Protecting the Wolf's Mate (Blood Moon Brotherhood) Page 7

  Her lungs were too empty too scream. And there was no one to scream to. No one would help her—she had no one. Cyrus had made sure of that.

  This was her fate. Facing death. Alone.

  She couldn’t see through the bag over her head. For that, she was thankful. She’d know some of her tormentors. Maybe Cyrus was right, maybe being blind kept the victim consumed by the pain. But seeing those she’d healed, shared a meal with, or comforted through grief as one of her assailants was a suffering she’d been spared. Besides, they’d been on her so long, pain no longer registered.

  This was a game to Cyrus now. Power. Dominance. She was a means to an end in his eyes. As long as she was alive, she’d bleed. And her blood was all that mattered to him. For that reason, he would never let her go or kill her.

  “The hole,” Cyrus’s calm announcement broke her then, forcing a long, rasping cry from her lips.

  No.

  She couldn’t do it, not again. And Cyrus knew that.

  The hole was complete blackness—the only light a pinprick far overhead. One she’d stared at for hours, waiting, hoping, for some sort of relief. It never came.

  The diameter of the hole forced her to stretch her arms up, over her head, to fit. Each breath was constricting, removing the slight space between her and the walls of her prison. Her bare feet sunk into muck below her. Climbing out was impossible, the walls slick with damp and too slippery to find traction. Still, she’d torn nails free and dislocated fingers trying to escape the black cold. Staying calm was key. Keeping her wolf under control. She couldn’t shift here—too many bones would break.

  But her wolf rebelled, wanting to break free, believing she was capable to climbing out, reaching freedom. Calm. She had to stay calm.

  But the confinement wasn’t the worst of it. Alone, in the dark, time ceased to exist. The mind wandered when left to its own devices. And that was when true punishment began.

  Memories were far more torturous than anything that could be done to her.

  “Ellen?” The voice was soft. Not Cyrus. “Ellen, open your eyes.”

  Open her eyes? Didn’t he see the bag?

  But something changed.

  It wasn’t cold. Her feet were dry. The air smelled clean, not dank and earthy. Only the blackness remained. Partly because her eyes were pressed shut. What would she see? Could she bear it? She sucked in a deep breath, searching for scent—hoping.

  Nothing.

  No scent of Cyrus.

  She lay absolutely still, letting the here and now replace the hellish remains of her nightmare. That was all this was, a terrible dream. No memory, not nightmare. Still, she could wake from it. No cold. No moisture. No difficulty breathing. Her fingers moved, tracing the skin of her forearm. She wasn’t chained. Her arms weren’t pinned overhead.

  “Ellen?” the voice again.

  The fingers that encircled her wrist were familiar. But they weren’t offering her support. They were taking her pulse. Odd that such a clinical action eased her panic.

  “What?” she snapped, knowing exactly who was speaking to her. “What is it, Hollis?” She rolled onto her side, away from him, tearing herself free from his assessment. Breathing was easier now. Thoughts of Cyrus, the hole, pain, and fear fading. “Leave me.” Breathing. Calm and steady breathing.

  “You were talking in your sleep.” Ever calm and emotionless.

  She sat up, glaring at him over her shoulder. Unless she was screaming, he had no business coming into her bedroom. “Perhaps you should stay out of my bedroom. Then I wouldn’t bother—” She realized she’d passed out in the lab. Again. Not the sanctity of her bedroom. “I disturbed you?” That was why he’d woken her.

  His green eyes studied her, like the specimen she was to him. Since her humiliating attempt to seduce him in the shower, he was more reserved than ever. Still, she’d caught him looking at her more than once. “You seemed agitated.”

  “Then the answer is yes, I disturbed you.” She pushed off the floor, tugging on the sweater she’d used for a pillow, and crossed her arms over her waist. “What time is it?”

  “Two. I think.” He turned back to the table covered with his laptop, files, computer printouts, and an ancient volume of folklore he insisted on using as a reference. He was always hunting, always seeking. His brain was never quiet. It was exhausting and oddly fascinating. Of all Finn’s pack, Hollis was the only one she didn’t understand. As frustrating as his refusal to consider nonscientific solutions was, she respected his ability to remain calm and analytical under the most challenging of circumstances.

