Page 5 of Into the Dawn (The Devil’s Claw #3)

5

BEN

W hile I wait for Vanessa to fish her keys out of the bottom of her bag, which I’d tossed into the back of my truck when I bundled her into it, I scan the trees around us to keep myself from staring at her ass. My beast's senses stretch out, searching for any hint of movement or scent that shouldn't be there. He’s concerned about her, not me, and it irritates me how easily he’s slipped back into mate mode after what she did.

He’s a fucking traitor.

And a horny traitor at that, I think, adjusting my now tight trousers after too long spent in a confined space with the woman my body craves more than oxygen.

Reluctantly, as I stare out into the dense forest, I have to admit she's right. The place is dead. The usual bustle of clan life, cubs playing in yards, animals patrolling territory lines, and the constant background hum of family, it's all silent here. When I listen hard, I can hear the cars driving down Main Street, not too far away, but other than that, there doesn't seem to be much going on.

I can't hear any people out walking, there are no voices from patrons hanging around outside the diner, no opening or closing of doors. No animals marking territory or beasts out running patrols. The town is deserted, and the awareness I normally get of other shifters nearby, their energy thrumming through the air, is conspicuously absent.

My beast bristles at the wrongness of it all.

Everyone must be in the compound, still dealing with the aftermath of Jed's failed attempt on my cousin's life, and the subsequent police questions about what went on. They're keeping a low profile, and that suits me just fine. The less attention we draw before I get inside their clan’s secluded base, the better chance I have of getting John back.

As Vanessa climbs the narrow, rickety wooden stairs up to the front door, I try not to look at her. My beast surges forward, desperate to drink in the sight of our mate, but I force him down. Every time I give in to watching her, smelling her, touching her, a wave of crushing longing threatens to break my resolve.

It's like my body and my beast don't even remember the pain she caused us. They're only feeding me reminders of the good times, her scent when we ran together under the full moon, the way her beast used to playfully nip at ours during hunts, and how perfectly she once fit against me when we slept. My treacherous mind keeps reacting with interest to any little hint that she's not over me either.

We're mates, much as I’ve been trying to pretend we’re not.

That pull is always going to be there, for both of us. The mate bond may never have been fully completed, but it wasn't broken. That doesn't mean I should be dumb enough to give in to it though, or allow myself to be fooled into thinking she’s changed her mind.

John needs me focused, not lost in memories of what could have been.

Vanessa's fingers shake slightly, but she manages to slip the key into the lock and open it.

My beast is eager to hold our mate, to soothe her nerves and tell her everything is going to be okay. I clench my fists, fighting back the instinct because that's not my job anymore, and it would be a lie. The rejection of our bond may have nearly killed me, but her choice was clear.

I know that, more than likely, this would end in disaster. Just like last time.

As we step inside, and Vanessa slides the deadbolt into place, I choose not to comment on the fact that she has to lock her door in a town where her family is supposed to be shifter royalty. In a proper clan, she should feel safe and protected. There should be no reason for an alpha's daughter to fear someone coming through her door. She's not treated the same as the rest of them, though, and never was, but I still can't afford to start feeling sorry for her now.

My beast may see her as someone we should be looking out for, but I remember her choice. She made her bed, so now she can lie in it. We're here for John, nothing else.

"You're right, this isn't going to work," I mumble, staring hard at that bolt as it unlocks something within my brain.

Focus on John. That's what matters.

Vanessa turns to look at me, puzzled, as she kicks off her shoes and hangs her purse up on the lone hook behind the door. Her scent fills the small space, achingly familiar. "I know why I think that, but what makes you say it now?"

Jed might be an arrogant prick, but he's not going to believe Vanessa is suddenly on his side when they hated each other growing up. And he's sure as hell never going to buy that she's willing to deliver me, the boy she was practically shunned for speaking to, into his open arms.

It's too easy. Suspiciously so.

"You'll have to ask him for something," I blurt out. “I’m your bargaining chip, not a gift.”

Vanessa pulls the tie from her long hair, and I swallow hard as her blonde waves tumble down around her shoulders. Her scent intensifies, sweet and alluring, bringing back memories of nights spent relaxing in each other’s arms, of quiet moments when the world faded away and it was easy to imagine how it would be, just the two of us, someplace else.

My beast strains against his chains, desperate to bury his nose in those soft strands and relive those memories.

Shoving my hands deep into my pockets, I force my gaze away from her hair and to her honey brown eyes.

That’s not much better, because damn it if she isn't just as beautiful as she always was. And the power of my desire for her, a craving I thought was long dead, killed by her callous behaviour, stuns me.

But then, John's face flashes in my mind. He needs me. I can't get distracted by what used to be. Or who she used to be.

Snapping out of my trance when Vanessa tilts her head to the side, narrowing her eyes, and continues to wait expectantly for an answer, I step back. I didn’t realise how close I'd snuck while under her spell.

My beast protests the distance, but I hold firm, planting my feet to the floor, determined not to move.

Clearing my throat, I attempt to regain my composure. "You'll have to demand something in exchange for handing me over," I repeat.

