Between Two Wolves and a Hard Place (3 page)

I open my fingers, and the bottle falls to the floor.

"Let go," I whisper, and slowly he does so, one finger at a time. I snatch my wrist back, rubbing at my skin.

"Well," says the woman, smirking. "This has been... interesting. Dean. Drake. Shall we?"

I stare at her, eyes narrowed. "Who the hell are you?"

"Oh, haven't you heard?" Her smirk turns into an innocent, wide-eyed look. "I'm Leena. I'm going to be mated with Dean and Drake."

Her words hit me like a fist to the stomach. Just as she knew they would. "Mated?" I turn to Drake, who's scowling. "Seriously? With her?"

Leena straightens. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The bouncer very, very carefully interjects. "Ma'am? I'm going to have to ask you to leave." With Dean and Drake there, he's not about to throw his weight around.

Drake turns to the bouncer. "I got this." He looks to me. "Kiera. I'll see you out."

Dean's already turned away, walking toward a booth in the back, Leena hanging off his arm. No goodbyes. I stare at his back and sigh, all the fury draining from me. My head is spinning. I feel exhausted. "Fine," I say, then dig two twenty-dollar bills from my purse and throw them on the bar as if I'm rich. I get off my stool and stride out the front door, ignoring the stares and whispers that follow in my wake.

The cold air hits me like a tonic, helping to clear my mind. I take a deep breath and turn to stare at Drake, who steps out after me. We simply look at each other for a long, aching moment. I want nothing more than to step forward for one of his amazing hugs. Back in the day, he always played the peacemaker between Dean and me. I loved him just as much, but in a different way - Dean was dangerous, intense, unpredictable, while Drake was perfect for geeking out with over our favorite TV shows or simply grabbing a coffee at the Gypsy Cafe and kicking back.

"Leena?" I search his handsome face. "Drake, you have to be kidding me."

His expression hardens. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. "Go home, Kiera."

I've already put my foot in my mouth. Shoving it a little deeper at this point won't hurt. "Drake, but why? Why her?"

"Why Leena?" He takes a step closer, and I'm reminded that while Drake was always the friendlier of the two, he is still most definitely a werewolf. I have to fight to not take a step back. "You don't get to ask that question. You don't get to ask anything. You left us, Kiera. You left, and you never came back." His voice is as cold as wind blowing off a glacier. "Go home. See your parents. Do whatever you came back to do. Then get the hell back to New York, and quit pretending you care."

I don't know what to say. My mouth opens and closes. Drake shakes his head. "Drive safe," he says, voice bitter. Then he turns and strides back into Fool's Gold, leaving me devastated and even more alone in the dark parking lot.

Chapter 3

I drive up to my parents' house. I want nothing more than to sneak in the kitchen door, creep up the stairs to my old bedroom, and slip under my comforter and forget about the world. But as I kill the car headlights, I see that my dad's sitting out on the wrap-around porch, smoking his pipe. I sigh. It's not that I'm not happy to see him. It's just that I'm more than ready for this day to end.

I climb out and close the door, and he looks over at me without surprise, almost as if he's been waiting for me to arrive. I walk up the path to the porch steps and smile at my dad. He's got a plaid blanket over his lap, a mug of something at his elbow, and looks so familiar and wonderful that I feel tears prickle in my eyes.

"Hello, Kay." His voice is worn and soft like suede, and at the sound of his nickname for me, the tears overflow and I rush up onto the porch to kneel by his side and bury my face in his lap. "Hey, now," he murmurs, running his hand over my head. "Are you that happy to see me?"

I laugh and sit back on my heels. "Oh, Dad." I don't know where to begin. There's a knot the size of a tennis ball in my throat. He's wearing his half-moon glasses, and there's a depth and wealth of kindness and wisdom in his face that smoothes over all the jagged edges of my life. I'm home. It's as simple as that, and for the life of me I can't remember why I've stayed away.

"Everything's gone all wrong," I say. Tears well once more. "Everything."

The one thing that always infuriated me as a child, but which I've come to cherish as I've grown up, is my dad's complete lack of judgment. I've never heard him condemn anybody else. Never heard him cut somebody down, or talk behind somebody's back. His eyes express his doubts, his misgivings, but his mouth, never. I remember telling him about Marv, trying to make my new boyfriend sound absolutely amazing, and seeing that look of doubt in my dad's eyes. I felt a chill, but I did my best to forget it. Now, kneeling before him, my heart broken and my life ruined, I look into his eyes and see no judgment. Just love.