  He fascinated her.

  More so with each passing day. Maybe it was her wolf, sensing something more. Or maybe it was the lingering effects of that embrace in the shower. He should never have held her close, never have acted as if her well-being mattered. But, for whatever reason, she liked that he saw her as the woman she was, not an enemy. When she was with him, she liked feeling like a woman.

  She studied the man. He wore his daily uniform: a starched button-down oxford and pressed slacks—as if he were on his way to an important business meeting somewhere. For a man so immaculately dressed, his hair was as tousled as ever. She smiled, resisting the urge to smooth the thick copper hair. Always rumpled, it was if he’d lost his comb or forgotten to brush it altogether. “Two in the morning? Or the afternoon?”

  He glanced at his watch. “Morning.”

  She chuckled. “You weren’t sure?”

  Green eyes settled on her. “No. I was working.”

  His curiosity was back. The few instances they were alone, he’d begun to question her about what he’d witnessed in the field—what had happened between her and Byron. She’d yet to give him a straight answer. “Always. You are an odd man,” she murmured. “Your poor wolf must resent you for that.”

  His gaze remained on her, his expression as guarded as ever. “He might. If he existed.”

  Ellen rolled her eyes. “You have a wolf, Hollis. You are a wolf, whether you like it or not. A heart defect can’t stop that.” She dismissed the ailment Hollis insisted prevented his ability to shift. There was more to it than that, there had to be. Shifting would likely cure him from his heart murmur. But that was one topic Hollis refused to discuss with her. Or anyone.

  His left eye twitched, signaling his irritation. It was a small thing, but it was enough. She enjoyed these small victories, pleased to know that he wasn’t as indifferent to her as he pretended. But then, she remembered just how indifferent he’d been in the shower. It—he—had taken her breath away.

  She cleared her throat and tried again. “First, I disturb your work, then I insult your pride. Tell me, are you angry with me?” She leaned against the table, watching him closely.

  “I’m not angry,” he grumbled.

  She grinned. “You’re a terrible liar.”

  He sighed, his forehead creasing as he frowned. “You want me to be angry?”

  “I want you to react,” she countered.

  With a simple shake of his head, he dismissed her and turned back to his work. One long finger trailed over notes, handwritten in red.

  “Is that Jessa’s file?” She came around, leaning over his shoulder to read their notes on the Alpha mate’s file. One note jumped out at her. The same note, every time. Hollis’s script was tiny and careful: “Compare bone with blood samples of J. and baby.”

  The bone. The bone Cyrus wanted more than anything and must never get. In her time here, she’d heard no talk of it—had no idea where it was kept. But Finn and his pack were smart enough to guard that information. As long as it never fell into the Others’ hands, there was no cause to worry.

  “It is.” Hollis never offered up more information than was requested. It was tedious. But she’d learned to accept it was the only power he wielded in this pack. Since he refused to fight the defect that prevented him from becoming his wolf, information mattered most to him. Not just acquiring it but understanding its significance to the smallest d
etail.

  “Still looking for a biological explanation?” Her restlessness had returned, making Hollis easy game. Hollis ran a hand through his hair, his scent distracting her. Clean. Male. Good.

  This close it was impossible to resist him. She ran a hand through his thick hair, pushing his head—playful. Her wolf loved these simple exchanges. It gave her a chance to be close to him, to touch him, and breathe him deep without suspicion.

  He turned on his stool, putting them face-to-face.

  She stepped forward, wedging herself between his legs before she could stop herself. He reacted as he always did when she ventured outside his comfort level. With his green eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched so tightly she wondered the bone didn’t splinter. “Some answers can’t be found in books, Hollis. Is it truly so hard to accept I was right?”

  One copper brow arched. “You think this is about you being right?”

  “Yes.” She chuckled. “Because it means you were wrong.”

  He shook his head, stiffening as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

  Her gaze searched his, wishing their wolves could communicate. It would be easier between them. She teased him because she liked him. On second thought, maybe it was better their wolves couldn’t communicate. If they did, he’d know her wolf liked him far more than she should.

