I See Me (18 page)

She stopped the car on the parking lot entrance ramp, tugging the blouse away from her neck to reveal a coiled mass of fading scars.

Beau grunted, pushed his seat belt underneath his arm, and turned to her while lifting his hoodie and T-shirt.

I watched, jealousy seething in my stomach, as Lara eyed Beau’s chest and ridged abs. I hadn’t realized that he still bore angry-looking, half-healed burn marks from whatever Hoyt had thrown at him … in my hallucination … right?

Lara smiled, but not in her scary way. She reached over and lightly raked her violet-painted nails across Beau’s muscled belly. He lowered the T-shirt, nodding at her solemnly.

She returned the nod, then pulled the SUV out of the parking lot and onto the street.

Something intimate had just happened between them. It made me uncomfortably, irrationally jealous. It also made it even more clear that I had no idea what was going on and no idea how to deal with any part of what my mind was throwing my way.

What if this was all real? What if the real insanity was the process of having denied it this long? What if Blackwell, and Beau’s burns, and Lara who was supposedly a wolf, were all real?

As Lara maneuvered the huge vehicle expertly through the city, I gripped the handhold over the window by my head — the SUV so tall that I could barely reach it. Then, remembering, I dug my hand into my hoodie pocket for my mother’s necklace. It was stupid to have left it there. With the large stone and the thick chain coiled in the palm of my hand, I found I couldn’t actually close my fingers around it.

Feeling more grounded, I looked up to see Lara watching me in the rearview mirror again. Her gaze was calculating and penetrating. When I managed to look away, I caught her frown on the edge of my vision.
 

Then she laughed, the tenor of which let me know that werewolves weren’t at all like Beau’s tiger. By that look and that laugh, they were ruthless predators. I didn’t have to see Lara in animal form to know that. I knew predators. Growing up in the foster system had put me in front of more than one. Though I’d survived those encounters mostly unscathed, I couldn’t say the same for some of my childhood friends … well, childhood acquaintances.

“Is there a good tattoo parlor in Portland?” I asked.

“Of course,” Lara replied. “Do you have a need?”

I lifted my eyes to meet her gaze in the mirror again. I thought about sketching a wolf paw and having it tattooed among the barbed wire on my left arm. I would draw the paw pierced through its soft pad with a single barb.

Pleased with this idea, I smiled.

This time Lara looked away. She didn’t meet my gaze again.
 

Yeah, I knew how to deal with predators.

Don’t be prey.

Lara drove us a few blocks through the city before turning left, after which we climbed a short, steep hill and entered a high-end neighborhood. The meticulous homes — mansions, really — ran the range from vintage to brand-new, or in some cases, still under construction. The area resembled the snobby British Properties in West Vancouver, except the hill wasn’t a mountain and the water view was a river, not the ocean. Still, so close to downtown, I imagined this was prime real estate.

Ten minutes later, we pulled up to a sprawling, single-level modern home perched on the edge of the hill. Lara parked the SUV in front of what appeared to be a three-car garage. She climbed out without a glance or word to either of us.

Beau turned his dark aquamarine eyes to me in the back seat. “We’ll figure this all out,” he said. “You’ll be safe here.”

“Will you?”

He smiled, but the expression didn’t hold any of his usual easygoing charm. “She came alone and didn’t kill me on sight.”

“We were in public.”

“True.” He stepped out of the SUV and crossed back to my door. He opened it but I didn’t move. I didn’t look at him.

“Passive resistance?” he asked, teasing.

“I was thinking about it.”

“Need some help, kitten?” Lara called. She’d walked partway to the double front door. A short stone path broke off from the driveway and ran across the front lawn. A wide, tall hedge hid the house from the street. “I’d be happy to carry the not-a-witch.”

She was standing with one hip cocked, and jangling her car keys in her left hand. Then she caught me looking and stopped. I’d never thought to use my weird, pale eyes to intimidate anyone before. Maybe eye contact was just a big deal for werewolves for some reason. I noticed that Beau didn’t look at Lara directly either.

“You’re nervous,” I said to Lara. “Why?”

Lara lost the mocking smile and took an aggressive step toward me.
 

Beau stepped into the space within the open door, blocking my sight of the supposed werewolf as he reached across to undo my seat belt.

