Page 114 of The Wolves of Forest Grove

A tall king sized bed dominated the heart of the space. It squatted, pushed up against the far wall, two tall open windows on either side served to illuminate the space, casting the moon’s glow over matching night tables near each of the extra-long pillows.

The blankets were rumpled and smelled of the deeds that’d been done beneath them. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that Sam’s wasn’t the only scent clogging my nostrils. Faintly, as though someone had gone to painstaking lengths to remove it, I could also smell Charity.

If I weren’t a hundred percent sure they’d been screwing, I was now.

I alternated between feeling sorry for Charity and relieved that she wouldn’t ever share this bed with Ryland again.

A mirrored closet coaxed a short chirp from my lips, my own reflection startling me enough that a wave of icy cold stole over every inch of my flesh.

In dark jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt, I didn’t look myself.

But the glow of my light gray eyes within the shadow of the hood were unmistakable. Wide and startled.

Get it together.

I went to the closet first, if only to roll my reflection away behind a non-reflective panel.

A suitcase of women’s clothes lay half spilled over the floor, clearly rummaged through in a rush.

Sam’s. Above, in neat rows, Ryland’s clothing hung from all black hangers.

His jeans were tucked into a shelving unit along one side.

Several large-buckled belts hung on hooks next to them.

I felt around on the shelf above where the clothing hung, but my hand came away only coated in a layer of dust and sticky cobwebs. The other side was much the same. More clothes. An overflowing laundry hamper.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Kneeling, I crawled over to the bed and lifted the corner of the blanket, careful not to touch too much of it. I huffed, finding a wooden board was beneath, sealing off the under part of the bed.

Inching the blanket away from one corner, I lifted the edge of the mattress, squinting to see into the cavity beneath.

Vacant, save for some lost coins and an old sock.

The nightstand was next, and I really wished I hadn’t seen what was inside of it. There was no way I was touching any of that to search more in depth.

I padded to the other side, easing out the drawer of the matching nightstand. Within, there was an extra phone charger, some deodorant, cologne, and a tattered copy of a Jack Reacher novel.

I reached my hand into the back of the drawer to feel for anything else when a bloodcurdling scream sliced through the tepid silence, cutting me right down to the bone.

Fuck.

Below, the screen door clattered shut, and Ryland’s voice called, “All right over there?”

An indiscernible shout echoed back, Layla telling him it was all right.

Another familiar voice bubbled with a dark laugh. “Hope I didn’t scare her,” Grey said. “I’m just passing through with my congratulations.”

Double fuck.

“Stay for a drink, I have a favor to ask.”

“Another one?”

“Possibly. Might be two.”

With shaking fingers, I lifted the drawer from the squeaky casters, pushing it back shut, praying that they would go to the office for their drink and leave quickly.

There was virtually no way I could creep back down the stairs and outside without one of them hearing me.

The crinkle of plastic sounded before I could get the drawer shut, and I paused, listening as I lifted the drawer back out and pushed it back in, making it rub against whatever was making the noise a second time.

I winced, hoping the sound was faint enough that they wouldn’t be able to hear.

The solemn click of the office door closing downstairs gave me the courage I needed to reach my hand back inside the drawer. There hadn’t been anything inside that would have crinkled like that. I was sure of it. So then what was making the sound?

I felt around again, biting my lower lip to a point near breaking the skin.

Come on.

Realizing the drawer only made the sound when I lifted it off the casters, I turned my palm upward, feeling the underside of the smooth top of the walnut nightstand. My fingers brushed over thick plastic, and I froze, feeling the rough fabric of Velcro straps holding whatever it was in place.

Lumpy shapes filled the bag. Two large ball-like forms and something small, like a thimble.

Breathless, I tugged gently on the Velcro strap, ignoring the light from my cell phone flashing like a strobe light in my pocket. The crinkle of it coming undone was so loud I gritted my teeth, not daring to so much as breathe.

But when the distant hum of Ryland and Grey’s conversation downstairs never faltered, I let the bag drop into my palm and slowly drew it out, careful not to disturb it and end up making even more noise.

The blue-hued moonlight shining in a column through the window above the nightstand caught silvery white fur, and I stilled, my stomach turning.

