Chapter Twenty–Seven

CHAPTER TWENTY–SEVEN

A s Mayhem took the female inside, Apex stayed out on the porch. He told himself that it was because he had to make sure that bastard Remis had really left. He told himself it was because he needed some fresh air. He told himself . . .

That it was not to look at the groundskeeping garage, and search that lineup of darkened windows or that slumbering truck for any sign of the wolven.

“So fucking stupid,” he muttered, his breath wafting over his shoulder.

Because what he was really searching for was answers: For what he could have done differently not just tonight in the kitchen, but all those nights back at that bedside, so long ago.

If Callum could only talk to him . . . maybe they’d work through some things together. After all, words could be bandages for injuries of the soul, and that was a two-way street. Spoken by, spoken to. And yes, he was jealous of fucking Blade.

It would have almost been easier if the two of them had just had meaningless sex. But noooo, that symphath had said some combination of syllables that had unlocked Callum a little.

Apex wanted to be the help. He wanted to be the savior.

“That fucking symphath hadn’t been at the bedside back in that prison—”

From out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of movement at the forest edge. And he knew what it was before he turned.

Who it was.

The great white-and-gray wolf was standing just inside the tree line, its fur camouflaging the position perfectly in all the snow.

So the predator had wanted to give its presence away.

As it four-pawed the way out from the pines, Apex was acutely aware that it could run faster than he could, and he glanced back at the big house’s entry. He could make it if the thing rushed at him.

Well . . .

As the cold wind blew around him and tightened the muscles of his legs, he was pretty sure he could make it.

While the wolf approached him, he became transfixed by the way its weight shifted, the power in that body hypnotic. The ice-blue eyes that had made a target out of him were right in front of the head, perched atop the long muzzle. They were a reminder that predators always had their visual center facing forward. Things like horses and cows and deer had eyes on the sides, so they could see what was coming.

Wolves and vampires were what was coming.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked. Like the wolf could speak English?

But maybe it knew voices . . . and maybe Callum was still in there.

He’d never gotten the chance to ask the male if he had any control over anything when the wolf was front and center. Were they two sides of the same coin . . . or two totally different entities who arm wrestled over the same set of cells?

Had Callum sent the wolf in against those coyotes? To protect Mahrci? Or had that been primal instinct to go after an easy meal?

Did Callum know the wolf was getting even closer . . . to Apex now?

Apex sank down onto his haunches and just stayed where he was. And that seemed like some kind of signal. The wolf came all the way forward, one paw after the other, not in the deep snow now, but on the drive that had been cleared.

By the other half of him, in that truck—

And then they were face to face, nose to nose.

Reaching out, he suspended a hand over the right flank—just as Callum had done to his face earlier. And he gave the animal plenty of time to move away, growl—snap at him. Bite his hand off.

When none of that happened, he stroked the springy, silky fur, passing his palm down the shoulder.

“Can you do me a favor?” he whispered.

The wolf snorted into the cold, but not in a way that seemed like a negative response.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He continued to pet the rangy, powerful body. “If he’s in there, tell Callum . . .”

He shifted over and put his other hand on the far side of the wolf’s chest. “Callum, if you’re in there, I want you to know that I’ve spent the last thirty years thinking of you every day. It’s like you had died and I’ve been mourning you—and to deal with the pain, I made up stories about us. I made . . . a whole life for you and me. In my mind.”

Staring into the nearly white eyes of the wolf, his voice cracked, but he was able to keep going. “See, I didn’t know you long enough to have the little things. The cereal box in the store, the one I knew you liked. The jacket that still smelled like you. The side of the bed that was yours, the key ring you took every time you left . . . the sound you made when you said my name as you came. We didn’t get any of that. So I created our life, and I mourned it all as if it had existed.”

He glanced away and cleared his throat, embarrassed and yet somehow glad he was revealing all this to the wolf. “You liked Wheaties, in my made-up world. So I used to . . . buy a box, and eat it for First Meal. And when I poured the milk, I’d cry. It was the breakfast of champions, which is why I chose it for you.” He took a deep breath. So he could keep going. “In my fantasy world, we fell in love in the summer immediately after the liberation. You came home with me to Caldwell and recovered through that spring, and then as the color of the leaves deepened into that darkest green of late July . . . we fell in love. We took walks down by the river at night, under the moon. So I would go there each August, and stroll by the lazy, hot Hudson . . . and mourn.”

He moved his hands up and ran them over the wolf’s head and down its neck. “In our pretend life, we watched The Office reruns when we were together . . . so I used to play them on my iPad, and pretend I could hear you laugh. And I would mourn.”

