Wild Hunger

  Frankie leaned forward in the armchair as she studied the photos of her parents, which showed them opening their gifts, eating turkey, drinking wine, feeding each other pudding, having a snow fight, and celebrating New Year’s Eve. They looked so happy and infatuated with each other.

  There were pictures of other people too, such as Iris, Lydia, Clara, Clara’s sons, and someone Iris told her was Clara’s mate, Cesar. They truly looked like one big happy family.

  Opening another album, Iris said, “Ah, these are of the mating ceremony. It was simple but beautiful. Not sure how much you know about the ceremonies, but I’ll tell you because you’ll be having your own soon enough. You’ll get all dressed up, and then someone will escort you to a clearing on the territory. The others will already be there, gathered in a circle around Trey and Trick. Once you’ve been escorted into the circle, Trey will recite some words. They don’t have any true power, they’re just ceremonial, but it’s a public way of saying you accept and love each other.”

  Lydia stroked a finger over a photo of a younger version of herself holding Caroline’s hand. “Her dress was so beautiful. She looked perfect.”

  She really did, thought Frankie. Caroline’s diamond-studded dress of lilac silk was long and hugged her body just right.

  “Christopher was so nervous,” said Iris. “But he instantly settled once she walked into the circle.” Turning a page, she added, “These are shots of the after-party.”

  Frankie blinked in surprise at seeing Brad and her grandparents in the pictures. “They attended the ceremony?”

  “Oh yes,” confirmed Iris. “I don’t think they were very comfortable, though we did our best to make them feel welcome.”

  In one picture Frankie noticed Brad in the background, glaring at Christopher. “Brad didn’t like him much, huh?”

  “No, he didn’t,” said Lydia. “He took an instant dislike to him. It didn’t seem to be prejudice. Maybe he just felt that his sister could do better, or maybe he just wanted her to live among humans. Marcia and Geoffrey were cordial enough, though I don’t think a shifter would have been their preferred choice of partner for Caroline. The hate they feel for us now didn’t come until after the murder. And who could blame them for that hatred?”

  As Iris slowly flicked through the album, Frankie couldn’t help but observe that . . . “Wendel watched my mother a lot.”

  Iris looked amused. “So did his brothers and most of the unmated males in the pack. She had such a fragility about her that it made everyone want to sweep her up and protect her.”

  The fact that the other males seemed to covet his mate didn’t appear to bother Christopher. He was always laughing and joking with them in the photos, especially Cruz, whom he was pictured with often. “Looks like Christopher and Cruz were close.”

  Iris nodded, sighing sadly. “They were. Cruz took his death harder than the others did. He was the first to arrive on the scene. You can imagine how devastated he was to find his best friend dead.”

  Frankie couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. As she looked through photos of Brad and Caroline, she noticed Cruz glaring in the background. “I see that Cruz didn’t like Brad.”

  “It was more that he didn’t like Brad’s attitude toward Christopher,” said Iris.

  They went through another album of random photos, some of which showed Caroline pregnant. Christopher always seemed to be close by, and his hand was often splayed protectively over her round belly.

  Selecting yet another album, Iris said, “These pictures are mostly of you, Frankie. I’m not sure if your grandparents told you, but you were born early and the pack healer didn’t think you’d survive. You proved her wrong.”

  Actually, Frankie hadn’t known that. More secrets.

  “You can see just how proud as punch Caroline and Christopher were of you.”

  They did indeed look proud, thought Frankie. Tears even glittered in his eyes at one point as he stared at her, stroking her cheek. “My grandparents have pictures of me with my mother, but none with my father. I should have questioned that, shouldn’t I? I mean, she showed me pictures of some random guy and claimed he was my father, but shouldn’t I have found it weird that he wasn’t in any of the photos with me or my mother?

  “I did ask if there were any. Marcia would always say, oh, they’re probably in the attic, and she’d get someone to pull them down for me when she had a chance. And then I’d forget that I asked for them, or I’d drop the subject because speaking of my parents always put her in a bad mood. I should have pushed her.”