I flipped the bag in my fingers. It was no more than the size of a sandwich bag, but a heavy duty one—the kind we learned drug smugglers used to cover the scent of marijuana during transport.

Another bit of fur pressed against the thick plastic, this one the color of amber, threaded through with gold. I realized what they were with a stomach- churning squeal and dropped the bag as though burned by its contents.

A smear of old blood was matted on the amber fur, right where it was severed from the tail of a wolf.

Tails.

They were the tips of wolf tails.

And fuck if that white one didn’t look a lot like Jared’s.

…his parents.

I swallowed back bile, pressing the back of my hand to my mouth to keep it in, sidesheaving. My wolf raged within, awakening with a defensive snarl that came out through my human lips.

Downstairs, the office door creaked open. “What is it Grey?” Ryland asked.

The vampire didn’t answer right away, but I heard his long intake of breath. Was he…was he trying to scent me? “Is someone else in here?”

Not wasting another second, I scooped up the bag and gagged as I shoved it down the front of Sam’s sweater, beneath the neckline of my shirt, and jammed it between my breasts, shoving the drawer closed.

“Bring them here,” Ryland growled, and I did the only thing I could think to do, backing up three steps before sprinting toward the tall, narrow window above the nightstand.

I jumped onto the top of the stand and launched myself, knees lifted and elbows out through the screen, popping it out of place as I sailed through.

A breath hitched in my throat as my limbs flailed in midair, trying to position myself for the impact. I hit on the balls of my feet and rolled into standing, grateful my wolf seemed to know how to make that landing because I sure as hell didn’t.

I sprinted past the moon chamber and ducked into the trees, not stopping once I had the advantage of tree cover. I kept going, heart thumping, legs pumping.

Panicked, I tried to find a place I could tuck away what I’d found in Ryland’s bedside drawer so I could shift. Run faster. Get away.

I spied a crook in the base of a tree and skidded, trying to stop too quickly. I fell, sliding over loose dirt and leaves before clamoring back to my feet. I went absolutely still before I could reach for the evidence hidden in my cleavage. There, not more than ten paces from me, stood Grey.

The blue stone of his ring caught the moonlight, glinting almost as menacingly as his black eyes. He tilted his head to one side, a sneaking smirk pulling up one corner of his mouth. “Allie,” he said, as though we’d met out here by a happy surprise.

I glanced past him, trying to judge the distance back to camp.

Was it too far for anyone to hear me scream?

Oh god.

I should have run straight for the bonfire.

Stupid.

“Why aren’t you at the celebration?” Grey asked, his tone taunting.

“I—I was just—” I stammered, reaching for an excuse that would sound at least plausible, not sure there was a point in even giving one. He knew I was inside. The busted window screen was evidence enough that I’d jumped out, but did he know what I had?

Did I close that drawer or had I left it open?

Would Ryland check to see if his gruesome trophies were missing?

Grey’s dark eyes narrowed, and I glanced past him again, searching for Ryland. Surely, he would have followed? Surely, he would want to know what I was doing in his house, alone. In his room.

“Ryland won’t be joining us,” Grey said, bringing his hands forward to steeple his fingers, tapping them to his lips as he stepped forward. I stepped back in response, my wolf at the ready.

“But don’t fret, young one. Better it be me than him.”

What the hell did that mean?

A thought crossed my mind, and I gasped, blurting the words before I could stop myself. “You’re X. Aren’t you?”

Surprise widened his eyes for a millisecond before he grinned. “I knew you were trouble from the first time I saw you. I told Ryland as much, but he never listens to me.”

He stepped forward again, and a warning growl rose in my throat.

If I could help it, I wouldn’t shift. If I did, it would send all my clothes, and the evidence I found, scattering to the ground where he could snatch it up.

“You can’t best me, Allie. I’m over two hundred years old. If I wanted, I could have you willingly kneel before me. I could sweep that strange hair of yours away from your neck and drink my fill and you wouldn’t make so much as a sound.”

The reminder that he could compel me to do just that—to do anything he wanted—sent a fresh shock of fear pulsing through my veins. I shifted my gaze to his mouth, doing my best not to look him in the eye. That was how it worked, right?

“What do you want?” I demanded, curling my hands into fists.

“What do I want?” he asked, seemingly perplexed. “It isn’t about what I want, dear one. It’s about what must be done.”

So, this is it then?