When Angels Fall (16 page)

The feline shook his head, as if to clear the cobwebs. Peter had seen enough. He lifted to his feet, Eva still unconscious in his arms.

“
I
’
m going to get Eva home.
”
He looked to David.
“
Once you get Mark settled
, you and,
”
he pointed to the girl,
“
what is your name?
”

“
Becca.
”

“
You and Becca head over to Eva
’
s house. I want to talk to both of you
.
”

David nodded.
“
Yes, Alpha.
”

James stepped in front of him, fixated his gaze on Eva.
“
Perhaps it would better if I take Eva home.
”

Did the old man think he was going to hurt her? A growl echoed and Peter held Eva a little tighter in his arms. His.
“
She is
my
mate.
”

Nodding, James backed away.
“
I
’
ll see to the Pard, then.
”

“
You do that.
”

Melody Grayson, Mark
’
s mother, stepped forward. While everyone else had aged, she appeared to be untouched by time. Her blonde hair still hung around her shoulders in waves, and her blue, blue eyes still held warmth. Once upon a time, she
’
d been his surrogate mother.

“
Give me the girl and at least put your pants on before you go hiking through the forest,
”
she said.

He clenched his jaw, looked from Eva to the woman in front of him. She had a point, however reluctant he was to admit it. Stepping forward, he set Eva in Melody
’
s arms, her weight no more of a burden to
his
fellow shifter
than
to him. He dressed quickly, hadn
’
t even finished pulling on his sweater before he reached for Eva.

Melody met his eyes for a moment.
“
Don
’
t make me regret handing her over to you.
”

The boy in him swallowed at the motherly warning. The Alpha hissed, snatched his mate and stepped away.
“
Take care of your boy.
”

Peter turned his back
to the Pard and started the familiar, two-mile hike through the forest.
In his arms,
his angel
slept.
Images of the way he had treated her haunted him. He saw her thrust up in the bed, arms bound. He heard the sound of their wet flesh slapping together as he pounded into her as hard as he could. Her sweet blood still lingered on his tongue.

Fucking Christ, he was going straight to hell.

Chapter Nine

Pete
r carried Eva through the
dark house
. He didn
’
t bother with lights.
Beneath his feet, bleeding and raw from his shoeless two-mile hike, t
he
hardwood
floor
stung with every step. He welcomed the throb, using the pain as a
distraction
. He
cross
ed
through
the
large open-style
kitchen into the living room, past his father
’
s study
,
and
then
up the staircase.

His attempt to see without seeing failed.

Nothing was
like
he re
membered. Mission style furniture, wood, sleek and simple, replaced overstuffed couches and chairs.
The walls he
’
d dented
during
his adolescent rages were repaired, the damage hidden beneath a soothing gre
en paint
. Not one fist-sized hole remained. The evidence of his ongoing battle with his father erased.

In
the darkness,
silver frames glinted, catching his eye. P
hoto
s were everywhere. They hung on the walls, stood
sentry
along the gr
a
y stone mante
l
place, and lined mahogany bookshelves. He couldn
’
t look away. Each picture captured
Eva at different stages
of
her life.
She
’
d been an adorable child with big brown eyes and curly pigtails. During her teen years, her hair had changed numerous times, straight, short, dyed, all of which she pulled off with an air of sophistication that didn
’
t belong to a sixteen-year-old girl.

His throat caught when he found the more recent photographs, the dozen climbing the staircase. These ones depicted her true beauty. He paused, adjusted Eva in his arms and stared at one in particular.

The setting sun shone at Eva
’
s back and glistened off bare shoulders exposed in her white sundress. Her beaming smile and sparking eyes radiated a happiness he could almost reach out and touch. Behind her, soaring mountains, crystal
-
blue lakes and evergreen forests fought to be the center of attention. Nothing competed with Eva
’
s beauty. Nothing even came close.

