ROMANCE: Mason (Bad Boy Alpha Male Stepbrother Romance Boxset) (New Adult Contemporary Stepbrother Romance Collection) (201 page)

              “My parents live in Dallas.” 

              “Is your Grandmother alone in Arizona?” 

              It was Cara’s turn to have darkened eyes.  “She is now.” 

              Mark sensed that it was a touchy subject and decided to leave it alone for the time being. 

              “Do you have siblings?” 

              Mark shook his head, then nodded slowly.  “It’s complicated.” 

              Cara’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  “Complicated?  That’s usually a term used on Facebook for relationship status.” 

              Mark leaned back again and shrugged.  “Well, it is a complicated situation.  My siblings,” he said making the quotation mark signal in the air with his fingers, “are a handful, and I’m currently taking a break.”

              “Where are your parents?” 

              “Dead.”  He said it flatly.  His eyes never left hers.

              “I’m sorry.” 

              A strange sensation moved around Cara, as if the air was suddenly electrified but someone or something was trying to dull the sensation.  It was the feeling she had in the diner when she had first seen Mark, only this time it was like the feeling was on steroids.  Mark’s eyes lifted slowly and seemed to be following the progression of something behind her.  His body was completely still, his face unreadable.  Cara wanted to turn and see what he was seeing, yet couldn’t make herself do it. 

              Two men walked past the table, glancing at Mark before continuing on behind the waitress to be seated.  They were complete strangers, yet something about them was familiar.  The gait in their nearly perfect steps.  The way they held their bodies ridged but loose at the same time.  The predator quality.  Cara’s eyes fell back on Mark.  The two men were just like him. 

              Mark broke the spell with an easy grin.  “Let’s go see about our rooms.” 

              Cara blinked rapidly and nodded.  As they stood and walked toward the register, she dared a glance over her shoulder at the other two men.  They were both smirking, staring right at her. 

              “We were lucky to get two rooms side by side.”  Cara said lightly.  Her stomach clenched at the thought of it being adjoining rooms, but Mark had yet to mention that.

              “Yeah.” 

              Since the restaurant he seemed slightly on edge.  His eyes darted more, looking for something that, so far, had eluded Cara. 

              She unlocked her door and smiled at him.  “Sleep well.” 

              “You too.”  He hesitated before hefting his duffle on his shoulder and turning toward his own door. 

              Cara was impressed with her room.  It wasn’t elaborate or fancy, but it smelled clean, and the bedspread was a burnt gold color that matched the drapes.  A small table was against the far wall with two chairs, and the dresser had a television set perched in the center. 

              She made sure her door was locked, as well as the interior door that led into Mark’s room, before heading into the bathroom for a shower. 

              Better safe than sorry.  She thought as she also shut and locked the bathroom door. 

              Mark sat on the edge of his bed and waited.  He knew the visitors would sniff him out soon enough.  It was just a matter of time.  He was surprised they had found him so quickly.  Maybe the crappy little place he had just left was a better cover than he thought. 

              The hour stretched toward eleven.  He sat with his hands on his knees, willing the itch that was crawling up his spine to go away.  He hadn’t checked the calendar.  It was obvious he should have. 

              The knock was light.  Mark heaved a sigh and stood.  When he opened the door he didn’t greet the two men, he simply let the door hang ajar and went back to the bed.  This time he didn’t sit on the edge; he pushed his back against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him. 

              Gayle, the taller thinner one spoke first.  He always spoke first.  “Mark, you really need to keep in better contact.  Chasing you all over God’s creation is getting on my nerves.”  He pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the inside of his leather jacket and lit it with a match, ignoring the no smoking sign on the wall.  He blew out two streams of smoke from his mouth and nostrils, his light hazel eyes twinkling in amusement.  “No response?” 

              The stockier, and certainly in Mark’s opinion, uglier of the two smacked a fist into his open palm.  “Maybe he’ll talk to me.” 

              Mark laughed out loud.  “I see the two of you are still playing the parts of some cheesy B-rate gangster movie.” 

              The stocky man made a move toward him, but Gayle’s outstretched arm, and Mark’s growl stopped him. 

              “Now we are all friends here.  There’s no need for that.”  Gayle smiled. 

              “We aren’t friends, and you know it.”  Mark replied icily. 

              Gayle shook his head.  “Brothers then?” 

              Mark rolled his eyes. 

              Gayle turned his face to his companion.  “Richie, why don’t you run down to the vending machines and get us some drinks.” 

              Mark spluttered another laugh.  “Richie?  Now that is definitely a B-rated movie name.” 

              Richie was torn between obedience to Gayle and wanting to say or do something to Mark.  His nearly black eyes narrowed and he ran a hand over his shaven head. 

              Mark regarded him coolly.  “Why not use your real name?  Let’s see, you’ve had so many, John, right?  That’s your real name?”

              “Come on, Mark, leave it alone.”  Gayle said quietly. 

              Richie huffed once before leaving the room. 

              Gayle entered the bathroom and tossed his cigarette butt in the toilet.  He came back and grabbed one of the chairs beside the table and drug it beside the bed.  The casual manner by which he sat and crossed his legs irritated Mark. 

              “Why are you here, Gayle?”

              “You know why.  We’re not allowed on our own.  No lone wolves; pardon the pun.” 

              Mark hardened his eyes.  “That’s not a universal rule.  Just a rule for our…family.”  Mark spoke the last word with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

              Gayle seemed to not notice.  “The woman.  I suppose she has no idea?  I mean she hadn’t been with you prior to that little one horse town you were just in.”