“I don’t like that she’s nervous,” I whispered against his warm neck.

“She can hear you,” he said, but it wasn’t a warning, just information. “All shapeshifters have great hearing. And she’s nervous because she’s bringing an unknown Adept — you — into pack territory.”

He stepped away from the car, holding his hand out to me. Then he very deliberately looked back at Lara. “Plus, I’m bigger than her.”

Lara snorted, then bared her teeth. “I’m a pack enforcer, kitten. I could have killed you in the park without anyone looking at me twice.”

“I’d see you,” I said.

Lara flicked her gaze to me. I took Beau’s hand and climbed out of the SUV. It was a long step down to the ground, but I held Lara’s gaze the entire time.

“Don’t play dominance games with me, not-a-witch.” Lara sneered as she looked away.

Beau snorted, then stifled the laugh.

Lara pivoted, then walked stiff-backed to the front door.

“So, suddenly you believe? Believe that you can see … something?” Beau asked. His tone was hushed.

“No,” I said. “But you guys do. I was just always good at poker.”

“Yeah, I imagine you are.”

We followed Lara through the door and all conversation ceased.

I’d never seen a house like this before. It was all wood and glass and stone tile. The entranceway opened up around us, with hallways branching off in opposite directions from where we stood, leading to what I assumed were a crazy number of bedrooms and bathrooms. A massive kitchen with a huge granite island stood to the left. A dining room with a wooden trestle table that was easily ten feet long took up the middle. The living room sprawled to the right, ending in a massive stone fireplace that occupied the entirety of the far wall. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the river and city below, where thousands of cars crawled over the bridges and the highway.

Two steps into the house, and I already felt like a grubby orphan. I never, ever wanted to feel this way.

“I don’t want to be here,” I said. My voice rang through the open space before me. I was surprised my words didn’t echo back.

“I know,” Beau answered. I could hear that he understood exactly what I meant, even though I wasn’t all that articulate. His commiseration settled me for the moment, though.

Heels clicked on the wide-tiled granite floor, and I cranked my neck left to see another dark-haired woman crossing toward us. She was taller than Lara by a couple of inches — though that might have been due to the heels, which were so high I was surprised she could walk in them. She was dressed in a sleek business suit that seemed to drip with money, even though I knew nothing of such things. She even wore a choker of pearls underneath her cream silk collared blouse.

I scuffed my sneakered feet on the floor but stopped myself. I wasn’t ashamed of being poor. I had worked for every cent in my pocket. Every cent in my gas tank. By the looks of her manicure and her perfectly smooth cascade of hair, this woman didn’t even know the word ‘work.’

“These are the interlopers?” she asked Lara. Her tone dripped with contempt.

No hint of a smile or sneer appeared anywhere on Lara’s face now, as she stared resolutely at the woman’s right shoulder. “Applicants, maybe.”

Beau’s shoulders stiffened as if he wanted to protest something, but he didn’t speak or look up from the floor when the woman turned to him.

“Really?” she murmured. Then, with what sounded like deliberate clicks of her pointy heels, she slowly paced around us, all her attention on Beau. She was sizing him up, like he might be a cow or a pig at a fair. Or maybe like a potential owner would eye up a slave or a gladiator, like I’d seen in all those movies and TV shows about ancient Rome. Or maybe it was Greece?
 

She was looking like he was just muscle, cannon fodder … amusement.

I didn’t like that look at all.

Beau didn’t flinch, though his grip on my hand tightened momentarily.

The woman stopped behind us. Her gaze rested on our interlocked hands. She lifted her eyes and seemed surprised to find me turned to look at her over my shoulder. She frowned.

“The witch has no manners,” she said, directing this comment to Lara.

“No understanding of protocol, I think,” Lara answered. “She supposedly doesn’t understand what she is. And she might not be a witch.”

“Ha!” the woman snorted snottily. “She’s a witch. No other Adept would ever be so stupid in the presence of a greater predator. You’re just intimidated by the eyes, Lara.”

Lara twisted her lips as if stopping herself from speaking, maybe ready to deny being intimidated by me. Or rather, by my eyes. Funny, I’d forgotten to put on my tinted glasses. I couldn’t remember when I’d stopped wearing them.

