CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

There was no rational reason why four kids could so easily freak her out, but Frankie found herself fighting the desire to squirm in the armchair as they sat on the rug, staring at her. They weren’t snarling or anything, but their expressions were weirdly blank. It was a good thing that Trick was currently in a meeting with Trey and some other males from the pack, because he’d probably laugh his ass off at her discomfort—then she’d have to hurt him.

Trick’s tongue lapping at her pussy had certainly been a hell of a wake-up call. Just as she’d been on the verge of coming, he’d thrust his cock inside and fucked her hard and deep. He’d also been sure to leave a very visible brand on her neck. When she’d called him on it, he’d just smiled and said, “But it looks so pretty there.”

It hadn’t been long after their shower this morning that he’d received a call from Trey, summoning him home. Trick had persuaded her to come with him. Honestly, it hadn’t taken a lot of effort on his part. She’d liked her last visit with Iris, and she thought it would be good to see her again.

At the moment, though, Iris was enjoying a visit from some relatives who were part of the Bjorn Pack. Well, honorary relatives. Apparently Clara had been Iris’s best friend since childhood and they considered each other family.

Frankie wasn’t quite ready for a big reunion with others from her old pack, so she’d decided to wait in the living area with Lydia, Taryn, Jaime, and Makenna.

Her wolf was pushing her to track Trick down. It was odd. Now that he’d branded her, her wolf wanted to be around him more. As though the bite had linked them. Not mentally, but metaphorically. Like the wolf had half accepted his claim on her. Maybe. Probably. Frankie couldn’t really make sense of it.

Cuddling a sleeping Sienna, Makenna cleared her throat. “Kids, why don’t you pick a DVD to watch?” At that, they scrambled over to the large rack of DVDs.

Jaime eyed the bite on Frankie’s neck. “That’s quite a brand you have there. Nice and visible.”

“I was clear that his claiming mark better not be so damn obvious,” said Frankie, but she wasn’t holding her breath.

Lydia stilled. “Claiming mark?”

Frankie felt her brow furrow. “He hasn’t told you that we’re mates?”

“He didn’t need to,” said Taryn. “We know him well; we could see that he was incredibly protective and possessive of you. That kind of thing is unusual for Trick.” Her mouth twisted. “He said he’d hold off on telling you, though.”

“He didn’t tell me.” Frankie shrugged. “I guessed.”

Jaime’s brows lifted. “You guessed?”

“It wasn’t really that hard to figure it out,” said Frankie. “My body’s reaction, my wolf’s reaction, the way he settles my nerves, his possessiveness, how much more tactile he is with me than I’ve seen him be with you guys . . . It just made sense that we could be mates. He confirmed that I was right.”

Jaime looked at Taryn. “Don’t you just love the way she put the pieces together and just accepted it? She didn’t stew on it, didn’t worry on it, didn’t leap into a pit of denial. That’s just awesome.”

Taryn nodded in agreement. “I didn’t guess that Trey was my mate, because I’d believed that I lost mine when I was a kid.”

“I’ve had a crush on Dante for as long as I could remember,” began Jaime, “so my strong reaction to him didn’t seem weird or anything to overthink. I was used to it.”

Makenna spoke. “I knew Ryan was right when he said we were mates. I did, but I didn’t want to fully believe it in case I was wrong. The way you put it together reminds me a little of Ryan. He just added the facts, looked at it logically, and decided we were mates.”

Frankie didn’t believe it was logic that had helped her work it out. She had a creative mind and lived in a world full of possibilities, and that made her open to things.

“And you accept his claim on you?” Lydia asked.

“I’m not ready for the bond yet—Trick agrees with me on that—but I do accept that we’re mates,” said Frankie.

Lydia smiled, but then that smile faded as she asked, “Have you told the Newmans yet?”

“No.” And that was not a conversation that Frankie was looking forward to having. She didn’t have the slightest idea how she was going to break it to them that not only would she mate with a wolf, she would move to Phoenix Pack territory one day. They’d see it as abandonment, as her choosing a side, no matter what she said.

“Let’s face it, they’ll probably never accept Trick,” said Lydia. “But he won’t be the only one around here who has problems getting along with their mate’s family.”

“That’s true,” agreed Taryn. She flicked the kids—who were currently arguing over what DVD to watch—a quick glance before lowering her voice to add, “Trey would happily rip out my father’s throat.”

“And I’d eagerly beat the shit out of Dante’s brothers,” said Jaime, her voice just as low.

Makenna’s mouth flattened. “Ryan’s parents are total assholes—I let them know exactly what I thought of them.”

“And we’d all kick Greta’s ass if there wasn’t a risk that her brittle old bones would shatter,” said Taryn, at which the other females nodded firmly.

