Page 38

CHAPTER 38

WOLF

Redley’s black hair is down, falling in bouncy waves around her face and shoulders. She’s usually got it in a braid when she’s out, practical, utilitarian, my Muffin. Green eyes shine like the leaves behind her, and her too tight flannel and jeans are enough to make a stronger man than me weak, and fuck, am I weak for her.

The more important point might be that she’s got a shotgun over her shoulder, and it’s aimed straight at me. The light shines across the double-barrelled sawed-off, and I smile as I imagine the mess she would make of me. That kind of thing might bother normal people, but I’m not normal. I don’t want to die. I like living, but I’ve seen and delivered too much death to dare being afraid of it. She doesn’t shoot, though, and I keep staring, thinking about the ways we’ve fucked already and the things I’d still like to do to her.

How did she find out where I live? What else did she find and just how fucked am I?

“Wolf?” she asks, shock and confusion her primary expressions as her eyes run all over me.

Her inspection gives me tingles. She’s so pretty when she’s unnerved, making it clear she didn’t expect me to answer the door.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. What the hell are you doing here?” she demands, not lowering the gun.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that question?”

“Oh my God!” Something seems to click for her but not for me. I’m just as lost as I was before.

I can’t guess what she’s thinking in that pretty head of hers or why she’s here, but I suddenly remember why this is a very bad thing. She can’t be here, especially not after the conversation I just had with my father. He wants her dead, and if he finds her in his house? He’ll kill her. What the hell was she thinking coming here?

“Red, let’s talk later. I need you to leave, now ,” I grit.

I glance over my shoulder, making sure my father isn’t following down the hall to see who knocked. Hilda, however, sees us from her spot as she cleans. I shake my head severely at her, threatening and begging her to keep her mouth shut. She nods and leaves, and I silently hope she’s taking my side. Odds are good, given she goes to the other side of the house and not toward my father’s office.

“Please be quiet. I need you to leave,” I beg her. “You’re not safe here.”

Her eyes and nostrils flare, pupils dilating. God, she’s sexy as hell when she’s mad.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. You want me to be quiet so bad? I’ll scream. How’s that for goddamn quiet?”

She doesn’t, though she stares at me, giving me a chance to decide. That’s a convenient request, given I have no idea what she’s talking about this time or why she’s here right now. We’ve always met in the woods, and she’s never looked to find me outside of them. Her surprise at seeing me keeps me pretty confident she didn’t uncover my plans. What I don’t feel confident about, though, is her safety.

My father may not believe in ghost stories or monsters, but he is egotistical enough to believe he’s part of fate's divine play. If the woman he wants dead shows up on his door minutes after he calls for her head, he will believe that he was supposed to kill her. I’ll be forced to kill him or watch her die, and I can’t do either.

“Fine then, have it your way.”

She opens her mouth, and before a sound can pass her lips, I slap my hand over it, preventing her from speaking. My fingers dig into her cheeks, and I can’t help but savor how damn soft she is. Every time she’s beneath my fingers, I feel more and more alive. It's hard to believe there’s anything more exciting than killing, but here she is.

She grunts in surprise at the force, but it’s better than what he would do to her. I spin her, and she’s weightless as I pull her tight against my chest—warm, soft, perfection—but I can’t let anything happen to her, and something like fear slithers inside me.

“Shut up. He’ll hear you,” I growl in her ear, my lips swiping over the soft shell.

“Who?” she whispers beneath my hand.

“Keep your mouth shut, and I’ll tell you.” I squeeze tighter, eyes begging her to agree.

After a tense moment where I think I might fall into her green eyes, she nods. The arm around her back supports her as I sweep her legs out with the other and pull her tight. She and her gun against me is the best feeling, and I suppress the little flash of pleasure. A quick look over my shoulder confirms there’s no one in the hall, and had Hilda run to my father, he would already be out here. He’s never been patient. I’m not often afraid—hell, I am the scary thing in the woods—but not being able to protect my wife in my own home? That makes me uneasy.

The stairs raise all the hair on the back of my neck as we climb them. Not being able to cover my own back or check if I’m being followed is the most unnatural feeling. I need it to end before I snap and kill something just to prove I am the biggest, baddest thing she can find.

Despite how tense I am, I’m struck by the humor of her being the least dangerous thing in this house, even armed with a sawed-off—well, except for Hilda. If Redley tries to pull the trigger, she’s not just going to make a mess all over herself. My father will kill her, and then Hilda will have some nasty work on her hands.

The door to my wing stands open. It’s roughly a quarter of the house with all its own amenities—kitchen, dining room, living room. Because our family has been forced to keep a close eye on hers, multiple generations have lived together for over a century. My great-uncle lived here most of my life until about ten years ago. We barely saw him. We’re not close, and we’re not the type to share.

I drop Red on her feet the moment we’re inside so I can lock the door and the deadbolt. It would take a lot for my father to get in here now, so she’s relatively safe. Red looks around, her eyebrows pushed together in some form of judgment, her lips pursed like an annoyed kiss. I grab her hand and lead her down the hall. Her eyes stick to each room, gasping out loud when she sees my sun room with the glass ceiling, but there’s no chance I’ll let her lounge in there when my father could then see her from the grounds.

The door to my room stands open as well. It smells freshly cleaned and vacuumed, so I know Hilda was here not too long ago and that means she won’t be back too soon. I tuck us both inside before closing that door behind us too. She looks good in my room, slightly out of place, but that will change quickly once I dress her in my ill-gotten gains and stolen riches.

This lock snaps shut behind us too, and I breathe a little easier knowing she’s safe for now, but she’d be much safer not here. My father’s threats are still fresh in my mind. I’m nearly shaking, and I turn on her, waiting for an explanation. Sometimes I lose control while I’m killing, and things get particularly messy, but I enjoy that. When I do it around Red, I fear the consequences to her. This is too much, and my sanity separates from the killer beneath revealing some new aspect of my personality.

“Where is your truck?” I ask.

It wasn’t parked in the driveway, and I pray she didn’t do something stupid like leave it at the bottom.

“A mile or so up the road, hidden. I wanted the element of surprise.” I relax only an inch. “What the hell is going on, Wolf?” she asks.

“You’re tired of meeting me in the woods?” I say, with a sarcastic lilt to my tone. “Why don’t you tell me? Seeing as you're the one who just showed up at my door.”

She’s still hanging onto the gun, but she’s not pointing it at me. Given our history, that’s huge progress. She looks around the room a little more carefully this time, and I’d give a lot to know what she’s thinking right now.

“I expected you to be happier to see me, Wolf,” she snarks. “It’s almost like I’m inconveniencing you.”

Multiple lights illuminate the space, a small chandelier overhead and little electric sconces on the wall, a record player, the cassette player that always reminds me of that night with her when we were teens. Is she disgusted by all this wasted electricity when she’s so precious about using any of it herself?

My room is bigger than her entire cabin, and my bed is nearly as large as her whole room. I have every amenity you can think of. My same guilt from earlier grows until it’s painful. She’s not had any of the same, but she should have.

She finally looks back at me. “ You’re the one supplying power to the mountain,” she accuses. “What I don’t get is why ?”

Her words sink in, and all I can do is laugh. Of all the things I’ve done, that’s not on the list.