Weregirl (11 page)

I was wrong to doubt. My grandfather and I have worked so hard to pull our nation together, and to create relationships with other magical races. We can’t expect to succeed over

 night. It will take years to pull everyone together, years of strife and frustration. But we are stronger now than we’ve ever been and this is the last time I will allow anyone—especially a werewolf like Caine—to make me feel inadequate.

I also refuse to allow a rogue pack to ruin things for us, especially a pack willing to confront and challenge my grandfather.

My normally quiet feet stomp down the stairs, but my anger doesn't have further time to build. My intent to return to Oleksander and plead my case against Caine once again is curtailed by the rush of shadow on the staircase and the panting appearance of my friend, Maksym, and his vampire girlfriend, Isabelle.

Maks is in were form, his body hunched around Isabelle's slim body as though to protect her. I stare at the two, wondering why he's so nervous, considering the vampire could likely outfight my werewolf friend on power alone.

Isabelle’s light brown hair ripples with gold around her, eyes of the same color filled with worry. She hurries forward and grasps my hand in her slim ones, pulling me to her, back up the stairs in a hurry. I wonder why she glances over her shoulder with a nervous expression, tugging me into the hallway and the darkness of a shadowed corner. I open my mouth, now irritated by their secrecy, but Isabelle silences me with a hissing whisper.

“You need to come quickly,” she says, golden eyes full of anxiety. “There is trouble brewing in Yutsk.” The local coven town is led by a pair of powerful witches. It used to be we avoided each other as best we could, the Black Souls wanting nothing to do with witch meddling. But now we are free, Oleksander has made a point of befriending the Makosky leaders and their coven.

“What's happened?” While I don't need more trouble, the distraction gives me something new to think about. Though the thought one of my weres causing trouble in the coven town stirs my anger further.

“It's not what you think,” Maks says in a deep, gravel voice. “Someone is asking about you.”

My brows come together, a heavy feeling in my stomach chilling my anger into worried confusion. “Who?”

“We don't know him,” Isabelle says, looking up at Maks. “But he knows a lot about you, Charlotte. And he's making the witches nervous.”

I nod, releasing her hand, hesitation gone. Whoever it is, they won't be asking for long. “Show me.”

The shadows that carry me to Yutsk feel far different than the sorcerous tunnels I've ridden lately. Spirit magic lives in the flickering shades the vampires use to travel. When we step out into the back courtyard of the towering hotel, its shadow looming over us, I instinctively look up at the black-stained building. It’s the main landmark of the town and has always given me a hint of the creeps, like a haunted house in an old horror film might. I look back in time to see Isabelle stagger slightly, Maks reverting to human to catch and support her.

“Apologies,” she says in a hushed voice. “Traveling with more than Maksym over such a short time period takes the strength from me.”

I squeeze her shoulder. “Thank you,” I say. “I appreciate your dedication to me and the pack.” I'm already turning toward the back door. “You two stay here. I’ll check this out myself.”

“Not likely.” Maks and Isabelle are right behind me, her pale face composed whether she’s recovered or not. I sigh, shaking my head, wondering if this was how Syd used to feel when I refused to let her act alone.

From my own experience, I know better than to argue with them.

I slip through the door into the dark hall, the few faint, quaint lights casting a soft yellow glow over the dark wallpaper, the elaborately woven runner lying the length of the corridor. Being inside only accentuates my feeling of walking into a stereotypical Hollywood film. Heavy, dark furniture lines the walls, the kitchen on the left, scents of boiling cabbage and some kind of roast meat making my stomach growl.

It's only a moment to the front lobby, where I pause and observe the quiet space. Visitors are rare here in Yutsk, for good reason, though the odd witch family comes to call from time to time. I glance behind the front desk, finding it empty. A few steps carry me to the guest registry, open on the black-stained counter, my fingers sliding down the column to the last name on the list.

My touch stutters over the Dumonts. They were staying here? The date is from a day ago, they must be gone by now, per my grandfather’s orders. But, their situation escapes me as I falter and gape at the last name penned in crisp hand at the bottom of the row.

It can't be. He can't have found me here. And yet, there it is, his name in black ink on the yellowed sheet.
Sage America, Room Six.
 