He reaches down to the boards by his side, and pulls up a second mug. I'm almost surprised, but my dad's always had this sixth sense. What I get in little touches here and there, he's lived with powerfully all his life. A presentiment of things to come. I know better than to ask how he knew I'd be coming home tonight. He simply did.

"Here," he says, handing me the mug. He lifts his own. "Hot chocolate. Now tell me. What happened?"

I cup my hands around the hot ceramic, and of course it's my favorite mug, tall and extra large, its surface covered with glazed rainbow colors. I take a sip. It's delicious.

"Marv stole Iron and Roses from me." My voice is small. "When I restructured it for tax purposes? He changed things so that he gained a controlling interest. And everything I have belongs to the company. My apartment. Even my car. And, Dad." My outrage swims back up, weak and diluted, but still there. "He's going to sell my art for absurd prices. He's going to get rich over my art, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"Hmm," rumbles my dad, and he sucks on his pipe. He leans back in his rocking chair, and blows out a cloud of aromatic smoke. "Would you like me to ask Mr. Hanscomb to get involved?"

Mr. Hanscomb is dad's friend and attorney, in that order. An incredibly elegant and intelligent man, he's luckily had to do little work for my dad, but I know he'd be more than willing. "Sure," I sigh. The thought of legal battles exhausts me. I force myself to rally. It's exactly this disinclination to attend to details that got me into this mess. "Yes, please."

"All right. I'll call him in the morning." My dad sucks on his pipe once more, and we sit there in companionable silence. I can feel myself slowly relaxing. It's weird to be sitting on this porch in my gallery dress. I feel like I should be in jeans and an old shirt. I sip on my hot chocolate, gazing out into the dark woods that surround our home.

"Whatever course Mr. Hanscomb advises you take, this process is going to take awhile. Nothing moves fast in court." My dad's voice is soft. "What are you going to do in the meantime?"

"What am I going to do?" I ask the question of myself, wanting to laugh. "I don't know. My plan was to come home. I hadn't thought beyond this point."

"You're obviously welcome to stay for as long as you like." He's watching me over the top of his glasses. Rocking gently. "Perhaps a little down time would do you good."

I immediately think of Dean and Drake. Of Leena. Being back in Honeycomb Falls might be more challenging and difficult than I imagined. "Yeah, maybe." A wave of depression washes over me. "I've got nothing left. All my art. All my work. It's all tied up with Iron and Roses." Years of struggling and creating. Gone.

"You've still got your talent," says my dad. "Nobody can take that away from you."

I want to protest, to say something nasty about myself, but I can't look in my dad's eyes and voice my self-pity. So I sigh and nod.

"One way or another, everything is going to work itself out." My dad's smile is almost apologetic. "I know this isn't comforting to hear, but you're still so young. You've got your whole life before you. However big a speed bump this turns out to be, nothing will hold you back, Kay." His smile becomes wry. "Nothing ever has."

I laugh and look down. "Yeah, maybe." The thought of kicking around the house for a few days, eating my mother's food and walking in the woods, sounds good. I'll avoid the wolf boys, keep my head low, and once I've caught my breath, then I'll head back to New York and face Marv. "Thanks, Dad."

He leans forward and pulls me into a hug. "Welcome home, Kay."

A feeling of warmth and security steals over me. I hug him tightly, and then stand. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Sure thing." He looks back out at the dark woods. "Sleep well."

I smile, then let myself in through the front door. For the first time all evening, I feel a mixture of resignation, peace, and contentment. I'm finally home.

Chapter 4

I watch as Leena finishes her glass of wine. Her lips haunt me as they press against the edge of her glass. Her beauty arouses a storm of emotions within me, not all of them noble. I sit in silence as she lowers her glass, sets it on the table, then rises to her feet.

"If you boys will excuse me," she says, giving us both a smoldering smile, and then strides toward the bathroom. I watch her go. Watch her ass in that tight mini-skirt. She knows I'm watching. She knows, and as a result she walks provocatively. I could follow her into the restroom. I could follow her into the stall, and take her there, against the wall. One leg hitched up by my hip, her skirt bunched around her waist. Her eyes watching me, mocking me, driving me on.

