“Yes. Me.” He was dressed exactly the same as he had been in the coffee shop. How was that possible? How was any of this possible?
“Is this some kind of joke? Or have I fallen asleep?” She rubbed at her head, desperate for any conclusion except the one in front of her. Maybe Nathan had set the whole thing up to test her or something. If she wasn’t dreaming, then Nathan’s involvement seemed as likely as any.
“No.” He shook his head, his voice lower than she remembered. “I realize this was handled very badly. I guess I lost my mind when I heard how he was talking to you and then I smelled your blood. I saw red.”
There had to be sense somewhere in what he said, in this whole evening. Somewhere in the chaos there was always order.
“What do you want with me?” The world didn’t revolve around her, but first he’d approached her at the coffee shop and now—here he was in her house. She was the only common denominator.
“You said I smelled like power. How do you know what that smells like?”
“You followed me here because I said something flippant? Because I gave you a crazy answer instead of saying that you smelled like cinnamon or vanilla or coffee beans or something? I’m sorry. I’ll sniff again and see if I can do better.” She looked at the clock. It was almost six. She had to find Nathan and make sure he called his father for his daily check-in. That meant she had to get this man or wolf or whatever as good and gone as a turkey around Thanksgiving time.
But she couldn’t chop off his head. He’d shift into a wolf and stop her before she could—where the hell had that thought come from?
“See, here’s the thing.” He held his hands out in front of him as though he wanted to pacify her. She stared at his long fingers, transfixed by his every motion. What was it about this man that was so interesting? Well, other than the whole wolf thing.
“The thing?” She scanned the room until she found what she needed. The knife she’d used to chop the onion. It was still on the counter. If she couldn’t hurt him, she could at least make him aware she meant business.
“You’re right. I do smell like power.”
Ego much? “Great. I’m so happy I was right.”
She moved to the left, keeping her gaze off the knife. Let him believe she was turning off the water at the sink. Anything, but what she intended to do. It helped that she still couldn’t seem to look him in the eye. When this was over, if it ever was, and her parents were free of Nathan’s family, she’d find a therapist. Someone who could explain to her why she did the things she did. And then how she could stop doing them.
“But that’s the thing.” Cyrus turned and walked away from her. She appreciated the sight of his backside when he moved toward the counter. What she didn’t like was that he picked up the knife she’d wanted and placed it on the opposite side of the room where she wouldn’t be getting to it. How had he known that’s what she’d intended? He twisted to look at her and she almost gasped from the sheer masculinity pouring off him. Only her sense of self-preservation kept her from reacting.
“Go on.” She had to find something else. Or maybe she should make a run for it. That would be the sensible choice, right?
“The fact that you know I smell like power is because you can really smell me. You’re like me, princess. Do you understand what I’m saying? You’re also a wolf.”
Betsy stopped moving and forced herself to raise her eyes to meet his, even though it hurt to do so Why did it feel like someone had placed a weight on them and made them heavier when she tried to stare at him head on? “I’m not a werewolf or whatever you are. I think I would know if I had the ability to go furry. I get one visitor every month, regularly, and it has nothing to do with the full moon or walking on four legs.”
Cyrus turned beet red. One second he looked all hot and scary, and the next, he flushed and looked anywhere but at her. Men were all the same. Mention the period, and they had no idea what to do with themselves.
Betsy took her chance. She launched herself across the room and dove toward the counter where he’d placed the knife.
Cyrus rushed toward her, but she got there first. She held the knife in her shaking hand. Having never actually threatened anyone with a weapon before, she had no idea how hard it was to do, even if the person who needed the threat was actually part-wolf, had stalked her home—and busted in her door because he smelled her blood and wanted to protect her.
Or maybe that wasn’t what he’d meant. Maybe he wanted to eat her because of her scent? Cyrus still hadn’t said what he wanted with her, other than to talk about what he smelled like.