  Chapter Seven

  Hollis’s world was upside down. After years of living carefully, deliberately, he was treading water. While he’d yet to irrefutably determine the cause, there had been a fundamental shift in…everything. One thing he knew: Ellen was at the center of it. What started as playful teasing was now seriously messing with his head, his body, and his self-control.

  She’d poked and prodded until his frustration made him snap. It was a power play for her, something she seemed to need. When he snapped, she responded. Her smile, an authentic smile, was a rarity. And something he’d begun to look forward to. How or when this had begun to alleviate his anxiety, he didn’t know. But it did. Or it had. Until the shower, until he could no longer deny he wanted more than just her companionship. And while he still enjoyed her smiles—he was having a harder time with her teasing.

  Every bit of him was acutely aware of her. Inescapably so. She was driving him crazy. The confusing part was how much he liked it.

  The teasing and touching, the long stares and brush of her body against him. His body reacted. Hard, throbbing, and needing release. A man could only take so many cold showers before they stopped being effective. And if she kept playing with him like this, it was only a matter of time before she saw just how much he was reacting to her.

  What would she do then? Would she still tease and laugh? Part of him didn’t want to know.

  Now, with that gleam in her eyes and the lopsided grin on her full lips, he was caught in her spell. He breathed in, drawing her scent in, and putting his dick at full attention. Damn, but he was doing his best not to stare at her.

  And having no success at all.

  Her eyes, one green and one blue, held him captive. Mesmerizing. To him, she was quite possibly the most fascinating creature he’d ever met. Of course, her array of tight tank tops and low-slung black utility pants revealed the curves and dips of her incredible body. And that fact that she never, ever, wore a bra. Her nipples pressed tight against the thin knit, begging for attention. Like now. Tempting him. Driving home just how little control he had over his own body.

  But he couldn’t ignore the never-ending map of scars that covered most of her body. Flaunting her survivor status, defiantly refusing to be a victim. To him, her scars and her strength defined and enhanced her beauty. And reminded him she’d been through enough. He didn’t want to add any scars, internal or otherwise.

  She would laugh at that. Him? Being able to hurt her? She’d find that hilarious.

  A small smile crossed her lips. “You think too much,” she whispered, her fingers sliding through his hair.

  “So I’ve heard.” He swallowed.

  She sighed. “Well, tell me, Hollis, have you made any new discoveries since I fell asleep?”

  He shook his head.

  “No.” She laughed. “Of course not. I feel certain you could recite every word and note in that file without prompt.” She yawned, stretching her arms behind her and pulling her shirt taut. “Aren’t you tired? Craving a fluffy bed, soft sheets, and warm blankets to burrow under?”

  At the moment, the last thing he was feeling was tired. He was headed to a cold shower. Possibly a frigging ice bath if she didn’t give him a rest. The tight tips of her breasts strained against her shirt. Making his pants unbearably tight. He cleared his throat and shrugged. He would have gone to bed two hours ago, but she’d fallen asleep. And he couldn’t leave her alone.

  For all her bravado, he knew she didn’t sleep well. Waking her up had become one of his many responsibilities. He didn’t mind. If he could pull her out of whatever hell waited for her when she drifted off to sleep, he would. Besides, he liked being close to her. He’d stopped asking himself why since none of the answers made sense. “I wanted to review it again,” he mumbled. “Sometimes the eye needs distance to see something new.”

  She glanced at the file, reaching forward so that her breast brushed against his shoulder. Her scent slammed into him and stole his focus. His baser instincts had never interfered with his work and focus before. Now, his baser instincts were constantly on the verge of taking control. And it pissed him off.

  “To my unscientifically trained eye, they look well. Jessa is growing stronger. And Diana, pink and round.” She sighed. “Does your learned opinion differ? Baby Diana and Jessa are doing well, are they not? No need to worry there, so what are you looking for?”

