Page 12 of Bloodbane

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sowing Seeds of Suspicion

{ T H A Y N E }

After Ash’s comment, I almost roll my eyes at the back of the puffy, red parka swallowing up my visitor from view. Simmering atop the basal scent of human, the deputy smells of citrus mellowed with a sweet note of honey, the lingering scent of cheap vodka, and traces of old blood. The copper-tinged note aside, it’s a strangely pleasant combination, and I can’t resist pulling in another long, slow breath. But when a minute passes with Red Riding Hood oblivious to my presence, I fold my arms across my chest and take a step closer. As much as I’d prefer it to the task at hand, I can’t stand here sniffing strangers all day.

“Like the view?”

Jones jolts and stumbles backward, crashing into my chest. My hands curve over small arms buried under the puffy outer layer, but I release my steadying grip as the deputy twists awkwardly, turning to face me.

The wide eyes staring up at me are mesmerizing: one honey brown, one blue-green. I don’t know who has stumbled across my doorstep, but it’s definitely not Deputy Jones.

The woman’s gaze darts over me, taking in the red plaid button-up stretched tight across my chest and the dark jeans below, before returning to look up at my face.

“ Incredible ,” she breathes softly before wincing. “Oh, um, you know, the view. It’s amazing. All the… nature…”

My lips curve into a genuine smile before I can stop them. It’s short-lived, though, watching wisps of dark hair flutter across the woman’s face, dancing over the cuts and bruises marring her flushed skin. The source of the metallic scent is unlikely to be the reason for the visit; the wounds are fresh but well-tended. That only leaves…

“Lost or car trouble?”

“Ah, neither? I’ve come about the missing person’s report.”

Belatedly, I force my eyebrows back down. It’s too late to pretend I’m not shocked as hell, all I can do is hope that I haven’t caused offense. I don’t think I have it in me to smooth ruffled feathers today.

“Sorry, I was expecting the sheriff.” I extend my hand. “But you’re Deputy…”

A small hand slips into my much larger one. After a single shake, it slides away, falling to the woman’s side where delicate fingers curl and uncurl, seemingly involuntarily.

“Ruby is fine, and please don’t take my attendance as a slight. Unfortunately, we’re sheriff-less at the moment, or they would have attended instead of me.”

The news plants a seed of dread in my gut. Surely Phil isn’t so disappointed in me that he wouldn’t reach out to tell me he’s hanging up the badge?

“Did Sheriff Adams finally retire?”

Ruby blanches. She shuffles on her feet and shoves her balled-up fists into her coat pockets. I have the distinct impression that the only thing keeping her gaze fixed on mine is sheer force of will.

“No, he, uh… he p-passed.” Ruby clears her throat. “A little over three months ago.”

I throw a hand out to clutch the door frame. My fingers splinter into the wood to stop myself from dropping to the floor.

Gone.

For three months.

How could I not have known? I should have known. I should have been there. I blink rapidly to keep my burning eyes from filling and spilling over. Phil cautioned me against isolating myself from the world, but I hadn’t listened. I never fucking listened. The news of his death reaching me now, like this, feels like a morbid “ I told you so ” from beyond the grave. One last lesson.

“Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

Gentle pressure on my arm startles me back to the present. “Yeah… No, I’m fine. I just… we haven’t talked for a while. How did—actually, never mind.” I don’t want to know the hows or whys .

“Did you know him well?” The pressure on my arm crests into a consoling squeeze before disappearing.

Squaring my shoulders, I release the door frame. My single nod comes slow, heavy with memories.

Phil had saved me too many times to count: from my bullheaded stubbornness, my ignorance, from giving up on myself… and the pack. With his generous wisdom, quick smile, and seemingly unlimited patience, Phillip Adams had given me so much more than I could ever have hoped to repay. And now, I’ll never have the chance to try.

Grief has a stranglehold around my throat, turning my voice gruff. “He was the closest thing I had to a—” I can’t bring myself to say the word. Not when it’s damning the flood of emotion straining to spill free. Once I’m sure I won’t break, I try again. “Phil helped me out a lot when I moved out here. So much more than he’ll ever know.”

I brace myself for the string of five words I’ve grown to detest—I’m sorry for your loss—but they don’t come. Ruby simply stares up at me with sympathetic eyes and a small, sad smile. Burying the grief churns more guilt in my gut, but there will be time to deal with my regrets and failings later. I have more pressing concerns at the moment.

I gesture Ruby inside with a sweep of my hand. “Please, come in out of the storm. You must be freezing.”