“See witch?” the other woman asked. She bit down on the ‘ch’ in the word. “Lara and the cat here know their place. If I were you, I’d learn quickly.” She leaned toward me and her nostrils actually flared. “What smells like a witch must be a witch.”
 

It was comical enough that I almost laughed, except I didn’t like the way Lara was deferring to her. I didn’t like the fact that Beau hadn’t spoken yet.

Satisfied in her assessment, she completed her circle around us until she was standing face-to-face with Beau again.

“Audrey Rothchild, beta of the West Coast North American pack, daughter of Edith Rothchild, lady of the Assembly.”

“Do you know what that means?” I asked Beau.

“Just the beta part,” he answered me. Then he lifted his head to address Audrey’s right shoulder. “I’m Beaumont Jamison. This is Rochelle Saintpaul.”

“Your names mean nothing to me.”

“Yeah, we’re getting that a lot,” I said. “The sorcerer called me Hawthorne, if you like that better.”

Audrey pinned me with her dark-eyed gaze. It wasn’t a happy look. “Control your pet, cat,” she said to Beau.

“You misunderstand our relationship,” he answered.

Audrey bared her teeth at Beau. This wasn’t a smile. He dropped his gaze, hunched his shoulders, and then stepped his left leg firmly and deliberately in front of me.

Audrey’s nonsmile grew. She stepped back, kicked off her shoes, and spread her legs as far as her tailored skirt would allow. She was four inches shorter without the heels, and yet she had seemingly grown a hell of a lot more intimidating.

I pressed my hand to Beau’s shoulder, not that I had any chance of holding him back if they were going to fight. Audrey was barely half his size, though. What person would attack another under those circumstances?

“I think you’re missing the pertinent part of the girl’s declaration, my beta.” A male voice coated with steel called out from the far hall.

“What part?” Audrey snapped without looking behind her.

“The part …” — the man continued as he strolled farther into the entranceway — “… about the sorcerer.”

Audrey whipped her head around to look at the massive figure behind her.

A mountain of man stood in the tiled hall. He was barefoot, with his hands tucked into the front pockets of dark jeans and a blue T-shirt stretched across impossibly wide shoulders. He was just shy of six feet tall and appeared to be almost as wide. His sandy hair was short and untidy, his face chiseled out of pale granite.

I’d never been scared of anyone at first sight before. But this man scared me silly … scared me stupid … speechless … breathless.

I froze like some deer or rabbit seconds from impending death. Unable to run, unable to drop his gaze, and unable to breathe. He scared me even more than the sorcerer had. At least I’d known Blackwell — had lived with him in my head for going on six years. I didn’t know this man, though, which meant he might do anything, might be anything. And I wouldn’t be able to stop him.

The man stared back at me. He hadn’t even glanced at Beau.

Then he turned and set his inscrutable gaze on Audrey. The dark beauty withered under his look. “Missed that, did you?” he asked, his tone soft and deadly. “Perhaps you should be listening rather than staking your territory.”

All the hair on my arms and legs lifted, even underneath my clothing. It felt as if I’d just brushed against a live wire with a very low current.

I hadn’t noticed that Lara had bent her head sometime since the man entered, but I saw now as she turned it into an actual bow, putting one knee to the ground. Audrey did the same, though she kept her head upright.

Beau grunted. His shoulders dipped as if he’d just picked up something heavy. The man glanced at him for a moment, then his gaze shifted back to me.
 

He removed his hands from his pockets. Curling his toes on the floor as he walked, he stepped closer. Though still out of arm’s reach, he was near enough that I could distinguish his eye color as light brown. Topaz, actually.

Beau was trembling before me.

Audrey spoke from her kneeling position. “May I present Desmond Charles Llewelyn, Lord and Alpha of the West Coast North American pack, son of —”

Desmond halted her introduction midsentence with a flick of his fingers.

Beau trembling turned to shaking, still as if he was bearing some terrible weight I couldn’t see. A bead of sweat ran down his temple. I looked to Desmond. He was still staring at me.

“It’s easier if you don’t fight it, fledgling,” he said. His voice was soft, even, and deadly. “I won’t hurt the girl.”