Scar (3 page)

“No.” Fre felt the tickling in her gut. She liked to think of it as her early warning system for trouble.

“Excuse me?”

“I said no. I have an appointment with a cold glass of wine and a warm bed.”

“Then I guess you’ll be sitting here.” With her purse clutched in his fist, he sauntered away.

“Wait! What’s your name anyway?” Fre covered her face and yelled into her hands, then split her fingers to peek at him.

He cocked a brow at her. “My name is Rhys. I can promise you a hot meal and a very warm bed. All I ask is that you spend one night in Volkshire.”

“Volkshire?”

“It’s the little town I’m from.” He walked back to her window and held the wide mouth of her bag open.

“So I can’t have my own purse?” She narrowed her eyes and dipped her hand into its depths to secure her keys.

“Let’s call this insurance that you will follow me. I’ll return this when we get to the inn.” A corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile.

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Her purse tapped his leg as he walked away. Fre leaned out the window as she started the truck. “You know if you ask really nicely, I may let you have that bag. The color suits you.” The sound of his laugher sent a tingle along her nerves. When the black Jeep spun off pulling into traffic, she threw her vehicle in gear and followed it. An old saying her momma use to quote her floated through her mind. God protects children and fools. She bit the inside of her cheek and sincerely hoped that was true because at that moment she felt like a real sucker.

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Chapter Three

Rhys couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he sauntered to the car. It was a good thing members of one of Volkshire’s allied packs had detained her. He had no idea who the woman was. He’d learned from the deputy her name was Nefertiti Alexandria Niles, she was twenty-eight, and held an address in the city. His step faltered as he thought about her. She was what his father liked to call stacked. His smile turned into a chuckle. Had his dad, Colin, been with them he would have had to muzzle the old man.

The woman was taller than average with skin the color of toffee. Her straight, light brown hair hung in a ponytail secured at the nape of her neck. Not that he would admit it but he was taken aback when she looked up at him through bright green irises. And when he got a whiff of her, the smell of citrus with a touch of vanilla enveloped him. She was as attracted to him as he was to her. The scent of her arousal hit like a blow to the chest and had him regretting the removal of her handcuffs. For the briefest of moments he found it hard to breathe and had to momentarily walk away from her to catch his breath.

Instead he found himself fighting his nature not to keep her bound, flip her around, and mount her like the animal he harbored inside him.

Right then he decided to sate his desire and invite her home. She didn’t take Keen. He smelled no deception in her, just a genuine affection for a puppy. Given the way Keen was guarding her, it was mutual. His train of thought reminded him of his initial problems and current situation. A long, aggravated sigh escaped through his lips.

He swiped a hand down his face, wiping away the amused curve to his lips, and pulled the lever to the car door to open it. Rhys climbed into the back seat and opened his arms. With a quiet
thud
Keen hit his chest and wrapped thin arms around his neck. Rhys buried his nose in his son’s shaggy hair and inhaled, allowing the underlying sweet baby powder scent 15

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of his son calm him. He could also smell dirt and grass on his son, mingled with the smell of citrus and smoke, with the distinct aroma of clove. He filed the strange smell away to analyze later and tugged his son away from him.

Rhys lifted his son high to stare into eyes. Eyes that reminded him of Cherise, Keen’s mother, and hopefully the only attribute he’d received from that gene pool. He tapped down the anger and guilt that rose at the thought of her memory.

“Tell me what happened.” Rhys shifted his body and set his son down next to him.

“I was playing in the woods and I got so sleepy, Daddy. The sun felt good, and the moss was soft. Lori was playing hide-and-seek with me and I knew she would never find me. I guess I fell asleep.” Keen hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, Keen. Tell me what happened when you woke up.” He brushed the hair from his sons face.

“I woke up and I was moving. I wasn’t in the forest anymore, Daddy. I was in a car with a strange man and he kept trying to get me to shift. But I didn’t do it, Daddy. I did like you told me and stayed in my wolf.”

“You did good, Keen. Then what?” Rhys kept his voice soft.

“The man stopped. He locked me in and I scratched and chewed on the door but it wouldn’t open.” Keen started to cry. “I howled but the people that passed the car wouldn’t help. Not until that nice lady that smells like oranges came.” Keen’s voice took on a note of awe. “She didn’t leave me. She broke the window, and we snuck away. I tried to tell her that we needed to stop, lead her to town, but she thought I had to pee.

I didn’t want to change and tell her. Then you would be mad at me.” Tears welled up in Keen’s eyes.

Rhys lifted his son’s chin and smiled at him when Keen met his gaze.

“I’m not mad at you. You did exactly like I taught you. I’m proud of you.

Did the nice lady smoke cigarettes?”

“No, Daddy, the bad man did, but she sang and rubbed my belly.” 16

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Keen leaned in and whispered. “She can’t sing, Daddy, but I didn’t want her to feel bad so I howled with her.”

Rhys lifted his gaze to meet his brother’s in the rearview mirror and they burst out laughing. He pulled his son into his lap and held him close.

He stared at the highway through the windshield. There was something he was missing. Lori hadn’t told him they were playing, only that she’d went to check on him and he was gone. A nugget of mistrust developed in his mind. It had taken her a couple of hours to actually tell him Keen was missing. Her claim that she didn’t want to raise any false alarms wasn’t ringing true. He glanced down and realized Keen had fallen asleep. He eased the boy off his lap and settled him in the seat beside him.

“Want to fill me in as to why the hot woman that thought of Keen as her pet is following us?” Myka spoke up.

“I invited her home.” Rhys dropped his head back against the headrest while keeping his hand at Keen’s back.