“Listen, I want you to go. Okay?” Her voice didn’t shake and she had a moment of pride about it. Small victories were all she was going to get.
Cyrus crossed his arms. “Do you mean to stab me with that, princess?” He didn’t look particularly threatened. If anything, he seemed bored. What the hell? She wielded a knife here.
“I don’t want to have to stab you. I don’t want that at all. I’ve never stabbed anyone. I’m not a violent person.” Why was she explaining so much? “I want you to go. Leave me alone. Take your crazy, you’re-a-wolf talking self and get out of my house.”
“This isn’t your house. This is that coward’s house. And I can’t believe you’re living here or wearing his ring because you want to.”
“Why would you say that? You don’t even know me.”
“I know your name is Betsy.” He paused, and, if anything, his gaze became even more smoldering. When he left, she was going to need a shower and vibrator to take care of all the heat coursing though her body. “And I know that you’re mine.”
She opened and closed her mouth. Her ears rang. She lifted the knife up higher. “Get out.”
“I think you know it too. Deep down, your body and soul have always understood something was missing.”
“Stop talking right now.” She thrust the knife closer to him. “Just because I don’t want to use this doesn’t mean I won’t.”
“Oh, I know you would. Your wolf-side knows how to defend itself. Even if it’s suppressed so deeply you can’t find it. The latency has held it off. It did the same thing to your twin sister. But now, I’m told, she’s quite the tough wolf lady.”
Sister? The world seemed to shift beneath her feet. Betsy dropped the knife. Without thought, she grabbed onto his shirt. The werewolf discussion could wait. It was the last part of his response that concerned her. “What did you say?”
Cyrus ran his hand up and down her arms. She felt numb, his previous statement making it impossible for her to feel anything since all of her concentration had gone to staying upright. “Which part?”
“The twin sister. How could you know I had one? How could you possibly?” She tried to shake him, but he didn’t move. Why had the universe made men so big and bulky and left her so small? It wasn’t fair. “She died when I was a toddler.”
Her mother had finally admitted it a few years ago. Betsy had always known about her, had remembered her even though it should have been impossible to do so. Maybe twins didn’t forget, maybe their souls always knew that they had shared a womb with another human. It had been an ache she’d never been able to shake.
“She didn’t.” Cyrus stroked a finger down her nose. “She’s quite alive, and I’m going to get her for you. Get her here. Even though it’s going to make my life hellish to make it happen. I’ll do that for you because you’re mine. My mate. My own.”
“I…” She didn’t have words. Oh, why had she dropped her knife?
Cyrus stepped back. “I’m going to go. This is too much for you. You need time. To process.”
Betsy nodded. Good, that was what she wanted. Wasn’t it? She’d wanted him to leave, except now she didn’t. He was going to get her sister… “I…”
“Hear this. I’m going to stand outside this door for the next ten minutes. After that, there will never be a time when it’s not being watched. That human will not come through the door again. If he does, he
will be torn to shreds. Small ones.”
His words snapped her back into the present. “No.” She grabbed his arm. “Please, Cyrus, whatever is going on here, I still don’t understand. But you can’t keep Nathan from me. Not ever.”
“I can, and I will.” He growled his response, a glint in his eye telling her he was resolute in his answer.
“No.” She shook her head. The tears, she always pretended she didn’t have, fell down her cheeks. “You can’t do that. If you do, all is lost.”
In two seconds, he had her in his embrace. It shouldn’t feel good to be held by a stranger. Not one who confused her, threatened her, and scared her so badly. It shouldn’t. But it did.
“It can’t be all that bad, princess. Tell me. How is all lost?”
“My parents are bad people. They’ve done horrible things. But they’re all that I have. And if you keep Nathan from me, they’re dead. Please don’t do that. Please. Please. Please.”
Begging had never gotten her anywhere in life. But she wasn’t above it. Not when it mattered.
“I think you’d better start from the beginning.”