A cold wind blew around the pair of them, him and the wolf, and his eyes teared up. “In our created life, you died in winter. So the winters have always been the hardest on me. The mourning . . . has always been the loudest when it is cold outside. In the time of snow and ice, I have always missed you most.”

He threaded his fingers into the softness of the fur, and went so deep, the warmth of the flesh registered. Then he released his hands and thought of the way Callum had backed away, twice.

“If you’re in there, Callum, I want you to know we had a wonderful life.” He touched his temple. “In my mind, I did us . . . proud. And I’ve been loyal to your memory for thirty years.”

I think it’s you. But I just don’t know that I can get there.

As he heard the male’s voice in his head, for the first time in not just thirty years, but a hundred years, Apex looked into the future. And what he saw broke him.

He saw the male he loved trying so hard to force something that just didn’t exist and wasn’t meant to be. On his side, Apex had been living and mourning an epic, breathtaking, star-crossed love story. On Callum’s, the male had been frozen in a nightmare, anchored to a past so horrific, he could think of nothing less.

“That you’re even trying . . .” He had to wipe his eyes. “Is enough love for me. It’s the love I have always wanted to feel.”

As he choked up, he shuffled back. Rose to his full height. Rubbed his face on the inside of his jacket sleeve.

“And here’s the thing. I love you enough . . . to ask you to stop trying.”

He looked out to the garage, to that lineup of windows. And thought of them going dark, one by one, the night before.

“All I want is for the pain to stop for you. I don’t care if it goes on for me. Because some things cannot be separated, and . . .” Apex took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I came here and upset you, but maybe this was all meant to be. If it’s opened up a door for you, go through it, Callum. Welcome to the present, and go on into your future with my blessing. Leave me with the past . . . and go forward. You deserve it, after all these years.”

This was the trial run , he thought. Say this shit to the wolf, then speak it to the male.

“I’ll be here for tonight and through the day tomorrow. Our time ends after this. I won’t . . .” Now he lost the ability to speak, his throat closing to the point where he couldn’t draw breath. “I won’t come back. I won’t try to find you. I’ll leave us where we’ve always been—in the past. And pray that you will go on without me . . . and find some happiness with . . . someone else.”

Bending down, he touched the wolf’s face, and saw the male’s at the same time, the two together, even though that wasn’t possible.

And yet it was.

Apex smiled sadly, deciding he’d been stupid to think his heart couldn’t possibly be broken any further.

Turned out being left behind was another shade of suffering.

“All you and I have ever had was a what-if,” he said roughly. “But it’s been the what-if of my lifetime.”

He laughed a little. “And come on, that’s more than some people get, you know? It’s certainly more than I expected—and even if it’s mostly pain, the suffering’s been the way I’ve loved you.”

Abruptly, the wolf moved closer, and then that majestic head rested on Apex’s upper leg.

The weeping hit him hard, his tears flowing onto the white fur, as the cold wind swirled around and he didn’t feel the subzero temperature at all.

There was a relief, in finally saying his piece.

And at least the wolf seemed sympathetic.

Back in the kitchen at the rear of the big house, Mahrci was sitting on a stool at the stainless steel counter. In front of her was a beer, an open bag of potato chips . . . and a male who was making mince out of a yellow onion.

She hadn’t had more than a sip of the Sam Adams, but the chips hit the spot.

The male was—

“You’re not very good at that,” she said as she eyed the uneven chunks with a smile.

Hemmy laughed and glanced across the cutting board. “I know, right? I suck. But here’s the thing, the stuff isn’t going to look any better once our stomachs are done with it, and it’s going to taste the same.”

“Excellent point.”

He indicated her bottle with his knife. “You don’t like the ale? We can get another kind. There’s a ton in that walk-in.”

“No, I’m good. Just going slowly.” She needed to keep a clear head. But she didn’t want him to know why. “What comes next?”

“We brown the meat.” He turned to the pan he’d put on the stove. “Which is a complicated process by which heat is added to meat and it turns brown.”

Mahrci laughed. “You are a chef, after all.”

“High level. Totally professional. Don’t let this onion mess fool you.”

As he poured a splash of olive oil into the pan, she blurted, “Remis is a half-breed.”

Mayhem stared over his shoulder. “That’s why he drove up then. I wondered.”

“He hates that his mother was human, and he never intended for me to find out. When we were together, he’d have excuses about wanting to drive that car, how it centered him, how it was his form of self-care.” She laughed without any humor. “One night, he cut himself while shaving, just before he came to see my father. When I greeted him, I kissed his cheek . . . and I smelled the fresh blood. I knew then.”

“So you never took his vein?”

“No. My father has always arranged for my feedings, and they were always witnessed. We were waiting until after the mating, Remis and I.”

“So your ex was going to make sure there was a ring on it before the secret came out.”