  She was right. After the weeks they’d spent poring over the data prior to Jessa’s delivery, it was nice to know Jessa and the baby were no longer in harm’s way. As long as the Others weren’t part of the equation. “Her bloodwork is perfectly normal now. The increased hormones and enzymes of her pregnancy are gone—along with the altered proteins brought on by Diana’s chromosomal deviations.”

  “Deviation?” she asked, grinning. If she’d move one step back, he could turn around, put space between them. She didn’t. “Is it truly impossible for you to accept how special Finn’s children are, Hollis? First Oscar. Now Diana. They will be as strong as their father—possibly stronger. If Mal would breed Olivia, I have no doubt her pregnancy would be easy and the child just as strong and healthy as Finn’s.”

  Hollis shook his head. They wanted two very different things. She wanted the wolves to thrive, he wanted them to no longer exist. “We’ve covered this. Mal has no interest in breeding with Olivia.”

  Ellen sniffed, grinning widely. “He has little interest in anything.” Her brows rose. “But he has no interest in fatherhood at the moment.”

  “That’s what I meant.” He ran a hand through his hair. Between Mal and Olivia, and Alpha Finn and his mate, Jessa—the number of their pack could double in no time. But no one wanted that. Growing a family was one thing. Growing a pack was another.

  Ellen might think shape-shifting was some great honor, but he did not. This world—werewolves, full moons, and violent pack feuds—wasn’t something they’d chosen. How the hell could they relish bringing a new generation into their world? He couldn’t imagine it. He had one goal: a cure for the infection in their blood might give them a chance at a normal live. Well, relatively normal.

  He’d begun testing shortly after being infected. Every vaccine and trial had led to nothing but frustration. He had every resource available to him, yet he’d nothing to show for it. That was why he was looking through her file again. Hope. Resolve. And growing desperation.

  Ellen studied him, making no effort to pretend otherwise. When she was done, she shook her head.

  What was she looking for? Thinking? Did she want him to ask? Or was this another way of teasing him? He shouldn’t let her get in his head and press the buttons. He shouldn’t give h
er the satisfaction. He pressed his lips together, watching as her eyes narrowed slightly. Now what? Dammit. “What?” he asked.

  “You should find a mate,” she said, tilting her head. “It might help you relax. Smile a little.”

  He laughed. “Relax? Sure. Because nothing says relaxation like having a mate. Bonding. Relationship. Commitment. I don’t think so.” He would never do that to himself or the woman he cared for. It was selfish and foolish. He’d like to think he was neither. “There’s important work to be done first. I can’t waste my time on anything else.” He didn’t want the distractions that Finn and Mal were saddled with since finding their mates. They couldn’t make a decision without worrying over Jessa and Olivia.

  “You’re right. A bond requires work and time.” She paused, running a hand along her neck and down her shirt front. Her soft moan made the hair on the back of his neck stand tall. “No mate then. But sex? Mate or no, Hollis, everyone has time for sex. When there’s no hunt or fight to be had, sex is the best way to keep the wolf tame.” She leaned forward, her breath tickling his ear. “If it’s done well, you might even make time for it. Sex would do you some good.”

  She was a hairbreadth away. So close. Close enough. All he had to do was turn and his lips would be on the skin of her neck. He stared at her neck. The thrum of her pulse. Her sweet scent. The brush of her hair on his forehead.

  “It feels good.” She pressed her hand against the side of his face. “Don’t you want to feel good?”

  She had no idea what she was doing to him. Or did she? He cleared his throat, refusing to be distracted by her gaze or the softness of her touch. “I will feel better when I’ve found a cure.”

  She sighed, straightening. “When your wolf breaks free, it will be interesting to watch.”

  “We’re not talking about this again.” He meant it. Her preoccupation with his wolf’s existence only reinforced the fact that he didn’t have one. If he did, he’d know it.

  Finn, Mal, Dante, and Anders all had an obvious relationship with their wolves. Each of them were separate, strong and capable creatures that lived inside their human skins. For the most part, they were a team, working together. Apparently, relationships between man and wolf could be complicated. Mal remarked on more than one occasion that he wanted his wolf to “shut the fuck up.” But that was Mal. Olivia said she enjoyed the camaraderie she and her wolf shared.