“I have absolutely no idea,” he admitted. “I’m kind of working this out as I go at the same time I’m focusing on finding Curtis and those missing girls Alyssa is looking for. After that, I’ll play it by ear.”
Rachel considered that. “Can I ask you a simple question?” When he nodded, she continued. “Do you believe a woman who might beThe Onefor you could willingly hurt you or those you care about? I’m not asking you to answer with your head. I’m asking you to answer with your heart.”
He knew what Rachel was asking. Simply put, she wanted him to stop thinking so damn much and go with his instincts. But the truth was, he didn’t trust his instincts—human or werewolf. He hadn’t for a long time. Not since he’d learned how terrible he was at knowing whom to put his faith and trust in.
“I wish I could answer your question, but I can’t,” he said. “My first inclination is to protect my pack. I can’t see myself ever trusting her completely.”
He grunted in pain as something suddenly twisted his guts into a knot, making sweat pop out on his forehead and tingles race down his spine. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but Rachel still looked at him in concern.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Just a twinge in my arm,” he lied.
Zane could tell from the look on her face that she didn’t believe him. But it wasn’t like he could explain what the hell had just happened. He didn’t know. He’d never felt anything like it before. It was like his inner wolf had just punished him for doubting his soul mate.
Rachel’s eyes narrowed, a sure sign she was about to start digging, and he had no desire to go down that road. Time to get this discussion back to the real reason he’d stayed there instead of going with Alyssa.
“Now that we’ve talked about my issues, how about we talk about yours?” he said, cutting Rachel off as she opened her mouth. “Diego told me you’ve been having a hard time sleeping lately. He said you wake up in the middle of the night screaming from nightmares.”
Rachel sighed, flopping back on the couch. “Are you effing kidding me? Diego promised he wouldn’t tell you about that. He swore it.”
Zane frowned. “He’s worried about you. And it sounds like he has a good reason to be. How long have you been having these nightmares?”
Rachel didn’t say anything. Instead, she rested her head back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling for a long time.
“I’ve been having them a few times a week since the night I went through my change, but they’ve gotten worse since we came out to LA,” she finally said softly, lifting her head to look at him. “I’m lucky if I get more than an hour of sleep a night now. It’s so bad I have to keep the light on even though I can see perfectly fine in the dark, which is driving Diego crazy. Though I don’t think that bothers him nearly as much as my screams of terror.”
Zane didn’t know what was more disturbing—the brutal honesty in her response, the look of flat-out exhaustion in her eyes, or the fact that she and Diego had kept this from him.
“Dammit, Rachel,” he growled, both angry and frustrated that a member of his pack was trying to deal with something like this on her own. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”
She leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs and staring down at the ugly carpet. “Because I didn’t want to bother anyone with my problems. It’s something I need to handle on my own.”
Zane opened his mouth to tell her that she was a member of a pack now and that meant she didn’t need to solve problems on her own anymore. But then he remembered he had no room to preach considering how hard he’d pushed his pack mates away after being shot by that hunter. He knew what it was like to let pride—and maybe more than a little shame—get in the way of letting people help.
“Gage never told any of us what happened to you the night of your change,” he said slowly, trying to tread carefully. The events that flipped the gene and turned a person into a werewolf were always extremely traumatic. Rachel was clearly still working through hers and might not want to talk about it. “Not that he ever would,” he added when Rachel looked at him suspiciously. He didn’t want her thinking he and the rest of the Pack sat around talking about her. “Hell, I don’t even know how long you’ve been a werewolf. But I’m assuming what happened to you was really bad if it’s still affecting you now.”
Rachel shot him a glare, her normally brown eyes flashing the vivid green of a female werewolf. He glanced at her hands to see that her claws were extended, too. No doubt about it—she was pissed. More often than not, getting angry could cause werewolves to lose control and partially shift.
“It happened about a year ago,” she said, her claws retracting as she regained control. A moment later, her eyes returned to their normal brown. “And yeah, it’s still affecting me. But it’s nice to hear you’re completely over the events that happened the night you changed. Gage mentioned you’d been in the war and lost some friends. I guess you put their deaths behind you with no problem, right?”
Zane flinched like she’d slapped him. Harry dying in his arms. Billy bleeding out all over the ground. Oliver begging to be left behind. No, he’d never be able to put those memories behind him. They might not be wrecking his sleep every night like they had in the beginning, but they were still there.
“Sorry,” he muttered, feeling like a jackass. “That was a stupid thing for me to even say. I’m just…” He sighed. “Look, I’m trying to help here, okay? But I don’t know how.”
Her eyes flashed green again, but the anger faded more quickly this time. “I know you’re trying to help, and I appreciate it. But let’s face it—I can’t even seem to help myself, so I’m not sure what you think you can do.” She took a deep breath. “I’m starting to think that maybe I’m going crazy.”
“You’re not going crazy,” he said firmly.
Damn, he wished Gage were there. Their commander was much better at dealing with stuff like this than Zane was. If Rachel needed help with how to breach a door or how to study for an exam to get promoted, that he could do. But Gage wasn’t here, so he had to try.
“I’m starting to see and smell things that aren’t there,” Rachel said softly, her gaze fixed on the wall above the TV. “I think most people would agree that’s a sign I’m going crazy.”
Bloody hell. If Rachel was hallucinating, this was bad. As in way-the-fuck-over-his-head bad. But short of looking for a shrink in downtown LA who treated werewolves, he was on his own here.
“You mentioned it’s been getting worse since coming out here,” he said. “Is that when you started seeing and smelling stuff?”
Rachel opened her mouth, then she closed it again as she thought about it. “Before, actually. I guess I didn’t make the connection between that moment and what’s been going on out here because it was kind of nice in the beginning.”
