Betrayed: Days of the Rogue (14 page)

Rafe made no move except for a
slight nod, but it was sufficient reassurance. The air shimmered
and a man stood before him. Thin, but still well-muscled, above
average height, black hair. Yep, it was Damien Masterson.

Giving no sign of recognition, Rafe
inclined his head towards a log on the far side of the fire. “Have
a seat if you want.”

Damien studied him carefully before
sitting down. His posture was loose and relaxed but his eyes gave
him away, watchful, no doubt expecting some sort of trap. The man
had been a rogue long enough to have experienced the prejudice
normal Lycans held towards his kind. While it was understandable
that others reacted that way, Rafe knew the mental damage constant
rejection could cause; knew how it pushed the recipient closer and
closer to the edge.

“Nice to have some company now and
then.” Rafe glanced at his companion and then looked away. “Mind
you, I enjoy the quiet, too.”

Damien merely grunted.

Sometimes it took an hour or two
before a rogue was willing to open up. Rafe settled back prepared
to wait. He had all night.

Time passed. The Alpha—Rafe—sat
staring at the flames, occasionally turning the meat that roasted
on the fire. There was nothing threatening about him, but neither
was he submissive. They were meeting as equals; it was…reassuring.
Slowly, Damien relaxed. How long had it been since he’d sat in the
presence of another Lycan without having to worry about being
attacked or run out of the territory?

A sigh escaped him, and he adjusted
himself into a more comfortable position. His damaged leg often
cramped in the cool night air.

Rafe quirked an eyebrow obviously
taking his movement as a sign that he was ready to talk. “Where you
from?”

“Does it matter?” He stiffened,
wondering how the other man would respond.

“Not really.” Rafe shrugged, his
eyes never moved from the flames he was watching. “Just curious if
I have to worry about Trackers from Rogue Retrieval showing up
here.”

Damien considered his answer.
Honesty would likely have him tossed out on his ass. “It’s not
likely.” That was a lie but he’d become skilled at it out of
necessity. “I haven’t done anything. Nothing...illegal.”

This time Rafe flicked a glance his
way, looking him up and down. “Yeah. Guys who choose to live like
wolves, and look like shit, have never done anything.” He gave a
small shrug and returned to staring at the fire. “This is a quiet
territory. As long as you don’t cause a ruckus, your background
doesn’t really matter.”

“Yeah. Nothing matters.” Damien
stared at the flames, lost in dark memories of another fire, the
one that had torn his life apart. He resisted the urge to rub the
ache in his right leg; never show weakness, that was his motto.

How long he sat there he didn’t
know, but suddenly he was aware of McRae coming closer, his hand
extended. Instinctively, Damien leapt into a defensive crouch,
ready to strike out at the enemy. Just in time he noticed the other
man was holding a plate of food.

He relaxed and stood straighter,
but didn’t apologize for the near attack. For a moment their eyes
met. McRae’s expression was calm, his hand steady as he waited for
Damien to take the plate.

Reluctant respect for the man rose
within him; most would have flinched in the face of a near attack.
He let his gaze fall to the offered dish. A quick sniff told him it
was rabbit and a serving of canned beans. Taking the plate, he sat
down.

“You look like you haven’t eaten
much. Strange. I haven’t found the hunting to be that poor.” Rafe
sat down again, took a piece of meat in his fingers and began to
eat.

“No. Lots of game about.” Damien
was surprised when his stomach growled at the tantalizing scent. It
had been ages since he’d had much of an appetite. He ate when he
remembered to, which wasn’t often.

“You moved pretty fast a minute
ago. So you can’t be skin and bones because you’re a lousy
hunter.”

Once again, Damien forced himself
to be civil. “Why all the questions?” He ripped a chunk of meat off
with his teeth and started to chew. It tasted surprisingly
good.

“No reason.” Rafe shrugged. “I
don’t usually find a rogue wolf on my land. I’m curious.”

Silence fell as they both ate.

When the meal was done, Rafe leaned
back and stretched. “You know, a few minutes ago when I was handing
you that plate, you reacted like someone with training. An
Enforcer, or an Academy grad, at least.”