              Mark hid his surprise.  So, they had known where he was.  “Why now, Gayle?  Why didn’t you talk to me while I was there?”

              “We were just keeping an eye on you for a bit.  The woman has complicated things.” 

              “They always do.”

              Gayle’s smile flashed quickly but showed little mirth.  “Yes, yes they do; especially if they aren’t meant for you.” 

              The door cracked open and Richie reappeared with two bottles of Coke.  He handed one to Gayle and opened the other for himself.  His ruthless smile was ugly.  Mark knew he was slighted on purpose, but what was a Coke?  Nothing to lose sleep over that’s for sure. 

              Gayle stood and stretched slightly.  “You’re not ready to be away from the pack, and you know it.  You put others at risk.  You risk our safety.”  He opened his Coke and took a long pull from the bottle.  The belch that followed was loud.  “Ditch the girl, and come home.” 

              Mark lifted his eyes slowly.  He didn’t like being told what to do.  Ever.  “And if I refuse?” 

              “You won’t, unless you want Donovan to come himself.”  Gayle stopped at the door and looked back at Mark.  “Good luck with the midnight hour.  We’ll be watching.” 

              Mark sat on the bed lightly tapping his head on the wall for several minutes.  The itch was almost unbearable.  His vision was altering and he could hear someone snoring nearby.  Swinging his legs off of the bed he winced and stood up.  All of his hair follicles felt like they were on fire.  He walked to the window and pushed the drapes open with both hands.  The full moon stared down at him.  He imagined it was mocking him.  His body shook slightly and there was a tremor in his jaw. 

              I can fight this!

              Mark stood still and practiced his breathing.  He allowed his mind to drift and form images of the Blue Ridge Mountains.  He imagined himself in a field of wildflowers, his human hands touching the petals and new green grass.  He imagined the sunlight on his face, warm and healing.  Mark’s body gave one last shudder before the itch and burning began to subside.  He opened his eyes slowly and stared up at the moon. 

              Not tonight.  Tonight I win. 

              Mark went to the door that separated himself from Cara.  He leaned his head against it, but didn’t hear a sound.  With a sigh of relief he went back to the window and closed the drapes.  He felt tired.  Fighting the urge took everything out of him.  The alternative just wasn’t a choice.  If he screwed up, he would have to go home, and home never had his heart, at least not his current home.  Plus, he wouldn’t have to tell Cara.  He liked Cara, and felt that she liked him too.  What would she think of him if he had to tell her he was a Werewolf? 

              The next morning Mark seemed agitated and was once again not very talkative.  They started out later than Cara wanted.  The sun was well up and she felt like, at 9a.m., her day was half wasted. 

              She glanced sidelong at Mark.  His dark hair was slightly rumpled and, although it was short, there was a slight curl around his forehead and ears.  He had an indeterminate age, and it was, frankly, driving Cara mad. 

              “So, tell me Mark, how old are you?” 

              He laughed lightly.  “Now wouldn’t you be offended had I asked the same question?” 

              Cara shook her head.  “No, I don’t buy into all of that stuff.  We are what we are, why hide it?  I’m twenty-four.” 

              Mark looked at her profile for a moment.  She did look young.  Twenty-four was a surprise.  “I’m twenty-eight.” 

              “You don’t look it, but you act older.” 

              “I guess I’m one of those old souls.”

              “Or a tormented one.”  She tried to laugh to cover up the mistake.  It was a thought that she hadn’t meant to voice. 

              He didn’t seem offended or amused.  His voice caused a tinge of sadness as he spoke.  “Yeah, I guess that’s about right.” 

              “What are your plans once you reach Arizona?”

              “Same ones I had when I hit north Texas.” 

              “Which is?”

              “I don’t have any plans.”

              Cara frowned.  “Are you going to look for a job, and a place to live?”

              Mark felt irritation rising through his chest and throat.  “What are your plans, Cara?” 

              She didn’t say anything for a moment.  Her eyes remained steady on the road ahead.  “My only plan is to see my Gram, and then find my sister.”  She said quietly. 

              “Your sister?  You don’t know where she is?”

              Cara shook her head, willing away the first sting of tears.  “Her last whereabouts was Gram’s house.  That was two months ago.” 

              Mark watched the change in her expression.  Her jaw line tightened and her eyes, even from profile, seemed to harden.  “Is she younger or older than you?”

              “Neither.  We’re twins.” 

              “Do you have any idea what happened to her?” 

              Cara hit the brakes and pulled the car onto the shoulder.  She unclicked her seatbelt, and jumped out of the car, leaving the driver’s side door open. 

              Mark watched her walk a short distance, avoiding the sage brush as she went.  She bent, placing her hands on her knees. 

              Mark unbuckled himself and walked around to the driver’s side, gently closing the door.  He stood by the car for moment unsure if approaching her was a wise choice. 

              Cara heard his soft footsteps and straightened her body.  The nausea was fading, but the sting of tears blurred her vision and made her eyes ache.  His footsteps stopped, and he remained behind her, waiting. 

              “I’m sorry.” 

              Mark watched her back, now straight and ridged.  He wanted to touch her; a soothing touch at the nape of her neck, arms enfolded around her waist, anything to make her feel better.  “What happened to her?” 

              Cara’s arms raised slightly then fell back to her sides.  It was a hopeless gesture that spoke volumes.  “She was raped three years ago.  It was scandalous for our mother, and our father just didn’t know what to say.  Tara began to believe it was her fault, and her fault alone.  The police weren’t very helpful.  They just saw a drunken college student who put herself in a bad situation.  They made her feel like she should have known better.”