  Lydia reached over the bed to pat her hand. “You had no reason to question her because you had no reason to believe she’d lie.”

  Frankie swallowed as she gazed at one particular photo of Christopher smiling down at Caroline while holding Frankie in his arms. “He loved her.”

  “Worshipped her,” said Iris. “Worshipped you.”

  The last album showed yet more photos—some were taken on Christmases, others on birthdays or Halloweens—and Frankie could see herself changing as she aged. There were many of her cuddling with Iris and Lydia, and it was clear that they had indeed loved her, just as she’d clearly loved them in return.

  “This picture here was taken at your third birthday party,” said Iris. “The little boy tying balloons on your wrists is Trick. You asked him to do it, hoping they’d lift you into the air.”

  Lydia pointed to one of Frankie and her parents at her party. The three of them were huddled around a cake, smiling. “That’s one of my favorite photos. You should take it.”

  Iris nodded. “I’d offer you one of the albums, Frankie, but I know you won’t take any. Still, you should have at least one photo of the three of you together. One of a happy time.”

  Frankie didn’t want to take it, worried she’d squash or lose it. “I’ll snap a picture of it with my cell phone.”

  “You should take a snap of the one of you and Trick too,” suggested Lydia. “He’ll get a kick out of seeing that.”

  Having taken a picture of both photos, Frankie looked at Iris. “You’re tired.”

  Iris sighed. “Always am these days. Even if I hadn’t had the mating bond, Alfie’s death would have broken me. I couldn’t have survived long without him, whatever the case.” She placed her hand over Frankie’s. “You take care now, you hear? You grab every bit of happiness out of life that you can get. Don’t let anyone steal that happiness from you. Take care of Trick, and let him take care of you. Even a strong woman needs to lean on her man sometimes. I miss mine. I’m okay with dying, because it means I’ll see him again.”

  Swallowing hard, Frankie squeezed her hand. She wished she could have told Iris that she loved her and would miss her, but it would have been a lie. Iris was still too much of a stranger. Instead Frankie said, “I’m glad I got the chance to know you.” That earned her a wide smile. “Rest now.”

  “Couldn’t stay awake if I tried.”

  Outside the room, Frankie asked Lydia, “How are you doing?”

  Face pained, Lydia exhaled heavily. “Okay.”

  “Must be hard losing both your parents in such a short time. I can’t say I can relate to that, since I can’t remember losing mine.”

  “Dad’s death was a shock. Mom’s won’t be, but it will still be hard. Thank you for seeing her. She’ll rest easier now when she passes.”

  “You don’t need to thank me. Like I told Iris, I’m glad I got the chance to know her. So thank you for taking a chance on me and sending me that e-mail.”

  Lydia gave her a watery smile. “Thank you for responding to the e-mail and giving us a chance.”

  A croaky voice called out from inside the room, “Are you going to keep thanking each other for stuff, or are you going to leave so I can sleep?”

  That got an eye roll out of Lydia. “We’re going, we’re going.”

  Standing in his Alpha’s office, Trick had just finished listening to Trey’s account of the call he’d made to Morelli
the previous night. Anger flooded him. “He laughed?”

  Trey nodded, hands planted on his desk. “Said he thought I was joking. Said he’s quite aware that Drake’s a wild card, but he didn’t figure him for an idiot. I insisted that Drake is a total fucking idiot. Morelli said he’d talk to him and call me back today at noon. That’s why I summoned you home. I figured you’d want to be here when he called.”

  Dante scratched his chin. “We can’t really blame Morelli for wanting to check out your story, Trey. You’d do the same, in his position.”

  “That doesn’t mean I like that he doubted my word or the word of one of my wolves. I definitely don’t like that he found what I had to say fucking amusing. I asked Nick if Morelli had called him, asking for a meet,” said Trey, referring to the Alpha of the Mercury Pack, which was so closely allied with theirs that they shared both Roni and Marcus. “He said no.”

