Falling for the Billionaire Wolf and His Baby (Blood Moon Brotherhood) Page 8

  “Thank you.” She smiled, once more thrown by his appearance. “Want some water? An aspirin?”

  “I’m fine.” He shook his head. “You know, we need to plan our date.” She saw the slight tremor of his hand as he rested it on the counter.

  “We will,” she said. The baby was too still, too quiet. Something was wrong. She swallowed, looking Thomas in the eye. The color. Just like Cyrus. Her chest felt heavy, compressed. “Did something happen to you?”

  His smile was slow. She saw the hardening of his face, the pinched tightness about his eyes as he said, “Yeah, you could say that.” He shrugged. “I got mugged last night. Jumped on my way home from work. Damn dog bit my leg.”

  The hairs on her arm stood straight up.

  “A dog?” she repeated.

  “I guess. Damn thing almost tore my leg off.” He shrugged. “I’ve been feeling weird ever since.”

  “Did you go to the doctor?” she asked, moving to the other side of the island and pulling out a baby bottle. Three days ago, she’d be worried about rabies or infection. Not now.

  Finn’s words haunted her. I infected the only friends I’ve ever had. Me.

  Had Thomas been infected?

  She’d jolted awake last night, nightmares about Cyrus’s near colorless eyes, and Oscar’s reaction terrifying her. Now Oscar was just as still and quiet, like he was hiding. Because of Thomas.

  Panic pressed in, clenching her chest and abdomen.

  Thomas isn’t Cyrus.

  “I’ll go,” he said. “But I had this need to see you first. And Oscar. All I’ve been able to think about today is seeing you two.” He followed her around the kitchen island, carrying a canister of formula with him. He placed it on the counter, but didn’t let go. “You smell as sweet as a tulip, Jessa. You know that?”

  She tried to smile as his colorless gaze bore into her own. She touched his arm, startled by the heat of his skin. “I’m worried about you. Can you go to the doctor this afternoon? I can make you an appointment.”

  He paused, a hint of sadness on his face. “No. I have to do something first.” He shook his head. “Something that might be hard for you, Jessa.” He cleared his throat, his tone shifting, thickening into an almost-growl. “I need Oscar, Jessa. He said he’d leave you alone if I gave him Oscar.”

  She couldn’t freeze up. She couldn’t fall apart. Oscar needed her. She swallowed. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, but she couldn’t reach for it.

  “You’ll have to call them back later,” Thomas said.

  What the hell was she supposed to do?

  “I don’t understand,” she said, hoping her panic wasn’t obvious.

  “I think you do,” he argued. “I know about the park. He told me.”

  She shivered involuntarily. She had to think. Calm. Stay calm and focus. She couldn’t run. There was no place to hide… Wait. The safe room. It was close. She could get Oscar inside—if she was careful. “He who?” she asked, stalling.

  Thomas frowned. “Cyrus. He said hi, by the way. That he’s not the bad guy here, Finn is.”

  Her stomach tightened. Finn was the bad guy? She remembered the anguish in his face when he’d confessed what he’d done to his brother. She couldn’t imagine seeing remorse in Cyrus’s pale gaze. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t handing Oscar over to anyone. She needed time. She needed room to maneuver. “Oh?”

  Thomas shook his head. “He stole their ancestor’s bone, Jessa. Stole their mojo, you could say. And he won’t give it back. And his pack? They’re bad guys. More than a third of the missing persons in San Antonio? Finn’s pack. And they’re not missing, they’re dead. He’s a murderer. Your boss is a murderer. He killed his own family, for Christ’s sake.” He shook his head. “You’re not safe here.”

  Thomas’s mounting agitation made it hard to breathe. She wouldn’t listen to him—she couldn’t. Finn wasn’t a murderer. He couldn’t be. “You want to keep me safe?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I care about you.”

  The sincerity in his voice tore at her heart. Whatever had happened to him, he was still Thomas. Surely she could reason with him—after Oscar was safe. She stared at him. “You do? Give me a few minutes to pack him a bag?” She turned and headed down the hall, hoping he wouldn’t follow—hoping he wouldn’t pick up on her out-of-control pulse.

  By the time she’d reached the nursery, she was vibrating with nervous energy. She picked up a bag, cradling Oscar close in the sling.