“Not that one!” shouted Kye, who was trying to snatch a DVD from Savannah. The little girl opened her mouth and screamed in his face. Kye howled at her.

Shaking with repressed laughter, Taryn clapped her hands to get their attention. “Kids, enough.” They hushed, shoulders slumping.

Stifling a smile, Frankie asked, “Don’t they spend their time with Riley?”

“She’s taking a shower, since Dexter got jam in her hair,” explained Makenna.

“Ah.” Frankie started to speak again, but then she noticed that all four kids were staring at her yet again. “Someone make them stop.”

“Have you chosen a DVD?” Taryn asked them. Like that, they turned back to the rack.

Hearing voices in the tunnels, Lydia spoke. “Seems like Iris is done talking with her visitors.”

Moments later, a plump, gray-haired woman walked in with three identical adult males. Spotting Lydia, the woman smiled. “There you are. We have to leave, I’m afraid.” As she caught sight of Frankie, her face lit up. “Oh, you must be Francesca. Iris has just been jabbering on about you.”

Lydia spoke. “Frankie, this is Clara—my godmother and honorary aunt. And these are her sons, Cruz, Eke, and Wendel. If you need to tell the triplets apart, just remember that Cruz is the one with an earring, Eke is the one with shoulder-length hair, and Wendel is the one with the scar on his forehead.”

Frankie forced a smile and said a quick greeting, hoping she was hiding that she was shockingly locked in an inner battle with her wolf. The moment the strangers walked in and the scent of rain, brine, and burned wood hit her nose, the animal had gone crazy. Snarled, growled, and swiped out with her claws. Her wolf wanted to surface and lunge. The scent had set her off—a scent that belonged to all three of them, since the triplets were identical.

Clara clasped her hands together. “You look so much like your mother it’s uncanny. Doesn’t she, boys?”

“It’s good that you’ve reconnected with the family,” said Eke.

Cruz nodded. “We’ve wanted that for a long time.”

“I have one of your sculptures in my cabin,” Wendel told her. “I bought it a few years back. Rosa.”

Eke looked at Wendel and tilted his head. “You mean the clay woman’s head? Her face is beautiful, but it’s rotting in places?”

“That’s the one,” said Wendel. His gaze returned to Frankie as he added, “The eyes—I don’t know how you did it, but whatever angle I stand at, I feel like its eyes are on me. Always feel like it’s looking right at me.”

“Oh, I’ve seen that piece,” said Clara. “I have to say, it scared me. I hope you’ll come for dinner sometime, Francesca. It would be lovely to get to know you.”

Frankie just smiled, thankful that Clara didn’t notice how strained the smile was. Wendel noticed, though. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t comment. Only once the four Bjorn wolves disappeared down the tunnel with Jaime as their escort did Frankie’s wolf settle down.

Taking a centering breath, Frankie rubbed at her chest. Her wolf had never had such a visceral, violent reaction to a scent. Frankie could only conclude that the animal didn’t have good memories of one—if not all three—of the people it belonged to.

“You okay, Frankie?” asked Lydia, concerned.

Frankie blanked her expression. “Sure.”

Lydia didn’t appear convinced, but she smiled. “Good. How about we go see Iris now?”

“Won’t she be too tired to stand another visit?”

“Clara and the triplets weren’t in there very long, and seeing you will lift her spirits.” As Lydia led Frankie through the tunnels, she said, “I have to be honest with you, Frankie, this may be the last time you’re able to speak with her. She’s weakening fast. I’d give it two days at most before she’s gone.”

In that case Frankie was glad she’d come. “I won’t keep her too long.”

Finally they reached Iris’s room. Lydia entered first. “Hey, Mom. You up to seeing another visitor?” She opened the door wide, revealing Frankie.

Iris beamed. “I was hoping you’d come back.”

Frankie smiled, veiling her shock at just how much Iris had weakened. Her face was pale and haggard, and her voice was weak and hoarse.

“How are you?” Iris asked.

Frankie sat in the armchair near the bed. “Good, thanks.”

“You smell like Trick. Do I detect a romance? Going by the mark on your neck, I certainly should.”

“We’re mates.”

Iris swallowed. “I’m relieved that I was here long enough to see you find him. Now I don’t have to worry about you. Trick’s a good boy. My favorite of the Phoenix boys, but don’t tell the others I said that. He’ll take care of you. And you’ll let him,” she insisted. “Now, you’ve had some time to think since we last spoke. You said you were curious about your father. I have some photo albums I’d like to show you, but there’s no pressure. If you’re not ready for that yet or would rather not see them, that’s fine too.”

Kind of curious, Frankie said, “Show me.”

At Iris’s request, Lydia dug them out of the closet and placed them on the bed. She then perched herself on the side of the mattress.