  “On another note, how’s Bracken doing?” Trick asked, referring to one of the Mercury enforcers. Bracken and his parents, sisters, brother-in-law, and baby nephew had been at a shifter-owned drive-in cinema when all hell broke loose. Anti-shifter extremists had not only thrown grenades and detonated several bombs, they’d had snipers picking off the people who tried to flee. Only Bracken, his mother, and one of his sisters got out alive. Neither female tried to survive the breaking of her mating bond. Within days they too died.

  Trey’s expression was grim. “According to Nick, not good. It was bad enough that he lost his whole family just like that. The worst of it is . . . Bracken was holding the baby when he died. The bullet hit Bracken in the back and went right through him into the three-month-old’s head. He had the baby’s blood and brains splattered all over him.”

  “Jesus,” Trick breathed, rubbing his nape. “No wonder the guy looked like the living dead the last time I saw him.”

  Just then, Trey’s cell phone rang. The Alpha tapped the screen, putting the call on speakerphone, and clipped, “Hello.”

  “Coleman, it’s Nash. How are you doing on this fine afternoon?”

  Trey’s jaw hardened. “How’s Drake?”

  “He was doing better until I beat his ass for attacking your wolf. He knows I want an alliance with your pack—such behavior does not help my cause. It is in fact counterproductive, and I don’t suppose it’s helped convince you to accept me as an ally, has it?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe this will help. Drake has been punished. Severely. He has also been suspended as Beta. When I’m ready to reinstate his position, I will. But only if he proves himself.”

  Trick exchanged a grim look with Dante. Suspending a Beta never worked out well. To lose his position even temporarily would lose Drake the respect of his pack mates. They would no longer consider him an authority, and at least one of them would decide to challenge him for the position. In other words, it created discord and resentment and it made the hierarchy unstable.

  In past instances of a Beta being suspended, they often did the only thing that would regain the rest of the pack’s respect and obedience—they challenged their Alpha. If Morelli were a true Alpha, he’d have known that instinctively. Of course, there was no saying he truly had suspended Drake. Morelli could just be feeding Trey shit to placate him.

  “Pass on my apologies to Trick,” Morelli continued. “He can be assured that Drake won’t bother him again.”

  “You positive of that?” asked Trey.

  “One hundred percent. You have my word on that.”

  “If Drake does attack again, I’ll hold you responsible.” With that, Trey ended the call.

  Dominic pursed his lips. “Do you think he’s really suspended him?”

  “I don’t know,” said Marcus. “He’ll be pissed at Drake for what he did. And if he’s dumb enough to claim he suspended him thinking it would impress Trey, he’s also dumb enough to have actually done it.”

  “Whatever the case, he’ll order Drake to stay away from you,” Trey told Trick.

  Tao nodded. “The question is, can Morelli keep that dog on a leash?”

  “No,” said Trick. “But Morelli believes he can, so he won’t watch him close enough. We need to be prepared for Drake to make another move.”

  Once the meeting was over, Trick left the office in search of Frankie. He found her in the living area, curled up on an armchair. Careful not to spill her coffee, he gently picked her up and sat down, settling her on his lap. “Hey, baby. You have a good talk with Iris?”

  “Yeah. We looked at some photos. Check these out.” She pulled out her cell phone and showed him the pictures she’d taken.

  Trick laughed at the one of them at her birthday party. “I remember that. I kept telling you the balloons wouldn’t make you fly, but you were determined to try.” He looked at the photo of her and her parents, wondering how the fuck a family that looked that happy together could possibly go to shit.

  “Iris said she thought I should have one of me with them.”

  “It’s okay to want it, Frankie.” But he sensed she felt some guilt. “There’s nothing bad about treasuring a happy moment.” Even if that happiness had later evaporated.

  “I kind of hoped that looking through the albums would jog my memories, that I might remember something, which is just stupid, since people rarely recall any memories from that age. But I hate that there are so many holes in the story.”

  Trick kissed her forehead. “I know you do. But you have to stop being mad at yourself,” he said quietly, “because it’s pissing me off.”

  “Excuse me?” She kept her voice low, so it didn’t carry to the others.