Once Ruby’s over the threshold, I pull the door closed and follow her as she strides past the kitchen to the family room. She takes in every inch of the sprawling farmhouse within view on the way. The swiveling red hood looses a trail of snow onto the floor like wet breadcrumbs with each step.

“I’ve lived in Willowbank for years, but this is the first time I’ve ever been out here. It’s nothing at all like I’ve imagined.”

“You’ve heard the rumors?”

I motion to the couch. Ruby folds herself down to perch on the edge before I sink onto a soft cushion beside her.

“That this is some kind of cult?” Ruby smiles sheepishly as she peels back her hood, shedding the last dusting of snow onto her raven hair. “Yeah. The whole mysterious isolation deal isn’t doing much to put the rumor mill out of business.”

Ruby’s embarrassment is obvious. And endearing as hell. A ghost of a smile passes across my lips. I’ve put a lot of effort into spreading those very rumors: sowing seeds of suspicion and watching them grow. It’s easiest to deal with humans when you don’t have to actually deal with them.

“People fear what they don’t understand and avoid what they fear. Their ignorance is my bliss.”

“Hmm.” There’s a knowing gleam in Ruby’s eye. “I suppose rumors are less work than keeping guard dogs, and much cheaper to feed. Still, I find it hard to believe that the gossip never mentioned the hulking lumberjack cult leader. But maybe that would negate the fear and arouse interest instead of suspicion.”

The laughter rumbling from my throat feels good. Foreign, but good. “Hulking lumberjack, huh?”

“Umm…” The pink of Ruby’s cheeks deepens into a pretty red. “Just, you know, the beard and the red plaid is kind of, well, ah…” She coughs as if needing a physical disruption to break the words tumbling from her lips. “Sorry, that wasn’t professional at all, was it? I apologize. I’ve been a bit out of sorts lately,” she offers, gesturing to the stitches decorating her temple. “Not at all myself.”

“Head injuries tend to have that effect.”

“Not great for memory, either. I can’t believe I forgot to ask your name.”

“That one’s on me. It’s Thayne. Thayne Smith.”

“Thayne?” Ruby’s lips dance mischievously. “I was completely wrong. That’s the least lumberjackish name I’ve ever heard. I had you pegged for a Hunter or a Jackson.”

“Wrong state,” I reply with another low laugh. At Ruby’s quizzical look, I clarify. “I was given the name of the city I was born in.” Or found in, at least.

Dark brows pull together. “Thayne… Thayne… Ah, Wyoming, right? I guess you should count yourself lucky. You could have been saddled with Casper,” Ruby teases.

Considering my parents ghosted me the day I was born, the name would have been oddly fitting. I shove the thought away. “You certainly know your geography. Travel a lot?”

Ruby’s smile wavers. “I used to dream about getting away from where I grew up a lot. Like most kids,” she adds quickly. “I guess I had a bit of a thing for maps. You?”

“I’ve traveled through most of the lower forty-eight a few times, but there’s something about Alaska, about Willowbank that feels like home. I’ve only been here for a few years, but I can’t see myself ever leaving.”

“I know what you mean,” Ruby agrees, fidgeting with the zipper of her parka. “And everyone else living here,” she mock-whispers conspiratorially. “They’re not really cult members?”

The comment earns another chuckle, and I find myself marveling at the charming ease with which Ruby guides me from my dark thoughts. “Afraid not. Though sometimes, just between you and me, I think it would be much more harmonious if they were. We’re all…” I hesitate, searching for a way to explain. “Everyone here is bound by blood. We’re an extended family. You can probably imagine all the squabbles that come with that.”

“It’s gotta be nice, though, to know someone has your back.” Ruby’s words are tinged with an odd sadness before she brightens. “For what it’s worth, you should know that I’m picturing you all out here like a bunch of cousins in a frozen, woodsy Care-A-Lot.”

I’ve long since given up trying to fight my smiles at this point, simply enjoying the intelligence and sharp wit glowing within the woman sitting next to me—the very alluring woman sitting next to me. The thrill of attraction that courses through me is swift and intense. And entirely impossible.

“Just a little less fuzzy and rainbow-colored?”

“Be still, my heart. A man who knows his eighties cartoons! I’m impressed.” Ruby’s grin is dazzling. “You may be a little lacking in the rainbow department, but I think you qualify for the fuzzy one.” Ruby’s gaze drifts over my beard and trails down my neck, where tanned skin disappears behind a dark scarf—and then travels lower still.

