, and that’s
what pack does. Chet is bonding to you. He will always put your welfare above
his own.”

Ivy wanted to believe her, because something needy inside
wanted him to be her safe harbor. But everything she knew about men made her
shake her head in denial. “I’m not so sure. He doesn’t even know me.”

“His wolf does.”

“You’re so kind. Are you really a beast too?” Ivy snapped
her teeth together too late to stop the question. She needed to grow a filter
to use around these people before someone decided to bite her head
off—literally.

“Do you want to see me shift?”

The wildness inside pushed her to say yes; fascinated and
frightened, Ivy hugged her knees. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Let’s try it. My gift is stronger when I’m wearing fur.”

“What’s your gift?”

“Healing.”

“Is that why you smell so soothing?” Ivy asked.

“Probably. I really don’t know. I don’t smell myself.”
Scarlet unbuttoned her coat. Underneath she had on nothing except a sheer black
bra, panties, lace-top stockings, and a heavy gold chain.

Ivy’s eyes widened.

“Daniel’s favorite outfit.” Scarlet casually removed her
heels and peeled off the stockings.

A startled giggle spilled from Ivy’s lips. “I should’ve guessed.”

“Am I shocking you? Shifting erases modesty. It’s either
strip or shred your clothes.” She tilted her chin toward the bottom of the
growing pile of apparel. “I’m attached to that coat.”

“You haven’t taken off the necklace.” Ivy murmured, not
wanting anything to happen to her new friend’s chain.

Scarlet touched the thick links. “Daniel’s collar actually.
He wears mine. They’re more practical than rings—they stay on when we shift. An
exchange of collars is part of the traditional mating ceremony.”

“Am I really going to change into a wolf?”

“It’s not likely. With half-bloods there’s a fifty-fifty
chance. If they’re going to be able to transform, then the first shift usually
comes along with puberty.” She snorted daintily. “As if rampant hormones weren’t
enough of a challenge.”

“So I’ve got werewolf blood, but I’m not going to turn into
a beast at the next full moon?” She wasn’t sure whether that was good news or
not.