  “You’re angry with yourself because you think you could solve the mystery so easily if you hadn’t buried the memories when you were a kid. But it’s not your fault, Frankie. You hear me? It’s not your fault. We’ll probably never have the answers. You need to learn to be okay with that or you’ll torment yourself, and then I’ll have to paddle your ass because no one hurts my mate—not even her.”

  While part of her bristled at his words, Frankie found herself snorting in amusement. “Paddle my ass, huh?”

  “Paddle your ass, yes. I’ll make no bones about it—do not test me on this.”

  She frowned. “You can’t make bones at all.”

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s a figure of speech, and you know what I mean,” he said impatiently. He smoothed his hand down her back. “I’ll bet your ass would turn a very pretty shade of pink.” Trick was getting hard just thinking about it. “In fact, fuck the paddle. I’d use my hands. Yeah, seeing my handprints on your ass would be seriously fucking hot.”

  “You don’t really have a paddle, do you?” His wicked smile was all the answer she needed. And it made her blush. She was about to declare, in no uncertain terms, that no paddle would get anywhere near her ass, but then his eyes cut to something over her shoulder. “What is it?” she asked.

  “Why are the kids staring at you?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m thinking they like the smell of my fear.”

  Chuckling, Trick tucked his face in the crook of her neck.

  “It’s really not funny.” But he just laughed harder. Asshole.

  Frankie rubbed her arms. She was inside her display room. It was cold. Dark. She heard sniffling. She turned. It was her sculpture of the girl in the chair, her head plopped forward. She was sniveling and—

  The sound abruptly cut off. There was a deathly chill to the silence. And Frankie was suddenly very afraid. The girl’s head began to lift, the movement stiff and jerky. Oh sweet Jesus, no. The synthetic hair parted. The face . . . it was Frankie. A much younger Frankie. “He hurt her,” she whispered.

  “Who?” Frankie asked, her voice cracking. “Who hurt her?”

  The child’s head slowly turned. She stiffly lifted her hand. Pointed.

  Turning her head just as slowly, Frankie looked. Gasped. There was a black, frothy blur bobbing in the air. There were no eyes, but it saw her. She felt its eyes on her.
r />   The scent of rain, brine, and burned wood swirled around her as a grating voice said, “You’re supposed to be in bed, Frankie.”

  Frankie’s eyes snapped open, and she sucked in a breath and gripped the coverlet. Her heart was pounding like a drum, slamming against her ribs. She sucked in another breath, feeling like she couldn’t get enough air.

  A warm, calloused hand cupped her cheek. “Shh, baby, it was just a nightmare.” Trick gathered her close and kissed her hair. “Want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head, burrowing into him, absorbing his warmth and inhaling his scent. She supposed it wasn’t surprising that she’d have a nightmare, given that her mind was full of dark questions to which she had no answers. Still, it had been damn disturbing. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Shit, her voice actually trembled.

  “Shh,” he soothed, kissing her hair again. “Sleep. I’ve got you.”

  She snuggled closer and shut her eyes, but it was a long time before she fell back to sleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The knock at the front door snapped Frankie out of her zone. Dammit. Any other time, she’d have ignored it, but she was waiting on a delivery and needed the materials for her next project.

  She put down her tools, lowered the music, and then pushed up her goggles as she made her way to the front door. As she swung it open, Frankie silently cursed.

  “Hello, Francesca.”

  She forced a smile for Geoffrey. He didn’t return it. His expression was grave, and there was a grim twist to his mouth. No prizes for guessing what had brought him here. Vance had obviously called him about Trick. Weasel.

  Stepping aside, Frankie invited him in with a sweep of her arm. “Can I get you coffee?”

  “Please.”

  Frankie headed to the kitchen, knowing he’d follow. She pulled the goggles off her head and placed them on a stool. As she handled the coffee machine, she flicked him surreptitious glances. Her wolf watched him carefully, distrustful of this man who’d lied to Frankie.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been here.” He glanced out the window. “Your backyard is still in good shape. Do you spend much time out there?”