My gaze narrows on the flash of pink swiping over Ruby’s lower lip. I’m mostly sure it’s not intended to be overtly sexual, but heat flashes low in my belly nonetheless. I run my hands over my thighs, needing to busy them, to stop from reaching up to glide a thumb across that plump, shiny lip. When Ruby crushes the lip in question between her teeth, I startle and rise to my feet abruptly. I take a stiff step backward.

“I’ll grab those photos you wanted.”

My legs are leaden, like I’m walking underwater, pushing against the pull tugging me back to the couch. By the time I reach the kitchen table, my heart is pounding. I plant my hands on the solid surface, splaying my fingers wide, trying to ground myself. My head is spinning and threatening to take the room with it.

It’s been an age since I’ve reacted so viscerally to someone that I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like. When I woke this morning, I didn’t expect a pretty face and some clever banter to have me ready to mount a seductive human in the family room.

Images of sinking into Ruby—nipping at her neck, marking her, making her moan and shudder and beg—burst bright in my mind. I catch my cheek between my teeth harshly, but the metallic rush over my tongue does nothing to dampen my arousal: my touch-starved body’s reaction to desires denied for too long refusing to be tamed.

Maybe in another life, I could lean into the spark flickering between us, fan the flames, and let nature take its course. But this isn’t another life, and our natures are destined to never intertwine. Though witty and smart and sexy as hell, the woman sitting on my couch can never be mine. Not even for a night.

I drop my head low. My gaze falls to the photographs I’d placed on the table earlier. Two faces smile up at me, frozen in time. Two faces I’ll never see again. The realization resets my perspective. There are more important things than my love life to grieve today.

Taking the pictures, I set my shoulders and return to Ruby. I lower myself on the couch, careful to keep a safe cushion of distance.

I needn’t have bothered. The shift in the energy is undeniable. Sitting ramrod straight with a serious expression, Ruby reaches out to take the photos without looking at me.

“The top one is Gage Carter. The other is Rob Hudson.”

Ruby’s hands tremble slightly as she lifts the images.

“They’re family?”

“Yes… My cousins.”

“And they’re the only ones missing?”

“Yes.”

Ruby’s eyes finally drag up to mine.

“I’m very sorry, but your cousins aren’t missing. We found them. They’re dea-uh-deceased.”

Despite expecting it, the confirmation twists my gut. I’d planned to feign shock, but the thought of being purposefully deceitful to Ruby now turns my stomach. I settle for honest, quiet curiosity instead.

“How did they die?”

“Doctor Murphy hasn’t finalized the autopsies, but their deaths have been ruled a homicide.”

“Were they—” I barely stop myself from asking if they were bled out. “Do you have any suspects?”

Ruby hesitates before answering. “We’re still working to put together the series of events that led to their deaths. They were found at the lake yesterday. Do you know what they would have been doing out there?”

“They’d head out there to blow off steam sometimes. Fool around, have a few drinks,” I echo Arlo’s explanation. The words taste bitter on my tongue. “But I don’t know the exact reason they were out there yesterday.”

“Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt them?”

I shake my head slowly, trying to fight back my growing frustration. I can’t exactly admit they may have died as a result of a supernatural blood feud. Telling a human she’s investigating the murder of two lycans at the hand of a vampire is a one-way ticket to a straitjacket.

“Their deaths were very…” Ruby grimaces. “I mean, it seemed very personal. You mentioned family disputes…”

“Just the usual family squabbles. Snapping at each other over petty disagreements, clashing personalities, that kind of thing. Nothing worth killing over.”

“I don’t suppose you’d know if they were involved in any kind of hunting activities?” Ruby’s fingers start tapping on her thigh in a very distracting way. “Specifically involving wolves?”

My gaze snaps back to Ruby’s face. “Wolves?” I wrestle to keep my breathing even.

“There were wolves sighted in the area right before the murders. I’m just trying to ascertain if the two are linked somehow. Poaching is—”

“ No ,” I cut in, voice firm. “They’re not hunters, but even if they were, they’d never hurt a wolf.” At Ruby’s raised brow, I force a would-be calm shrug. “They’re kind of regarded as a sacred animal for our family.”

Arlo’s scent reaches me before the sound of footfalls hurrying up wooden steps, but I’m unprepared for the wave of secondhand aggression that hits me when the beta appears in the doorway. The sheer force of the emotion triggers a link, and I gasp as Arlo’s fury echoes through the intangible connection like vibrations on a spiderweb, throbbing along gossamer strings, feeding into my mind. I surge to my feet and take a step toward the door, angling my body between Arlo and the couch. The reason for the hatred flowing so openly from my kin is lost to me, but its target is clear.

Ruby.