Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

R iver raced back to her studio. She'd stripped off her dress from the club, yanked on jeans and a T-shirt, and slung on her backpack before jumping on her motorcycle and tearing off into the night.

My Omega.

The words echoed in her head. No. No way. She wasn't someone else's; she was her own. She fought to keep the memories of being attacked out of her head. At least this time, the male hadn't bitten her without permission. If he had, she would have stabbed his ass like the last one.

As she sped down the streets, weaving in and out of lanes of traffic, she couldn't get him out of her head. His scent. His eyes. His touch. Even as her mind screamed for her to get away, her wolf cried for her to go back. And the way her body had responded… had been embarrassing.

But she couldn't- he was a Lycan. A terrorizing, narcissistic, shifter-shredding, overbearing, animalistic killing machine. She wasn't stupid. She may not have paid tons of attention to all the folklore of pack meetings, but she had listened to the stories of one thing: the Lycans.

The original race of werewolves was stronger, faster, and less human than any other shifter species. They ruled the shifters from their home in Montreal and rarely came to the States except for business. They were the boogeymen mothers warned their pups about.

"You better behave, or the Lycans will come for you."

Like some kind of nightmarish Santas who saw you when you slept and knew when you were naughty.

River hit the 78 and continued east. She may not know what she was doing, but she knew where she planned on going. She wouldn't be safe for long, but she didn't need long, just enough time to clear her head and figure a way out of the mess the Wolf Goddess had dunked her in. Again.

River stopped her bike outside the small, faded cornflower blue house with dirty white shutters. The lights remained off inside—not that she'd expected them to be on; no one had been there in at least a decade.

She walked her bike up the drive and parked it in the detached garage next to her mom's old bike, then she walked to the back door and opened it. The familiar fragrance of lemon and pine cleaner mixed in the stale air filled her with a dozen emotions: sadness, longing, loneliness, and comfort. She stood in the kitchen and shut her eyes, remembering her dad's voice, the aroma of his chocolate chip pancakes, and the glow of their old television as they'd watched cartoons together.

Her ribcage tightened, and she imagined what her father would think of her latest 'stunt' as her mother would call them.

She dropped her bag on the kitchen table before weaving through the never-changing decor. She walked down the hall to the first bedroom and dialed in the code to the padlock she left to keep people out. They may not lock their doors in her old pack, but that didn't mean she wanted people pillaging her personal space. Not that they would. Those who knew her mother knew better than to mess with her.

She removed the padlock and opened the door to the small but brightly colored room. Before she found her muse in sculpting, she'd started with drawing and painting. And when she'd tired of using paper, she'd moved on to the walls and her furniture.

"It's yours, do what you want with it," her mom had said.

So, she had.

River breathed a sigh and locked the padlock inside the door. She'd never done that before, but back in her childhood home, surrounded by nothing but her memories, the extra security would comfort her as she slept.

* * *

Ares strolled through the spacious workshop, touching various objects and inspecting the surfaces. He walked to a makeshift shower in the corner and lifted a discarded shirt from the floor. He held it to his nose and breathed it in. His wolf howled at her scent. The aroma of metal and oil mixed with pistachio and vanilla. His body sprang to life, and he had to adjust himself to keep his painful erection from bursting through his suit pants.

"Where is she?"

"I… I don't know, Y-Your Majesty," Zeke's mate stammered. "This… this is her place. Her only place. She doesn't have anywhere else."

He balled up the shirt and shoved it inside his coat. "Where's her apartment?"

"Upstairs." The female pointed.

Ares leapt the stairs and opened the door to the studio apartment. Her fragrance almost brought him to his knees as it saturated every surface.

The neat and orderly studio apartment utterly opposed the workspace below. It'd been furnished with brightly colored furniture and paintings, but somehow, it all went together.

He walked to the bed area and took in the plush faux fur blanket. His wolf growled as he imagined how many men had been with her in the bed. The thought that someone else may have touched her body made him want to rip the bed to pieces and burn it. He walked to a small wooden nightstand and picked up the book she had. A romance called Red the Were Hunter. He turned it over and noticed a stack of other shifter romance books on the floor. Promised at the Moon, Cursed by the Moon, a dozen or so more. He shook his head and placed the book back on the nightstand.

He opened the drawer, and his fangs descended into his mouth as he picked up the small battery-operated toy, which smelled like the most intimate parts of her. He ran his hand over the soft silicone and imagined her alone in bed, naked and-

"Majesty," Zeke said behind him.

Ares shoved the purple toy back into the drawer and slammed it shut. "What?'

"My mate says River's motorcycle is gone."

Ares clutched the edge of her bed, and his fingernails lengthened, puncturing the furry pink blanket and the mattress beneath.

His body shook as his wolf surfaced, and he howled into the air.

Where is she?

"Bring your mate up here," he ordered.

Zeke growled, and Ares looked at him.

"Please. I only want to ask her some questions."

"I won't leave her alone with you."

"I didn't ask you to."

Zeke looked like he might say something else. Instead, he walked out and returned a minute later with his sultry but terrified-looking mate locked in his grasp.

Ares fought to keep his voice calm and forced his best smile onto his face.

"What is your first name, Mrs. Redmane?"

"Bianca, Majesty."

Ares looked to Zeke. "May I call her by her first name?"

Zeke nodded once, but Ares didn't miss his tense posture nor the fact that he kept his arms wrapped protectively around her. The rules weren't clearly defined regarding his position over the mates of his men. His men became part of his pack, but technically, they'd never discussed whether their mates would be part of it. Except for Theo, none of the others had taken Lycans as mates.

"Bianca, where would River go if she wanted to get away?"

"I… I don't know, Majesty." Her eyes rounded fearfully.

"Where is her pack?"

Bianca's eyebrows scrunched together. "Mom and Dad relocated years ago to Andover. But she wouldn't go home."

"Why?"

"Because she and our mom don't… they aren't close. And… she has bad memories from Andover. She hasn't been back in four years."

"Where would she go?" he asked, trying to keep his voice passive.

Bianca shook her head.

"Tell Lachlan we are going to Andover."

Zeke nodded and turned with Bianca to leave, but Bianca turned back.

"Your Majesty, if I might. River has an art exhibit this week. She wouldn't miss it for anything."

"An exhibit?"

She nodded. "For her sculptures. It's at the gallery where she works."

Bianca opened her purse, pulled out a cream and gold envelope, and handed it to him.

Ares ran his fingers over the embossed type and checked his watch. Over thirty-six hours until the showing. He didn't think he'd be able to wait without his wolf ripping through him and everything standing between them.

"Thank you," he said. "Let's check Andover first."

Zeke and Bianca walked out.

Ares rubbed the invitation as he gazed over the floor of River's studio. His eyes landed on an intricate metal sculpture of a wolf mid-jump. Was that what River looked like in wolf form?

We will know soon enough; he promised his wolf.