Damien studied the man, checking
his demeanour, his breathing rate, his scent. There was a hint of
deception in the air, yet his gut sensed no malice. “Could be.”

Rafe poked the fire with a stick
and a log shifted sending a shower of sparks into the air. They
burned brightly for a brief moment before extinguishing and
disappearing from view. Damien felt his throat tighten. Just like
Beth; a bright light quickly snuffed out... He blinked and cursed
the memories that seemed determined to push to the foreground
tonight. Shit, he should’ve stayed in his wolf form. The pain was
always present, but his wolf’s mind wouldn’t be making these types
of connections.

“I was at the Academy once.” Rafe
spoke conversationally, and Damien jerked into awareness of the
man’s presence again. If Rafe had noticed his inattention, he gave
no sign. Instead the man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It was
about ten years ago. I did a half course Academy and a half course
university my first year, before switching to straight
academics.”

Damien studied his host. He didn’t
fit the stereotype of a scholar, looking more the part of a drill
sergeant who’d bark an order to do a hundred push-ups before
breakfast. His curiosity about the man piqued. “Did you go back to
your pack when you were done?”

Rafe shook his head. “I had some
money, earned a bit more and then bought this chunk of land. I took
over the main place and now I’m starting to fix the cabins. My
ultimate plan is to rent them out. People like to come here for
quiet vacations; fishing, getting back to nature and whatnot.” He
chuckled. “At least that’s what the former owner told me. This is
the first year I’ve tried the rental thing.”

A thought began to form and Damien
narrowed his eyes, considering the pros and cons of acting on it.
He was tired, damned tired, and the idea of sleeping in the same
bed for a few nights held some appeal. Plus he’d be able to stay
close to Eve. “What do these cabins cost to rent?”

“Why? You interested in one?”

Damien shrugged. He had some money,
not much but enough. Renting a cabin hadn’t been part of the plan,
but since when did his plans ever run smoothly?

“So, what do you think?”

“About…?” He realized he’d missed
part of the conversation.

“Working for me. Some of these
cabins are pretty old. I bought the land a while ago but haven’t
had enough time to repair them all. Two are habitable—mine and one
I’m renting out—but a third isn’t in bad shape. You can stay in it
as long as you want. Instead of paying rent, you help me fix them
up.”

Damien kept his face neutral as he
considered the offer. Why did McRae want him to stay? Was it part
of an elaborate trap set by Lycan Link? Or was the offer genuine
and he was just an Alpha looking for an extra set of hands?

He tried to sort through what was
truth and what wasn’t. Why was he worried about Lycan Link? Was
some sixth sense trying to warn him about McRae, or was he starting
at shadows? Too many months alone were affecting his thinking. Was
this what happened to rogues? Did they slowly go insane as distrust
and paranoia overtook them? Well, if he was teetering on the brink,
at least he’d have a place to stay. And he could wait and watch
until it was time to strike.

“I’m not much of a handyman.” It
was best not to sound too eager.

“Not a problem. It’s mostly
painting, clearing away some trees, nailing loose boards into
place. Most of the major repairs like wiring and plumbing I’ll hire
out.”

Damien studied the man again,
testing the air, still wondering if this could be some form of a
trap. The arrangement had the earmarks of being legit, there were
no warning signals in his gut, no prickling of his senses but
something didn’t add up.

“Why the offer?”

“Because you’re a Lycan. Because
dealing with humans can be…awkward…when they ask nosey questions.
And because you’re a rogue who appears to be down on his luck.”
McRae’s gaze was steady. “I’ve had friends who’ve gone rogue.
Consider me a philanthropist of sorts.”

Damien nodded slowly. In this the
man was definitely telling the truth.

Chapter 10

Eve paced around the living-room, a
pillow clutched to her chest. It had been three days with no sign
of the wolf and no word from Rafe. Given how they’d parted, she
hadn’t called him even though she wanted to hear his voice
again.

“I must be some sort of masochist,”
she muttered. “Why would I want to talk to him otherwise? The man’s
as cold as ice…well, except for when he’s kissing that is.”

A smile curved her lips at the
memory. The kiss had been wonderful. Slow and sexy, then bursting
into a blaze of passion. She’d replayed it over and over in her
head, and it had figured heavily in some incredibly erotic
dreams.