  “I don’t think he’s going to need much,” Thomas said behind her, making her jump.

  She didn’t want to think about what that meant. All she could focus on was getting Oscar to safety. Then she and Thomas could talk this out, could make sense of what was happening, and how they’d both been caught up in a world that shouldn’t exist.

  “I’ll pack light.” She smiled at him, heading for the closet. She pulled an item from the hanger, running her finger across the small emergency latch that released the panic room door. It slid silently open. She had to hurry. But before she could free Oscar, her head snapped back, her hair gripped tightly, a searing pain forcing tears from her eyes. Panic came crashing in.

  “Jessa,” Thomas’s desperation washed over her. He tugged her hair. “I can’t let you keep him. Give him to me.”

  The sling was too tangled. It took all her strength, all her focus, to ignore her fear and pain. There wasn’t time to be scared. She gripped the closet doorframe and pushed off, shielding Oscar as they fell into the safe room, and kicking the red button with all her strength. Thomas lunged forward, the flash of fury on his normally friendly face terrifying her. The door slammed shut, the resounding thud of him bouncing off metal echoing in the small, concrete room.

  “It’s okay, Oscar,” she whispered to the baby, gulping down air. Finn. She pulled her phone from her pocket, but there was no service in the room. He’d know, surely he’d know. He’d sensed it before when they were in trouble. The small space felt cramped, claustrophobic and isolated. And safe. Now she needed to come to terms with what happened.

  This was Thomas. Thomas was her friend…

  But one look at the monitors mounted on the wall told her otherwise. Thomas writhed on the floor—a twisted scream choked out. His body was contorting, twisting in a hideous way—shredding his clothes and his skin. She didn’t want to watch, to see what was happening, but she couldn’t look away. She stared, horrified and transfixed by what she saw. What was left wasn’t human at all.

  “Oh, Thomas,” she whispered. But he was gone. In his place was a large wolf. A very angry, very aggressive, wolf. And he was charging the door. The metal shook, the impact echoing in the room. Over and over the animal charged the door, hell-bent on getting in. She crawled across the room, huddling in the corner and cradling Oscar close. Terror was a new experience, all-consuming and paralyzing.

  “It’s okay,” she said, patting his little back. “We’re safe.” If she kept saying it, maybe she’d believe it.

  But Thomas—the wolf—wasn’t giving up. He paced back and forth before the door, scratching up the flooring, ripping the baseboards free and chewing through the drywall. The power of his attack left her shaking, pressed tightly into the corner. When he was done there, he destroyed the room. She watched, scanning the monitors for some sort of help.

  But, if help came, they’d have to face Thomas. The wolf lifted his head up, and howled.

  Oscar shuddered.

  “Daddy’s coming,” she said. “All you have to do is wait. He’ll be here.” She knew it was true. Knew nothing would stop Finn.

  Chapter Six

  “Who’s here?” Finn asked the doorman, not bothering to slow. His son was in danger. Adrenaline coursed through him.

  “Just the delivery boy,” the doorman answered.

  He glanced back then. “Thomas?”

  The doorman nodded, glancing from him to Brown. “No one else.”

  But Brown picked up on Finn’s agitation, instantly alert
. “What do you need?”

  He yanked open the door to the stairwell. “In three minutes, cut the lights,” he yelled as he raced up the stairs.

  He closed his eyes, letting the fury of the wolf warm his body in preparation. Thought wasn’t possible. Oscar. Jessa. The wolf took control, and Finn welcomed him. The shift was hard, driven by rage and pain. Every muscle stretched and tore. His shoulders snapped downward, his spine lengthening as he fell forward. His claws split through his palms to click against the concrete stairs. Raw instinct surged as fur bristled and his nostrils flared, pulling in scents—searching. The wolf was in charge now. Things like hesitation and restraint no longer applied.

  Thomas’s odor reached him, tainting the air with the rank mix of wolf, blood, fear, and anger. He burst through the door, an ear-splitting howl of pure frustration and anger greeting him.

  Thomas was angry. A good sign.

  His ears perked up. No Oscar. No Jessa. He skirted the kitchen, through the great room, and trotted down the hall.

  Silence. Thomas had scented him.

  He crouched, waiting. And then darkness fell. Brown had cut the power.

