Peter blinked, tension gripping him in vise.“What?”
Shocked surprise flittered across her perfect face and she gave her head a sharp, violent shake.“Never mind,” she said, contempt so thick in her voice he almost saw it flaying her flesh.
“What do you mean, ‘never mind’?”
“Nothing.It is of no consequence.”
Peter narrowed his eyes.“Who hurt you, Yolanda?”
She froze, shoulders growing stiff.“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Who made you this way?You’re like an abandoned puppy, desperate for affection yet scared of the hand that feeds you.Scared it’s going to lash out and strike.”He paused, his pulse pounding, his throat tight.“Who did this to you?Because I’d really like to meet him.”
She cocked a contemptuous eyebrow.“And do what?”
“What do you think?”
For a moment, nothing, and then she looked away.“He would kill you before you had the chance.”
An angry beat smashed through Peter’s chest and he curled his hands into hard fists.“Let him try.”
She opened her mouth, her eyes swimming with uncertainty, shining with barely contained tears, and her cell phone rang.Snatching it from her pocket, she dropped her head forward, the white-blonde curtain of her hair cascading around her face, hiding it from him as she studied the cell’s small display.Her shoulders tensed and, without a word, she turned away from him, storming from the crash site, spine stiff, shoulders square, phone still ringing in her hand.
Peter watched her go, blood roaring in his ears, heart pounding in his chest.Everything about her body said, “leave me alone”.Such a contrast to the woman he’d first met, perched on his desk at work, sultry sensuality oozing from her in waves.“What the fuck is going on?”
He turned back to the Jag, wishing to God and Jesus and the Devil himself it would tell him its secrets.Tell him where Reggie was, who she was with, if she was hurt or not, and while it was at it, tell him who the fuck Yolanda Vischka was, what she had done to him and how he was ever going to survive her.
He gazed blankly at the stolen car, heart thumping, body tense, and for a frozen, split second, the very last wish seemed to engulf him.
He dragged his hands through his hair.“Fair dinkum, I’m screwed.”
Epoc stood in his private office, watching the eastern sky over the harbor turn to a pink and violet canvas as the sun began to sink below the horizon behind him.He studied a line of seagulls gliding north through the darkening dusk sky, heading, no doubt, to Manly and the hordes of tourists who populated the seaside suburb every night; tourists with too much beer in their bellies to read the signs plastered everywhere on the harbor promenade that read, “Do not feed the seagulls”.
“It’s time,” he said aloud, admiring the effortless way the birds rode the sea breezes, as though gravity was a thing afflicting only man.“Bring him in.”
“But…” A disembodied voice wafted from the telecommunication speakers embedded in the surface of his desk, soft but—unexpectedly—resistant.Defiant.
“Remember who you were before I took you in,” he interrupted.“A homeless, unwanted female, lost, without family and struggling to survive.Easy pickings for those who may have wanted to do you harm or use you for their own nefarious purposes.Remember how grateful you were when I allowed you to become a member of my clan, when I gave you a sense of belonging.A sense ofplace.”A small smile of power played over his lips.“You do remember, don’t you?”
Silence stretched from the speakers for a long moment.Epoc’s smile widened.His prick twitched with dark victory.
“I remember,” came the answer.Low.Somehow dejected.
“Of course you do,” he said smoothly.Smugly.“The sun has set, Yolanda.It’s time to bring the brother in.Now.”
CHAPTERELEVEN
Regan directed McCoy’s van through the darkening streets, flicking her attention continuously from the road to Declan beside her and back to the road.He’d fallen into a fitful sleep on the outskirts of Sydney, sweat wetting his skin, trembles shaking his body, and while she knew he needed rest, his silence scared the shit out of her.She wanted to wake him, but didn’t.At least he wasn’t arguing with her to turn around and head north.
Guiding the van through the traffic, she chewed on her bottom lip.The whole journey back into the city, she’d expected McCoy to somehow jump onto the moving vehicle, climb into the cab and finish what he’d begun.When she wasn’t staring hard at the road, or shooting Declan worrying glances, she watched the rearview and side mirrors, positive she’d see an enormous wolf sprinting after her in the stretching dusk shadows, red-gold eyes burning with depraved promise and evil hunger.
But here they were, seconds from Rick’s practice, and not a wolf in sight.Well, with the exception of the one beside her, although Declan still existed in his human form.For the moment.
She sucked in a slow breath, scanning the street for a parking spot outside the vet clinic, hoping Rick was already inside waiting for her.Manly was not the suburb to drag a semi-unconscious, half-naked bleeding man along the footpath, especially at this time of the evening when people descended on the suburb to eat, drink and party the night away.Too many tourists, too many curious eyes, too many waggling tongues.If Epocdidhave plants everywhere, they’d learn very quickly where she was.Where Declan was.She needed to get him behind closed doors as quickly as possible.
Spotting an empty space not more than a few yards from Rick’s practice, she swung the van in, bumping the front wheel to the curb with a clumsy jolt.Declan moaned softly, already-closed eyes closing tighter as pain etched his features anew.“Sorry, Paddy,” she murmured, jumping from the driver’s seat.She hurried around to the curb, studying the area around her with quick glances before opening the passenger door.She didn’t know what she expected, but every fiber of her being told her to be on edge.Alert.
“Need help?”