***

I spin and bound for the stairs, the patch my wolf placed over my heart shattering into a million shards now jabbing me ruthlessly with pinpoints of agony. Sage is suddenly in my senses, the love surging back so abruptly I stumble one step before catching myself. I’m unable to pull air into my lungs, fear and heartache and other emotions I can't control driving me forward while my wolf chuffs and fights me for calm. My speed leaves Maks and Isabelle behind, scenting him, the final bit of proof I need to the reality of this disaster, about a heartbeat before I slide to a halt at his door.

His heartbeat comes from behind the dark wood, his scent stronger than ever. I taste him in the back of my throat, feel the warmth of his skin under my hands as my wolf’s attempts to smother him fail catastrophically and she finally gives in, her own sorrow thick in my chest. It is impossible that Sage is here.

And yet, Sage is here.

I don't knock, slipping the portal open. The shower is running, the sound of water splashing from beyond the narrow door at the other side of the room giving me a brief reprieve. I pull the main door shut behind me, lean against it, rigid and frozen. This is bad, so very bad. I need to send him away before anyone sees him or figures out who he is.

The shower shuts off, the loss of sound breaking my stillness. I hear the rustle of a towel, a glass shower door rattle, a bare foot pad onto carpet. I'm so in tune with him, my senses so focused, I hear the swipe of the fabric on his skin as he wipes himself dry, the soft thud as he drops the wet towel into the stall and closes the glass shower door.

I wait at the end of the bed, so tense I feel I'll fly to pieces the moment he appears, warring with love and need versus anger and terror. I will hug him and kiss him and carry his body down onto the bed. No, I must force him to pack and leave at once.

The bathroom door opens, steam escaping in a soft rush of white, his scent—that beloved scent of his—hitting me like the locomotive of a steam train. I sway as his green eyes lift, shock on his face turning to a big grin I love so very much. He's dressed only in jeans, barefooted, tall body gleaming damply in the light. My hands itch to touch him, and I almost give in as he closes the distance between us, dark hair hanging wet over his forehead.

Someone knocks, snapping me free of his spell. I move rapidly, rushing to the exit, easing it open a fraction to catch Maksym's worried eyes.

“Are you okay?” He tries to see past me, but I push the door further closed, only the barest crack remaining.

“Stay out,” I whisper. “Give me a moment.”

Maks retreats as I turn back, the door thudding shut under the weight of my shoulders as I press myself against it and stare at Sage. He's stopped moving, a little frown on his handsome face, his jaw jumping like it does when he's confused and upset. But his eyes are as kind as ever, his sea-green gaze making me feel weak when I need to be strong.

“Charlie.” He doesn't come toward me, just raises one hand, palm up, fingers open and welcoming me.

“What are you doing here?” The words are hissing, spiteful, though I never intended them to be.

Sage stiffens, hand still offered. “I told you,” he said. “I was tired of Wilding Springs. Thought I'd do some traveling.”

I shake my head, flabbergasted and angry, while the girl in me who loves him is so glad he's here. “How did you find me?” I didn't tell him, did I? Was I really that stupid I let it slip where I lived?

Sage shrugs, crosses to the bed and his open backpack. He pulls on a t-shirt, the soft fabric sliding over his muscles while my heart begs me to stop him, to leave that perfect body exposed just a little longer. Something to remember.

“You gave me enough information along the way,” he says. “I have a friend who's Ukrainian, so I recognized your accent when I heard it. And you mentioned Yutsk once.”

Damn it, I did? I'm such a fool.

“Googling you did the rest.” Sage slips his hands into his back pockets and watches me with hooded eyes. “I couldn't just let you run away from me, Charlotte. Not when I know you love me as much as I love you.”

I shake my head, a desperate gesture. How can he speak of love when he doesn't know who I really am? “You have to go.” I rush forward, start stuffing things back into his backpack, the scent of him rising from his clothing as I handle each piece with savage intensity. “It's not safe for you here.”

“Charlotte.” He comes to stand next to me, still not touching me. His voice is soft, full of calm. “I already know about your ties to the Russian mafia. I'm not afraid.”

I look up at him in shock, find him only inches from me, full lips parted, green eyes full of love.

The mafia. He thinks that's the only thing he has to worry about.