Iris selected the first album and opened it. “As you can probably tell by the Christmas tree in the corner, this was the first Christmas they spent together. They hadn’t realized they were mates, but I think they may have suspected it. That sack Christopher is carrying was full of gifts for her. The handsome hunk in the background is my Alfie.”

Frankie leaned forward in the armchair as she studied the photos of her parents, which showed them opening their gifts, eating turkey, drinking wine, feeding each other pudding, having a snow fight, and celebrating New Year’s Eve. They looked so happy and infatuated with each other.

There were pictures of other people too, such as Iris, Lydia, Clara, Clara’s sons, and someone Iris told her was Clara’s mate, Cesar. They truly looked like one big happy family.

Opening another album, Iris said, “Ah, these are of the mating ceremony. It was simple but beautiful. Not sure how much you know about the ceremonies, but I’ll tell you because you’ll be having your own soon enough. You’ll get all dressed up, and then someone will escort you to a clearing on the territory. The others will already be there, gathered in a circle around Trey and Trick. Once you’ve been escorted into the circle, Trey will recite some words. They don’t have any true power, they’re just ceremonial, but it’s a public way of saying you accept and love each other.”

Lydia stroked a finger over a photo of a younger version of herself holding Caroline’s hand. “Her dress was so beautiful. She looked perfect.”

She really did, thought Frankie. Caroline’s diamond-studded dress of lilac silk was long and hugged her body just right.

“Christopher was so nervous,” said Iris. “But he instantly settled once she walked into the circle.” Turning a page, she added, “These are shots of the after-party.”

Frankie blinked in surprise at seeing Brad and her grandparents in the pictures. “They attended the ceremony?”

“Oh yes,” confirmed Iris. “I don’t think they were very comfortable, though we did our best to make them feel welcome.”

In one picture Frankie noticed Brad in the background, glaring at Christopher. “Brad didn’t like him much, huh?”

“No, he didn’t,” said Lydia. “He took an instant dislike to him. It didn’t seem to be prejudice. Maybe he just felt that his sister could do better, or maybe he just wanted her to live among humans. Marcia and Geoffrey were cordial enough, though I don’t think a shifter would have been their preferred choice of partner for Caroline. The hate they feel for us now didn’t come until after the murder. And who could blame them for that hatred?”

As Iris slowly flicked through the album, Frankie couldn’t help but observe that . . . “Wendel watched my mother a lot.”

Iris looked amused. “So did his brothers and most of the unmated males in the pack. She had such a fragility about her that it made everyone want to sweep her up and protect her.”

The fact that the other males seemed to covet his mate didn’t appear to bother Christopher. He was always laughing and joking with them in the photos, especially Cruz, whom he was pictured with often. “Looks like Christopher and Cruz were close.”

Iris nodded, sighing sadly. “They were. Cruz took his death harder than the others did. He was the first to arrive on the scene. You can imagine how devastated he was to find his best friend dead.”

Frankie couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. As she looked through photos of Brad and Caroline, she noticed Cruz glaring in the background. “I see that Cruz didn’t like Brad.”

“It was more that he didn’t like Brad’s attitude toward Christopher,” said Iris.

They went through another album of random photos, some of which showed Caroline pregnant. Christopher always seemed to be close by, and his hand was often splayed protectively over her round belly.

Selecting yet another album, Iris said, “These pictures are mostly of you, Frankie. I’m not sure if your grandparents told you, but you were born early and the pack healer didn’t think you’d survive. You proved her wrong.”

Actually, Frankie hadn’t known that. More secrets.

“You can see just how proud as punch Caroline and Christopher were of you.”

They did indeed look proud, thought Frankie. Tears even glittered in his eyes at one point as he stared at her, stroking her cheek. “My grandparents have pictures of me with my mother, but none with my father. I should have questioned that, shouldn’t I? I mean, she showed me pictures of some random guy and claimed he was my father, but shouldn’t I have found it weird that he wasn’t in any of the photos with me or my mother?

“I did ask if there were any. Marcia would always say, oh, they’re probably in the attic, and she’d get someone to pull them down for me when she had a chance. And then I’d forget that I asked for them, or I’d drop the subject because speaking of my parents always put her in a bad mood. I should have pushed her.”

Lydia reached over the bed to pat her hand. “You had no reason to question her because you had no reason to believe she’d lie.”

Frankie swallowed as she gazed at one particular photo of Christopher smiling down at Caroline while holding Frankie in his arms. “He loved her.”

“Worshipped her,” said Iris. “Worshipped you.”

The last album showed yet more photos—some were taken on Christmases, others on birthdays or Halloweens—and Frankie could see herself changing as she aged. There were many of her cuddling with Iris and Lydia, and it was clear that they had indeed loved her, just as she’d clearly loved them in return.

“This picture here was taken at your third birthday party,” said Iris. “The little boy tying balloons on your wrists is Trick. You asked him to do it, hoping they’d lift you into the air.”