  Finn waited. Thomas would come. Thomas, a new wolf with no control or awareness, too loud, too nervous, and too clumsy to realize how lethal he was. The new wolf stumbled into the hall, pausing, anxious. His nails clicked on the wood floor as he took a few steps and paused again. Finn let the wolf’s fear build. Then he attacked. He was silent, his teeth clamping down on the new wolf’s neck before he could react. Thomas’s haunches gave out, his nails gouging the floor as he fought to get away.He spun and rolled, scraping fur from Finn’s shoulder and neck, desperate to break Finn’s grip.

  But Finn held tight, hoping Thomas would give up.

  The lights flickered back on, revealing a thatch of long, golden hair on the ground. Droplets of blood.

  Jessa.

  Fury rolled over him, choking him, pulling his wolf into the maelstrom of primal instinct. He growled, his jaws clamping tight. The spurt of blood was hot, metallic, and quick, filling his mouth, splatting onto the floor beneath them. In seconds, the new wolf—Thomas—hung limply from his mouth. But Finn’s rage wasn’t appeased.

  Jessa’s hair… Oscar.

  He dropped the wolf and ran into Oscar’s room, sniffing the mangled frame of the panic room door. He could smell Oscar and Jessa, but he didn’t know what he’d find inside. He forced the change, fighting the wolf back, ignoring the brutal burn and grind of bone and muscle aligning into his human form. He wouldn’t heal as fast, but he wasn’t ready for Jessa to meet the wolf.

  If she was okay. And Oscar?

  They had to be okay.

  He didn’t give himself time to adjust, but stood and leaned against the panic room door. Breathing was hard, his legs were unsteady, but his apprehension forced him to move. He had to get to his office, to the keypad. But the door slid open. The red haze that had clouded his senses slid away, and his wolf retreated. He could finally breathe, finally think.

  Jessa sat in the far corner of the room, her knees drawn up, Oscar on her lap. Her green eyes fixed on him, haunted.

  He closed his eyes, fighting nausea.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, so softly he doubted she’d actually spoken.

  He nodded, vaguely aware that he was bloody—and naked. “You? Oscar?”

  “Yes,” she murmured, her gaze unwavering. “Is he dead?” She was shaking, he could see that from here.

  Would she hate him? He hadn’t planned on killing Thomas. But her hair and blood… His wolf was pacing again, ready to defend her, to do anything it needed to protect her. He nodded.

  “He was here for Oscar.” Her voice was unsteady, thick. She pushed off the wall to stand, her arm supporting the sling with Oscar inside. “I tried to get Oscar inside, knew he needed to be safe. But I couldn’t get the sling off.”

  Her words ripped through him. She would sacrifice herself for Oscar, and it gutted him. He crossed the small space, steadying her, his hands clasping her upper arms. “And you?”

  “Thomas said he wouldn’t hurt me.” She was dazed, he could see that.

  “He would have hurt you, Jessa. He would have done whatever it took to take my son.” He knew what Cyrus was capable of. And thinking of Oscar or Jessa at Cyrus’s mercy made his blood run cold.

  “No, he wouldn’t.”

  “Cyrus is his alpha. Thomas must obey him,” he argued. “It’s the way the wolf works.”

  She stared up at him, fear in her eyes. He didn’t fight her when she shrugged out of his hold. “Oscar needs a bottle.” But she paused in the doorway, taking in the devastation that had been Oscar’s room.

  “Jessa,” his voice broke. “Go into your room and wait for me.”

  She spun, her eyes shining with unshed tears—and anger. “Don’t order me around. Jesus, Finn, I need to… I’m just… Stop.”

  Finn ran a hand over his face and nodded. She was right. He’d had ten years to come to terms with his fucked-up reality. She’d had a day. And until now she hadn’t known what, exactly, “his reality” meant. He watched her, aching to hold her, to touch her. “Thank you for protecting Oscar.”

  She nodded, her gaze lingering on his bare chest, then traveled lower. “I need…” Her whisper hitched. Her green eyes slammed into his, the ragged pull of her breath shaking him. “You’re naked.”

  The shift from fear to need was a palpable thing. Her emotions were high. Her life had been threatened, her endorphins had taken over. She needed some sort of release. He swallowed, trying not to respond, trying not to think about all the ways he could help her find her release—over and over.