He tore his gaze from the photo, kept moving. This was no longer his home and these certainly were not his family pictures. Nose to the air, he followed Eva
’
s scent until he found her bedroom. On either side of her open door, two additional rooms stood. One had been Peter
’
s, the other his father
’
s. Now, both doors were firmly shut, the finality of it a strange reflection on his life.

Inside her bedroom, he found himself once again stopping. He looked around, raised an eyebrow at the decadent four-poster bed positioned in the middle of the room. Carved into the posts, flowing angels wrapped upward, melting into the sheer, gossamer canopy. The woodwork matched a dresser, its top overflowing with more photos. Greg. The Pard. Eva and James in front of
Lost Isle
on a sunny day. There were no group photos. Nothing to indicate a life outside of Greg and James. Gently, he set Eva in
the
middle of her mattress. She slid from his arms, limp and yielding, much as she
’
d been after he
’
d fucked her within an inch of her life.

He tugged off her boots and socks, unbuttoned her jacket. Hesitating for only a moment, he stripped off the rest of her wet, bloody clothes. The only thing he left on, the only item not ruined, was her red lace panties.

Looking down at her, his heart sped. Even though blood stained her skin and dirt smudged her cheek, she was beautiful. Chilled air brought
g
oose bumps to her exposed skin, her body begging for his warmth. Full breasts beckoned, the ripe, berry
-
colored buds tight from the cold. Tearing his gaze away, he ran a hand down his face.

He spun toward her dresser,
and
his eyes locked onto a photo of her and Greg. Mistake. Arms wrapped around each other, Eva
’
s lips pressed against his father
’
s bearded face. They
’
d been a family. Something stabbed at his chest, deep, where he
’
d only go if forced, where his anger toward his father still lived.

Before he could analyze his reaction, he crossed the hall to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth. The least he could do was clean her up. From the bite on her neck, red painted her throat and smeared across her chest. Carefully, and as objectively as possible for a perverted asshole who
’
d in one day turned her life upside down, he washed the blood from her skin. When he was through, he pulled off his sweater. Doing his best not to grope her, he brought the fabric over her
head
, threaded her arms through the sleeves. Passed out cold, she never stirred, never uttered a word of protest or thanks.

He stepped back, shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and admired her. Even though her curls were tangled and his sweater covered her from neck to below her knees, she still managed to look sexy. She rolled onto her side with a soft moan. His heart beat faster. Damn, had she caught him staring? No. Eyes still closed, she brought her knees to her chest, curling in on herself, burrowing deep into his scent. A shiver trembled through her, left her quaking in the middle of the too-big bed.

He took two steps forward, pressed his knee to the mattress, ready to climb in and warm her. His cock hardened at the prospect of sliding behind her, of trailing his hand up her thigh and pulling her ass against his hardness. He stopped moving. What the fuck was he doing?

Go to her
, the leopard snarled, unhappy when Peter abruptly backed away.

He
’
d seen the look in Eva
’
s eyes. He knew how believable he
’
d been in the clearing. She hated him, just as he knew she would. He pulled a comforter from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her body. He lingered, smoothing the hair from her face. Although the swelling had gone down on her cheek, the bruise from this morning still colored her skin in sick greens and yellows.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers gently. She wouldn
’
t remember come morning. Her mouth parted on a soft sigh. Before he could pull away, she ran her hand up his back, settling her palm at his nape. He froze. The one-second hesitation cost him. She spread her fingers through his hair, cupped the back of his head. She uttered a sexy rasp of sound,
“
Peter,
”
and then flicked her tongue across his lip.

His stomach dipped, tightened, memory supplying the exact sensation of how her tongue felt doing the same thing to his cock. Drawn like a God damn suicidal moth to an electric zapper, he leaned into her. He cupped the marred side of her face and kissed her the way she deserved. Slow. Tender. Soft. When his heart raced out of control and his dick was hard as steel, he broke free.