She nodded. “That’s what I suspect. By then, it would be too late. My father would never allow us to separate, and Remis would make sure that no one else knew to save himself the shame.” Mahrci picked at the label on her beer. Then she looked up, across the mangled onions. “The irony is that I don’t care. Most of us have some human blood in our families, even if some people make sure that those details are lost to time and pretend they never happened.”

“Does your sire know? About Remis?”

Mahrci shrugged. “I’m not sure. My father has a lot going on. And as long as it stayed between Remis and me, it wouldn’t bother him. Appearances are much more important—and you know, a lot of people prefer to drive their luxury vehicles.”

Hemmy took the cutting board to the stove and sluiced off the onion chunks into the pan. Instantly, a fragrance bloomed that made her mouth water.

“That smells amazing.”

The mulleted chef smiled over at her. “I told you. It’s going to be fine.”

As he stirred the mix, the soft sizzle and the hiss of the gas was white noise that relaxed her.

“I’m not proud of what I said to him.” She took a sip from the open neck. “That I threw his lineage in his face. But I wanted to hurt him—and I know that’s what cuts the deepest. It was wrong of me.”

“Well . . .” More with the stirring. “That just proves you’re a better person than I am. I’m very satisfied with my choices, particularly with the way I opened that basement door.”

She had to laugh again. Then she grew serious. “You know what I like about you?” she mused. “Everything is up front. And integrity is the most important thing in this world to me.”

With a gasp, he put his hand over his heart. “My middle name. How’d you guess?”

Shaking her head, she reached into the Lay’s bag. “So how’d you and Apex meet?”

“Oh, we’ve known each other for a lifetime.”

“Childhood friends?”

“Might as well be.” Hemmy motioned with the wooden spoon. “See, he doesn’t like me, but that’s like saying grizzly bears are antisocial. Duh. He doesn’t like anybody. On my side—in case you haven’t noticed—I kind of go with the flow. Which he finds absolutely annoying, but is one of the reasons he can stand to be in the same room with me.”

“Apex is a lone wolf, huh.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Hemmy peered into the pan. “I think this is ready for the beeeeef .”

He made a show out of getting the hamburger into the pan, and then when he stirred, he swung his butt, and hummed a ridiculous stripper tune.

Mahrci had to look away as her face turned red. “Really?”

“Put your back into it. Only way to cook—”

Out in the front of the house, the door opened and closed. As footfalls approached, she had a momentary shot of fear that Remis had come back with the reinforce-ments he’d threatened to hire.

“Hemmy,” she said softly.

“Mmm?” When she didn’t immediately reply, he glanced over at her again. “You okay?”

“I want you to be careful. About Remis.”

“I’m really not worried—”

She dropped her eyes. “You need to be. Please . . . after you leave here—be careful. I fear I’ve brought danger to your door.”

“You know something”—he tossed the hamburger and onion around—“there is great freedom in not accepting responsibility for things you’re not responsible for. Hey, that needs to go on a bumper sticker. T-shirt. Billboard—”

Apex came into the kitchen and seemed to stall out. As his eyes scanned the room . . . she thought back to him being in her father’s house. The male had always been a silent, looming presence, watching them all. In this, he was like the security cameras he was installing in this place, she decided, recording everything.

“You okay there, big guy?” Hemmy asked him.

“Yeah.”

No , she thought. And as she glanced back at Hemmy, he seemed worried, too.

“Beer’s in the fridge,” he said to Apex. “G’on then. Help yourself.”

“I don’t drink. You know that.”

After which Apex went over to the cooler, took out a Sam Adams, and popped the top. As he put the bottle to his lips, he took a deep breath. Then he drank. And drank. And drank . . .

Hemmy seemed shocked, the spoon-stirring and the butt-whirling stopping.

“Slow down, son,” he murmured, “and come up for a little air.”

When the bottle was empty, the male went over to the lower level of cupboards and started opening things.

“The trash is two over from there,” Mahrci said as she pointed to a section closer to the sink.

“Thank you.”

As he deep-six’d the bottle, Apex straightened and put his hands on his hips. “After dinner, we have to get cranking with the work. We’re leaving at nightfall tomorrow.”

Hemmy shrugged. “What’s the hurry—”

“Fifteen minutes after sundown and we’re out of here.” He nodded to the stove. “So be quick about that, and eat fast.”

As he left, there was a waft of something burning in the pan. But Hemmy stayed where he was, staring at the archway the other male had disappeared through.

“He is such a cheerful presence.” Hemmy turned back to the stove. “I mean, a real ray of sunshine wherever he goes— damn it .”

He took the pan off to the side and agitated the beef with his spoon.

“He’s right,” Mahrci said with resignation. “We all have to leave. As soon as possible.”