Drake sighs and sits back, turning his bottle of beer idly in small circles. "You doing OK?"

I snort. "What do you think?"

Drake smiles, but the expression doesn't last. He doesn't smile as much as he used to. Not since Leena entered our lives. "I'm guessing you're as stirred up as I am."

"Yeah." My bottle's empty. I should order another, but something holds me back. Too many beers, and I'll lose control of my wolf. Get in a fight. Fuck Leena in a bathroom stall. One more small step into the darkness. So I hold back. For now.

"She looked upset," says Drake. His voice is pensive.

"She looked good," I growl, and then regret it. I don't want to think about Kiera. I don't want to think about her laughter, her wit. I don't want to remember summers gone by. A life that could have been. A wound that's not healed, but simply been buried deep.

"Yeah," sighs Drake. "She did. No matter what Leena said."

I snort. "Leena sensed a threat. She went on the attack."

Drake laughs. "And nearly got cut as a result. Hot damn. When Kiera broke that bottle I thought things were going to get ugly."

"Yeah." I'm sunk in my seat, chin on my chest. I feel lazy. Angry. All I need is some form of provocation to lash out. "Took me by surprise."

"She's changed," said Drake. Still studying his beer bottle. "I guess we all have."

I snort again. "Of course we have. We're older. We're alphas of a pack. We've finally got a mate. Everything's changed."

Drake looks up at me. He's got a way of getting past my defenses. Like nobody else. "Yeah, but didn't you feel it? For one moment, when we first saw her sitting there, like old times? Didn't you get the feeling that at some level, nothing had changed?"

This I don't want to hear. This I don't want to contemplate. Because he's right. For one moment, standing in the doorway, watching as Kiera turned around to stare at me, I felt a sense of déjà vu so strong it was disorienting. I felt like I was eighteen again, burning with desire and the need for her voluptuous curves. Felt like I was living that last torturous summer once more, where our friendship was deepening and turning into something else, day by day, night by night. When my inner wolf had grown sure that Kiera was the woman for me. For the both of us. The life mate who would unite us, make us strong.

Make me whole.

Instead, she cut and ran. Left Drake and me in the dust for a workshop in Europe. Fell off the face of the world, and disappeared.

I growl, low and ugly. "No." I glare at Drake, knowing he knows I'm lying, but lying anyway. "I didn't feel anything."

Drake raises one eyebrow, but is wise enough to stay quiet.

"So," says Leena, stepping back up to the table. "Who's getting me the next glass?"

Of course Drake stands up. Always the gentleman. He heads to the bar, and Leena sits across from me, crossing one leg over the other and studying me. "Why, aren't you in a sour mood."

Leena's sharp. Not necessarily intelligent, but I know she possesses an instinct for moods, thoughts, and weaknesses that makes her as much a predator as I am. I clench the muscles of my jaw and look away.

Leena leans forward, and slides a hand up my thigh. "You're all riled up, aren't you, Dean?" Her voice is low and sultry. "You thinking about that girl from your past? What's her name? Kerry?"

"You know what her name is," I say, turning to lock eyes with her. She smiles, completely unabashed. Her ability to lock eyes with me was what finally convinced me she might work as our mate.

"Hmm," she said, squeezing the muscles of my leg. "Kiera. Your ghost from the past." She knows she's playing with fire, but she plays anyway.

"Yeah."

Leena smiles, but there's no humor in her expression. It's darkly seductive, calling to my wolf. "Take me outside, around back. Press me against the wall. Take your aggression out on me. Make me moan. You'll feel better. You'll feel so much better."

And oh, how I want to. But I also know that will only make things worse in a way I don't quite understand. Each time I give in to my impulses, each time I unleash my anger, Leena's hold on me grows. It makes no sense. She's weaker than I am. I'm the alpha. Yet she understands me. Part of me. In a way I don't. And the more I dominate her, the less control I seem to have.

"A glass for my lady," says Drake, setting a glass down before her. Leena flashes a smile at Drake and sits back, releasing my thigh. He taps me on the shoulder. "Hey, Dean. Come help me pick a song on the jukebox."