“
Um,
”
she said sleepily, eyes still closed, mouth glistening.
“
I hate you.
”

A soft chuckle left him.
“
Yeah, well, I hate you too. Sleep.
”

“
O
kay
.
”
And there she went, back to dreamland where soft kisses and fluttering stomachs were fantasies.

With a shake of his head, he walked out of her bedroom. In the hall, his gaze darted to the door on the left and then the right. He probably shouldn
’
t. Did anyway. He went left, hand pausing on the brass knob he
’
d twisted a million times growing up. Hesitation warred with curiosity. Had his father boxed up all his crap? Or had he simply thrown it away? He turned the knob. Found it locked. His jaw tensed. Applying a bit more pressure, he forced the door forward, breaking the flimsy lock without much effort.

He stopped breathing, couldn
’
t process what his eyes saw. Didn
’
t even know if he wanted to.

His room was exactly the way he
’
d left it, right down to the silver boom box on the floor surrounded by cracked cassette tape cases. His desk still lived under the window. The only change was the layer of dust on his now
-
ancient computer with its massive monitor and floppy disk drive. Dull, battered hockey skates still hung from the closet doorknob. The twin-sized bed he
’
d slept in was still rumpled and half dressed to show the blue mattress beneath.

Then there were the walls.

Still painted light blue, and still ruined by the several holes ripping the drywall apart. Next to his bed, the large letters he
’
d written in dripping blood still read
“
I HATE YOU,
”
their color dulled to light brown by age.

It was as if his father had locked the door and forgotten.

“
You shouldn
’
t be in here,
”
Eva said from behind him.

He didn
’
t turn to look at her, couldn
’
t, not with the emotions rioting inside of him.
“
Get back in bed.
”

The single loose floorboard creaked at her approach.
“
Greg came in here almost every night.
”

His breath hitched, and he balled his fists as if somehow that would help get rid of what she
’
d just told him.
“
I said, get back in bed.
”

She spoke over him, ignoring his direct order.
“
He
’
d wait until I was asleep. But the floorboard creaks and it used to wake me up. I thought this was just another office, or storage space. We never talked about the closed rooms or the unmarked boxes in the attic. When I asked about them, he got angry with me. It was the only thing I did that ever made him mad.
”

She brushed past him, her scent curling into the room. Instead of following, he pressed his shoulder into the door jam
b
and watched her with avid eyes. She moved to his dresser, the first piece of furniture he
’
d ever made. With trembling hands, Eva picked up the lone picture frame sitting on the smooth, hard surface. He smelled her tears before he saw them. She turned to him, glistening tracks rolling over her cheeks.

He didn
’
t deserve her tears.

As if she
’
d read his mind, Eva swiped the moisture away and studied the picture she held.
“
You look just like her.
”

He shrugged, didn
’
t trust himself to speak.

“
He never told me about her either.
”
She fingered the photo, and he knew Eva traced the shiny dark strands of his mother
’
s ebony hair. How many times had he done the same thing growing up?

Swallowing, she looked up.
“
Is it true what you said in the truck, she was killed when you were five?
”

“
Yeah,
”
his voice cracked.

“
Your eyes are identical. I
’
d wondered why yours were green and everyone else
’
s so obviously blue. I thought it was a Pard thing, thought you weren
’
t one of them.
”

“
I
’
ve always been different from them, always been an outsider in the Pard. My mother shifted into a black panther. She hated the snow. Hated the sunless winters. Hated Alaska but loved my father.
”
Forgotten childhood memories rushed to the surface.

Eva stepped toward him, her knees buckling on the second step. He rushed forward, caught her around the waist before she fell. He tightened his hold, felt his anger rising to a pitch he couldn
’
t control.
“
I told you to go back to bed,
”
he growled.

He ripped the frame from her hand, threw it onto his bed and swept her into his arms. Despite his obvious anger, she wrapped her arms around his neck, clutching him close. She pressed her nose into his neck, an intimacy he was too raw not to accept. Hot tears soaked his skin, fought fire with fire until the only thing he felt was regret. He was such an asshole.