The need to experience those
feelings once more consumed her. She wanted to kiss him again, to
explore the muscles she’d felt beneath her palm, to feel his hot
length pressed against her. Damn that gun for being in the way!

Rafe had given no indication that
he felt the same way, however. Afterwards he’d been his usual
stone-faced self. What was up with that? After much pacing and
debate, she’d decided to tackle him about it when he returned from
checking for the wolf. Unfortunately, he’d headed straight for his
pickup. When she’d rushed out onto the porch, intent on getting him
to stay and talk, he’d allowed her no opportunity.

Flicking his sunglasses down over
his eyes, he’d given his report while climbing into the truck. “All
clear. Stay inside.”

And before she could protest, the
engine had roared to life and he’d driven away. Curse the man.

Well, she’d tried. For three days
now she’d stayed inside, keeping herself occupied with her painting
and reading, but now she was restless. She wanted to go for a walk,
to talk to someone, to do…
something.

Hadn’t Rafe said that rogues were
transient? If so, then obviously this one must have moved on;
surely three days without a sighting was a significant amount of
time. She paced the length of the cabin once more, casting longing
glances out the window. Should she chance going outside for a walk?
Rafe had the gun now so she’d be unprotected. No, that wasn’t a
good idea. But…what about going for a drive?

She’d be safe inside the car,
right? And her mailbox was down by the highway, a public highway
with lots of traffic. No wild animal would hang out there. A wide
grin broke out on her face at the prospect of doing something, and
in no time she was ready to go.

A quick glance about still showed
no sign of the wolf, but just in case, she ran the short distance
to the car. Once inside, she grinned, feeling quite safe and ready
for an adventure.

The trip to the mailbox was
unexciting. Her car bounced and shimmied over the rough dirt track
that served as a driveway, twisting this way and that as it
meandered through the forest. All the cabins had their own laneway,
but they eventually merged together into the main drive that led to
the highway.

Once there, Eve checked again for
the wolf before exiting the car. She wasn’t going to give Rafe any
more cause for calling her careless. Yep, the coast was clear. No
wolf in sight. Clambering out of the vehicle, she strolled to the
mailbox, waving at the town’s people that occasionally drove past,
beeping their horn at her as a form of greeting.

There were six old-fashioned metal
mail boxes lined up in a row; one for each rental cabin and one for
Rafe’s place. Hers was stuffed with the usual junk mail, a credit
card bill and—hurray—a note from a gallery saying they were indeed
interested in an exhibit of her work and would she please read over
the enclosed contract.

Leaning against the fender of her
car, she spent some time skimming over the contents of the
envelope. It all appeared to be in order, and she’d begun to plan
what pictures to include when an all too familiar feeling made her
shoulders twitch. Someone, or something, was watching her!

She quickly spun around, studying
the trees, looking for some evidence that anyone was present. As
always, there was no one there. The roadway stretched empty on
either side of her as well.

Eve dragged her hand through her
hair, wondering if being Fae also meant developing paranoia and
sensing things that didn’t really exist. Maybe she was becoming
sensitive to ghosts, long dead fishermen who haunted the edge of
the lake looking for that perfect trout they’d never caught? A
snort escaped her at the ridiculous idea, and she climbed into her
vehicle and headed home rather miffed that her grand adventure had
ended on the same uncomfortable note that had plagued her all too
often lately.

She hadn’t travelled far when
something appeared in the road ahead of her. It was an animal of
some sort. Sighting them was nothing new. Slowing her speed, she
continued to contemplate her upcoming exhibit, expecting the
creature to run off into the forest in a second or two; that’s how
they usually responded to traffic. Strangely enough, this one
stayed in the middle of the road. Was it injured or merely curious?
Perhaps a young deer that didn’t know any better?

As she drew closer she was able to
discern its shape more clearly and groaned in frustration when she
saw it was the wolf again. The contrast of bright blue sky and deep
shadows from the trees made it difficult to discern the animal’s
features, but she’d seen the beast often enough to know its
outline. Pointy ears, four legs, bushy tail… Yep, a wolf. Well,
that likely explained the being-watched feeling.