When she stares blankly at me, I elaborate.

"Jed's not going to believe you're handing me over for nothing, but he will believe that you're doing it as part of some scheme you're working. And angle. Because that’s what he would do."

Maybe this idea is too much of a stretch because Vanessa doesn't have a devious bone in her body. Although, she fooled me once, so maybe I don't know her as well as I think I do.

"What do you want, Vanessa? Is there something you've been asking for, anything that your father won't agree to, something that Jed really loves that would kill him to part with?"

Vanessa's cheeks pink, and she shakes her head immediately. Too quickly. She hasn't even thought about it. But her scent changes subtly, anxiety and something else threading through it. There is something she wants, and badly.

"If it's too good to be true, it probably is. He'll recognize you dropping me into his hands for the Trojan horse that it is. There has to be something."

Vanessa's brows pinch together as she considers it, coughing nervously. She backs away and turns, busying herself with tidying up, walking around the small living area, turning on lights, and pulling curtains. Her nervous energy sets my beast on edge.

“Let me think…” she mutters, trying desperately to come up with something other than whatever it was that popped into her head.

She's stalling.

I fold my arms over my chest as I stand there and watch her.

She tucks her hair behind her ears and studiously avoids looking at me. She's hiding something, and it's annoying me. This was her plan, and it's my ass on the line. More importantly, it's John's life at stake.

"Vanessa?"

She ignores me, and I blink slowly, trying to calm my rising temper as I take in her small home. It's cold, and not well insulated, but I can tell Vanessa has poured her love into this place. My beast catches hints of her scent worked deep into every surface. This is her den, her sanctuary.

There's a piece of her in every stick of thrifted furniture, every painting hung, every photo of her and her friends, all from her teenage years, that graces the walls. None more recent. As if her life stopped when she rejected our bond.

"It's not much, I'm sorry," she says, hands out and head low, looking slightly ashamed of the sparsely decorated space. "But it's home, and it's all that I've got. Dad doesn't let me go far…"

Which means he's kept her in town, with no job prospects and no friends. No clan connections despite being in the heart of their territory.

My beast growls at the wrongness of it.

"It's fine, Vanessa. It's going to be better than my accommodations tomorrow, anyway." My joke falls flat, and I wish I could shove the words back into my mouth. I grew up dirt poor, scrounging around for food when our parents would abandon us for days and weeks on end. If not for John, we'd have had nothing, so I'm the last person to judge someone for not being wealthy.

But this is new for Vanessa. Her father has money. He's obviously just not sharing it with her, making a point that she's not his favourite child, or even liked. Another thing I can't let myself care about.

Focus on John.

“A playground for the kids?” she suggests hesitantly and I frown.

“No. That’s not for you. You can do better than that.”

Vanessa continues to avoid contact as she bustles around, tidying up.

"They won't come here, so you'll have one night's peace while we figure this out."

She moves to the tiny kitchen, which is really just a row of cupboards against one wall, and flicks on the kettle, the silence being filled with the sound of doors opening, mugs being taken out and set on the counter, and the water boiling.

"There has to be something you want for yourself, Vanessa. Not for the community, for you," I say quietly, hoping to coax the information from her. I look around the room, hoping she'll open up if I'm not staring at her, but she scowls, insulted. As if I'm suggesting a new home should be top of her list.

"I didn't mean it like that." I step toward her, about to touch her arm, but freeze with my fingers hovering in the space between us. My beast strains toward her, but I pull back. We can't go down that road again.

"Tell me." I plead. "This could be the difference between us pulling this off, or both of us ending up in serious trouble."

Vanessa stops and leans one hip against the counter, fiddling with the lid of a faded tin canister that says sugar in bold yellow writing on the side.

She's shaking nervously, and I don't know why. We've known each other since we were kids. Whatever it is can't be that big of a deal. But her scent is shifting, becoming sweeter, more potent.

My beast recognizes it before I do. Arousal.

"Shit," she stammers, as her hand slips off the lid, and she shakes out her fingers. "Ben, this is hard."

She's not talking about the tin, but getting irritated, so I focus on that. I loom over her and pry it from her hands, popping the lid off with ease and then hand it back to her.

"What's so hard about it, Vanessa? Just spit it out. You’re talking to me here."

She glares at me, angry now, instead of nervous. It's good to see the spark in her eyes, because it's easier to fight with her than cope with the warm feelings that surface every time I relax and drop my walls. Easier than dealing with how her changing scent is affecting my beast.

I want her to be as angry as I am.

Not sad. Not afraid. Not miserable. I can't deal with that. Can't let myself care, not when John needs me focused.

Vanessa sucks in a deep breath as she spoons sugar into both mugs, remembering that I've got as bad a sweet tooth as her. She lifts the kettle from its stand, pouring the scalding water on top of the two tea bags, then sets it back and finally lets out a long exhale.

With her back to me, she grips the edge of the counter and hangs her head, gathering her courage. Her scent spikes with determination and something else, something that makes my beast pace restlessly.

"I want... " she pauses and laughs uncomfortably. "I want a baby."