She pulled back to look at him. “Talking about it won’t help.”
“I’m always going to protect you. You’re mine. I can fix this. After I understand the problem.”
Oh God. Could he? She didn’t know about being his. It all sounded crazy. But maybe he could fix this. Was that even possible? She opened her mouth, and the words flew out.
Chapter Three
Cyrus wasn’t certain he would survive it if Betsy kept crying. He’d never felt as completely out of control as he did in that moment. He did his best to fake control, but the truth was the little woman before him could bring him to his knees if she wanted. He had to find a way to make things right for her—even if it means slaughtering villages and burning barns. He blinked. Where had that thought come from? He hadn’t heard—or thought—that phrase since his grandmother was alive.
Weird.
“My parents have done some bad things. Very, very bad.”
He took a deep breath. “We are not our parents. Whatever others say, I don’t believe we inherit their mistakes. What did they do?”
“Stole and sold babies.” She choked on her words and buried her head in her hands as sobs wracked her.
He blinked. Well, he hadn’t seen that one coming. Cyrus was used to solving the problems of others. His pack came to him for everything. Every problem they had, he tried to fix—from repairing hurt feelings between mated couples and managing unruly teenagers, to solving work heartaches—like his sister’s need to work elsewhere, to define her life in some way other than pack. But stealing children? No, that was a new one.
Cyrus placed a hand on her shoulder. He really wanted to yank her against him and drag her back home. He’d gotten to hold her for a minute, but that was all he’d had. For now. She thought she was human, or at least she didn’t yet believe that she was a werewolf, which was close enough to thinking herself a non-wolf. He had to treat her that way.
“Did you participate in any of it?”
“What?” She wiped at her eyes. “No, of course not.”
“Then you’re not responsible for it.” Simple. End of story.
“You don’t understand. Nathan’s father discovered what they were doing at the same exact time I did. And now he’s holding them prisoner at his compound. If I don’t marry Nathan and make him happy every day, then he is either going to kill them or send them to jail.”
“Wait.” He shook his head. “What?”
“Nathan’s father is going to either kill them or send them to jail if I don’t make his son happy.”
Bullshit. “Princess, are you sure? I mean that sounds nonsensical to me.”
“Listen, I can’t explain it. One second I was having the horrible truth of what my parents really did for a living explained to me. The next? Nathan’s father, Franz, arrived and dragged them off. I’ve been living like this ever since.”
Cyrus needed her to understand. “I’m not discounting that is happening to you. I’m sure it is. But something else is going on.” His nose twitched, always a sign of a lie in the air. In this case, he didn’t smell deceit on Betsy.
“Listen, whatever the details, my parents are at risk. I need Nathan to make his call or…” His mate started to hyperventilate. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she calmed, her shoulders sagging a bit. Cyrus knew how to take care of pack, how to make those for whom he was responsible feel safe, secure, and protected. Some of that was inherent. He may have been born with Alpha tendencies and abilities, but it had been Lucian, the former Alpha-prime, who had fostered it in him.
Now, with his mate upset and everything so unsure, he felt like a novice again.
“I understand your predicament.” Not really, but he wasn’t going to press her right that second. “Can you bear to be patient with me for a few minutes longer?”
With any other pack member—and even if she never shifted, that was what she was to him and more—he’d order them to stay still. But he really didn’t want to tell her what to do. No, he wanted her to desire to do what he said.
By all that was holy, this was really fucked up.
“Sure.” Poor thing sounded as bewildered as he. “I mean I should be throwing you out.”
He shook his head. “No one removes me from places where I want to be. However, I would go if that is what you wished.” He paused, not wanting to leave. “This room. I’d depart this room, but you could be sure I’d remain on the front stoop until I was satisfied with things here.”
“You’re a very odd duck.” Betsy scratched her nose. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Wolf. Not a duck.” He pulled out his cell phone and sent a text to the top members of his pack. He needed trackers and guards. They’d all be there pronto, or he’d know why before he smashed heads together.