“You have no idea what I am.” I gasp a breath as he pulls one hand free and runs his fingers through my hair, gently, sliding down the free length of it. I remember then I’ve grown it long for him, my natural blonde his favorite.

“I don't care,” he says.

“You should.” I step back from him, needing to sob, to hold him. My old training hardens me enough I'm able to hold off, to escape his proximity. “What I am can get you killed.”

“So tell me.” He takes a step and I back away another, a dance of desperation. “Whatever it is, I can take it, Charlie.”

“We can't. We can't be together.” I head for the door, not knowing what to do, but certain the longer he stays here, the more dangerous things will become. If Oleksander finds out about Sage... and the Dumonts. I freeze in my tracks, mouth flooding with saliva as my stomach rebels. What if Andre finds out Sage has been looking for me? And uncovers who he is to me?

I have to get Sage out of here.

The door opens just before I reach it and Maks enters. He's found clothing, a dark trench and jeans, though his chest is bare underneath.

“Your Highness,” he says in Ukrainian. “Tell me what you want me to do with him.”

Sage's gasp turns me around. He's staring at me like he doesn't know me. Well, he doesn't, does he?

“You're a princess?” So he knows more of my language than he let on. I grind my teeth together, turning back to Maks. “Clear the way,” I say. “I have to sneak him out of here before anyone sees him.”

“That might not be possible.” Maks shudders. I feel his were rising and crush him with my power. Sage cannot see our true face. I will not expose him to this. Maksym bows his head to me before meeting my eyes again, his fear intense.

“Tell me.” I feel Sage moving, catch him out of the corner of my eye. He's watching us, listening. I need to be careful what I say.

“The Dumonts are here,” Maks says in a low whisper. “And so is Caine.”

***

My immediate reaction takes even me by surprise. “Against pack rules?” I hiss the words at the last moment, remembering Sage. “Oleksander expressly forbid it.”

Maks nods, miserable. “I know,” he says. “Should I return to the palace and inform him?”

I could reach out to my grandfather from this distance, but it would alert the Dumonts and Caine I am in the building. Though Caine can track me by scent, so he probably already knows I'm here. I need to confront him, but how do I do that without putting Sage in danger? Do the Dumonts know he's been asking about me?

“Stay here.” I glare at Sage who glares back. “Don't let him out of your sight.”

“I can't let you do this alone,” Maks says as the door eases open and Isabelle slips through. Her eyes widen as she sees Sage, her slim body shimmering slightly, though I hope my normal ex-boyfriend misses it. She leans in, the three of us cutting Sage out as he crosses his arms over his chest and snorts his irritation.

“Fine,” I say to Maks. “Isabelle, I need you to get Sage packed and out the back door before anyone sees him.”

She glances at Sage and nods. “I'll do what I can,” she says. “But there is an easier way.” Her hands flutter in front of her.

“No,” I whisper, barely audible. “He can't know.”

“I could ensure he won't.” Her eyes flare with spirit power. “There are ways.”

“No biting.” Unreasonable protectiveness surges. “Just do it the old fashioned way. I'll keep Caine and the Dumonts busy until you can get him out of town.”

“I'm not going anywhere.” Sage's voice interrupts. I spin on him with a snarl which he ignores. “That's what you're planning, isn't it? Sneaking me out of the hotel and away before what?” He exchanges looks with all of us. “Before the royal guards show up and kick my ass or something?”

The memory of Caine following me in Wilding Springs hits me like a bolt of lightning. Caine already knows about Sage, or if he doesn't specifically, he will make the connection the moment he sees him. I can't take that risk. Maybe Isabelle's plan is the best one after all.

But no, Sage is innocent and no matter the intentions, the bite of a vampire leaves a mark on the soul. I won't have him tainted by magic if I can help it.

“Just hurry,” I say to Isabelle before firmly facing Sage. “I've never asked you to do anything,” I say. “But I'm begging you, now. Go. Before it's too late.”

He sags after a brief attempt at stubborn bullishness. “Charlotte...”

“Please.” He has to understand or he's dead. Maybe my grandfather won't kill him, but Caine will, I have no doubt. And now, thanks to my handling of his clothing, the California wereleader will smell Sage on me. I'm a fool and an idiot and in over my head with Sage. What was I thinking?