“Was that wise?” Myka’s voice held a note of question in it.

“Do you want to challenge me to claim the position of Alpha of our pack? You can stop the Jeep right now and we can take care of it if you do.”

“What is wrong with you lately? You’re acting like a bitch in heat.

Colin would kill you if you hurt me. I am, after all, the favorite son. Hell, maybe inviting her to Volkshire wasn’t a bad idea. You need to get laid in the worst possible way.”

“Fuck you, Myka.” Rhys couldn’t keep the amusement out his voice.

“That, dear older brother, would never happen. You have a better chance with the pinup girl come to life that’s following us.” Myka twisted the steering wheel and took a sharp left onto an unpaved road.

“There is something about her I’d like to explore further.” Rhys closed his eyes.

“Uh-huh”

“Keen likes her. Did you see how he was trying to protect her?”

“Yes I did. It was kind of cute. He’s lucky all wolves and most shifters 17

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are scared of you in general,
Scar
.” Rhys eyes snapped open at the nickname.
Scar
. Cherise had given him that title when he fought her pack. Literally, one against many, but he’d survived the gauntlet. His battle-torn body had been a testament to his victory. He’d been a naive pup then and he’d been in love. He’d wanted her from the moment he’d seen the blonde wolf and would have her no matter the consequences. Honestly he’d thought he could love her enough for the both of them. Back then he didn’t understand the difference between love and mating, didn’t realize that their joining had to come first, the seal of his bite announcing to the world she was his. He’d gotten it backward and thought if there was love, the mating would come. Yet he never had the urge to mark her as his own. He’d fought every contender for Cherise right up to when her father offered the bounty of his daughter’s hand to any man that could beat him.

What no one had realized was that Rhys’s wolf reveled in combat, lived for the bloodbath he knew he would create, a genetic throwback to when a wolf had to fight for its very existence. Good wolves were lost in their quest for Cherise. He combed his hand through his hair, thinking back. After that last fight were he’d walked out of the melee battered and bloody and met her gaze, he’d never been able to erase the disgust he’d seen in her eyes. That day she called him Scar and never again called him by his given name.

Over the course of their marriage he learned love does not conquer all.

He also discovered what his father had been trying to tell him all along.

He’d just been too young and stupid to listen. He didn’t love her at all.

No, he just wanted to possess her. They were an ill-suited pairing. She might have been beautiful but her lineage was weak and the mating never came. He’d tied them together, and they were never meant to be. The only good thing to come out of their union was Keen and he was proving to be a Blaidd, not just in name.

The first time she’d tried to hurt their son, he should have sent her back to her pack. Pride is a bitch though, he thought they could work 18

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through their differences. In his ignorance, he’d made his bed, he’d lie in it. He could keep Keen close, hire a nanny. Hell, he even turned a blind eye to her affairs; by then he just didn’t care anymore. When he finally did catch her with one of his men, he had to make a point and damn near killed the man. In hindsight he should have called an end to their marriage then. If only he’d known then what he knew now.

He never thought she would try to kill their son and then herself. Pain blossomed in his chest as he remembered finding her hanging from the exposed beam in the foyer of their home. Fear churned like bile in his gut as he searched for his son. He’d never forget what he found that day. His two-year-old baby boy strapped into a car seat and tied down so Keen couldn’t wiggle out. The bitch had left her car running in the garage.

When he’d opened the door, and all the noxious fumes billowed out. He’d almost lost hope but Keen had survived. His lungs were a bit weak because of his mother’s actions but his son had survived. For that last act of vengeance he couldn’t forgive Cherise. Not now…not ever.

“Yeah, Myka, I am Scar and it would be foolish for anyone to forget it, even you.” Rhys ran his knuckles along his son’s cheek.

***

Fre followed the black Jeep through all the twists and turns it made.

When they passed the wooden town sign welcoming her to Volkshire, she could no longer deny the uneasy tingles rolling up and down her spine.

They drove down Main Street, at least that’s what the street sign said. It was like walking back in time. The buildings were well cared for but the classic architecture reminded her of the pictures she seen in history books from the fifties. She leaned forward to look out the windshield. The little town didn’t even have a streetlight. The vehicle before her took a sharp right between a pair of huge trees and her tires screeched as she went on two wheels to make a turn onto the hidden driveway and keep up. They were driving down a gravel-ridden path that opened up into clearing 19

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where there was a plantation house. She parked next the Jeep and leaned back in her seat. Pursing her lips, she briefly wondered what she’d gotten herself into.

This place wasn’t on any map she’d ever seen, and she’d been traveling this area for years. The inn, as her host had called it, was huge with four large pillars flanking the front door. Seasonal foliage and evergreens dotted the landscape surrounding the porch. The front doors alone had to be twelve feet tall a least. Fre hadn’t taken her hands of the steering wheel. Debating with herself about forgetting her bag and just driving off, she squeezed it tighter. The doors on the automobile next to her slammed, and she turned her head to see the intriguing man who had issued her the invitation. He wasn’t alone this time though. Next to him stood another man that could have been his twin if she cut his hair and removed the scar on his face.

She took her foot off the brake and her truck rocked when she slid it into park. She met his moss-colored gaze through the windshield and he raised her purse in his fist. Fre tapped her fingers on the leather-covered wheel. Her instincts were screaming at her to put the truck in reverse and get the hell out of there. The internal voice that had never steered her wrong was yelling, “Fuck the bag. You can buy a new one.” She swallowed and continued the argument in her head. Everything of value to her was in that hobo bag—wallet, license, bankcards. The other man shook his head and stalked away. Rhys ever so slowly lifted his lips in a smile and he shook her purse in challenge, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.