Finished, he looked at Betsy. She hadn’t moved, not even an inch, and instead stood very still, worrying her bottom lip. He grinned at the sight. How had this happened? How had she existed in the world and he’d been completely unaware of it until now?
Moments like these didn’t simply pop up out of nowhere. Events occurred because he planned for them, set them in motion. How could he simply walk into a coffee shop and meet his latent mate, who happened to look exactly like Travis’ mate? Although Betsy was ten times prettier than Lilliana. No comparison really.
Betsy had freckles Lilliana didn’t possess, and they made her so…sigh-worthy.
“You’re staring at me.”
He blinked. Holy shit. What the hell had taken over his mind? “Sorry about that. Look, here’s the deal. I’ve called the pack.”
“Pack?” Her voice raised a notch.
“Yes.” Where had the anxiety in her voice come from? “You know what a pack is, don’t you?”
“I do, and that’s what’s made me concerned. How many of you wolf-shifting folks are there around Manhattan?”
“In Manhattan alone? Or do you want to count the five boroughs?” This was information he usually kept to himself. Numbers meant power, and no one needed to know the inner workings of his pack save him. Maybe his willingness to share with her should startle him. Only it didn’t.
He knew she didn’t trust him—he could smell it—but apparently the mistrust didn’t go both ways. Cyrus would tell her whatever she wanted to know.
“No.” She held out her hands in front of her as though warding off an attack. “Forget it, I don’t want to know.”
“Okay. Well, as I summoned the pack. Some are on their way here. Several will track Nathan.” Cyrus could do that himself, easily. Humans didn’t disguise their scents, didn’t stay downwind, and didn’t do anything to keep themselves from being found. But, if he left Betsy alone, she’d likely run, and he couldn’t have that.
Although…the idea had merit. He’d go get Nathan. Then he’d track Betsy. Chase her. Maybe she would really run. His cock jumped, and he a
djusted his pants. How could he have gotten so hard only imagining her running from him?
“What will happen when they find Nathan?”
Cyrus growled, loud enough that it echoed off the walls of her kitchen. She took a step back, and he forced his temper back down where it belonged. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Do you care about Nathan? Don’t want him hurt? Care about his welfare?” If she said yes, he was going to have to take a walk to cool down. Even if it meant the chasing scenario had to take place again.
“What?” Anger—not fear—sparked in her eyes and she scowled at him. “Haven’t you been paying attention? He’s responsible for making my life miserable. No, I don’t care about him, other than for his ability to call home and keep my parents safe.”
Cyrus nodded. His temper cooled, and his hands stopped shaking. If her parents had really done what she said, then there would have to be consequences. He’d never condone child abductions or law breaking. If there was ever a person who counted on the rule of law, it was he.
But he wouldn’t allow his mate to be blackmailed. “Don’t worry. That’s not going to happen.”
“How are you going to make sure of that?”
A knock on the door interrupted—two of his wolves were there. Betsy took a few steps back, her eyes widening at their presence. She was skittish. He needed to remember that when bringing her around new people.
“It’s okay. This is Mitchell and Jenson. They’re part of my pack. Senior members actually. I sent for them, remember?” He turned to his wolves, who stood stiffly and waited for him to address them. “You guys got here fast.”
“We were already in Brooklyn.” Mitchell spoke first. “There’s a very good pizza place. We go almost every Thursday.”
“I’m going to have to try the pizza.”
Jenson nodded, but failed to mask his surprise. “My Alpha, you eat pizza?”
Cyrus didn’t have time for this. “Not usually.” He glanced at his mate, who still stared wide-eyed at his tall wolves. Jensen had at least three inches on Cyrus. Not that it mattered. He could best the other man anytime he wanted, and Jensen personified loyalty. “I usually prefer meat, chicken. That kind of thing.”