  “Mr. Dean?” It was Brown.

  “In here,” he answered, glad for the interruption.

  Jessa blinked, sucking in a long, deep breath. “Oscar needs a bottle.” She walked around the shattered crib, torn carpet, and chunks of drywall littering the floor.

  “Miss Talbot, I advise you to wait,” Brown said.

  Shit, Thomas. He’d shift now, from wolf to the man he was. That was the hardest part—and Jessa didn’t need to see. He wrapped a shredded throw around his waist as he went.

  Oscar’s soft cries were building, a sign that his son was hungry—something Jessa would immediately respond to. “Brown, bring a bottle and formula to Miss Talbot’s room,” he instructed. “My son is hungry.”

  Brown, good man that he was, headed toward the kitchen.

  Jessa was staring at him.

  “I’m sorry, Jessa,” he murmured.

  “Can I leave?” she asked. “Would you let me go?”

  No. You can’t go. He couldn’t let her. His hands fisted at his sides. “You’re upset.”

  “Yes, I’m upset. Normal people would find this upsetting.” She bounced Oscar absent-mindedly. “My worries consist of paying rent and tuition and electric bills, of being there for my family, of hoping I’ll eventually find someone to love—that loves me.” Her words ran together, her agitation increasing. “Being hunted or eaten?” She shook her head. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough for this. But…” She shook her head, sniffing.

  “But?” he prompted.

  Oscar’s ear-splitting wail interrupted them.

  Luckily Brown arrived with a bottle, and Jessa took Oscar into her room, closing the door behind her. Finn stared at it, calming himself until he could hear the steady heartbeat of his son, the soft humming of Jessa.

  “Mr. Dean?” Brown began. “He’s gone.”

  Finn pushed past Brown into the hallway. The floor was wet with blood, several paw prints trailing to the emergency exit he’d broken through to get in. Stupid fucking idiot. He’d been too worked up to make sure Thomas was dead. “Get someone down there, Brown. He can’t leave. Do you understand me?” This was his fault.

  Brown nodded. “Yes sir.”

  Finn ran down the stairs, the senses of the wolf sharpening his ears and nose. The scent of blood was easy to follow, ending at the thi
rd floor—the parking garage. The door was ajar, a thin strip of blood along its surface. But the trail ended sharply, gas and rubber signaling the way Thomas had gone.

  “Someone was waiting,” Brown said, still scanning the concrete garage floors.

  Finn felt the fury of the wolf, but fought it back. “Cyrus,” he said, glancing at his security chief.

  Brown had a vested interest in destroying Cyrus, too, one that made him unfailingly loyal to Finn. Eight years ago, Cyrus had killed Brown’s wife and taken his daughter. It was Finn that had found Brown, broken and furious, and listened to the man’s too-implausible-to-be-true story. Except it wasn’t. He’d vowed to help Brown find his daughter, and the man had been loyal to Finn ever since.

  “I’ll find them,” Brown said.

  “No, send Gentry. I need you to help get Oscar and Jessa to the refuge.” His voice was hard, inflexible. He wanted Cyrus dead—wanted to rip the bastard’s fucking throat out. But he’d have to wait. Brown’s revenge would have to wait, too.

  Brown stared at the ground, the streak of bright red blood, and nodded.

  It was enough. Finn spun on his heel and ran back up the stairs. All that mattered was Oscar and Jessa. Seeing them, smelling them…hearing the thrum of the blood in their veins and the beat of their hearts would calm him. And so would getting them to safety.

  …

  Jessa stared down at Oscar, the lids of his blue eyes growing heavier as he finished off his warm bottle. His little body relaxed, the latch on the bottle easing, as he drifted off to sleep. She smiled, stroking her finger along the soft curve of his cheek.

  She envied Oscar. He had no idea what was going on. As long as he had someone there to take care of him, he was content. He didn’t know anything about danger or fear. Or have to worry about anything beyond baby-things. He’d grow up thinking it was normal for men to turn into animals, to act like animals—with instincts to hunt and kill.

  She sniffed, the tears she’d held at bay overwhelming her. She lifted Oscar up, propped his tiny body against her shoulder, and patted. When he burped, she almost burst into tears. She loved this baby. So much. She’d no idea just how much until today. And while any rational person would be packing up and leaving, she couldn’t do it.