Lydia pointed to one of Frankie and her parents at her party. The three of them were huddled around a cake, smiling. “That’s one of my favorite photos. You should take it.”

Iris nodded. “I’d offer you one of the albums, Frankie, but I know you won’t take any. Still, you should have at least one photo of the three of you together. One of a happy time.”

Frankie didn’t want to take it, worried she’d squash or lose it. “I’ll snap a picture of it with my cell phone.”

“You should take a snap of the one of you and Trick too,” suggested Lydia. “He’ll get a kick out of seeing that.”

Having taken a picture of both photos, Frankie looked at Iris. “You’re tired.”

Iris sighed. “Always am these days. Even if I hadn’t had the mating bond, Alfie’s death would have broken me. I couldn’t have survived long without him, whatever the case.” She placed her hand over Frankie’s. “You take care now, you hear? You grab every bit of happiness out of life that you can get. Don’t let anyone steal that happiness from you. Take care of Trick, and let him take care of you. Even a strong woman needs to lean on her man sometimes. I miss mine. I’m okay with dying, because it means I’ll see him again.”

Swallowing hard, Frankie squeezed her hand. She wished she could have told Iris that she loved her and would miss her, but it would have been a lie. Iris was still too much of a stranger. Instead Frankie said, “I’m glad I got the chance to know you.” That earned her a wide smile. “Rest now.”

“Couldn’t stay awake if I tried.”

Outside the room, Frankie asked Lydia, “How are you doing?”

Face pained, Lydia exhaled heavily. “Okay.”

“Must be hard losing both your parents in such a short time. I can’t say I can relate to that, since I can’t remember losing mine.”

“Dad’s death was a shock. Mom’s won’t be, but it will still be hard. Thank you for seeing her. She’ll rest easier now when she passes.”

“You don’t need to thank me. Like I told Iris, I’m glad I got the chance to know her. So thank you for taking a chance on me and sending me that e-mail.”

Lydia gave her a watery smile. “Thank you for responding to the e-mail and giving us a chance.”

A croaky voice called out from inside the room, “Are you going to keep thanking each other for stuff, or are you going to leave so I can sleep?”

That got an eye roll out of Lydia. “We’re going, we’re going.”

Standing in his Alpha’s office, Trick had just finished listening to Trey’s account of the call he’d made to Morelli the previous night. Anger flooded him. “He laughed?”

Trey nodded, hands planted on his desk. “Said he thought I was joking. Said he’s quite aware that Drake’s a wild card, but he didn’t figure him for an idiot. I insisted that Drake is a total fucking idiot. Morelli said he’d talk to him and call me back today at noon. That’s why I summoned you home. I figured you’d want to be here when he called.”

Dante scratched his chin. “We can’t really blame Morelli for wanting to check out your story, Trey. You’d do the same, in his position.”

“That doesn’t mean I like that he doubted my word or the word of one of my wolves. I definitely don’t like that he found what I had to say fucking amusing. I asked Nick if Morelli had called him, asking for a meet,” said Trey, referring to the Alpha of the Mercury Pack, which was so closely allied with theirs that they shared both Roni and Marcus. “He said no.”

“On another note, how’s Bracken doing?” Trick asked, referring to one of the Mercury enforcers. Bracken and his parents, sisters, brother-in-law, and baby nephew had been at a shifter-owned drive-in cinema when all hell broke loose. Anti-shifter extremists had not only thrown grenades and detonated several bombs, they’d had snipers picking off the people who tried to flee. Only Bracken, his mother, and one of his sisters got out alive. Neither female tried to survive the breaking of her mating bond. Within days they too died.

Trey’s expression was grim. “According to Nick, not good. It was bad enough that he lost his whole family just like that. The worst of it is . . . Bracken was holding the baby when he died. The bullet hit Bracken in the back and went right through him into the three-month-old’s head. He had the baby’s blood and brains splattered all over him.”

“Jesus,” Trick breathed, rubbing his nape. “No wonder the guy looked like the living dead the last time I saw him.”

Just then, Trey’s cell phone rang. The Alpha tapped the screen, putting the call on speakerphone, and clipped, “Hello.”

“Coleman, it’s Nash. How are you doing on this fine afternoon?”

Trey’s jaw hardened. “How’s Drake?”

“He was doing better until I beat his ass for attacking your wolf. He knows I want an alliance with your pack—such behavior does not help my cause. It is in fact counterproductive, and I don’t suppose it’s helped convince you to accept me as an ally, has it?”

“No.”

“Maybe this will help. Drake has been punished. Severely. He has also been suspended as Beta. When I’m ready to reinstate his position, I will. But only if he proves himself.”

Trick exchanged a grim look with Dante. Suspending a Beta never worked out well. To lose his position even temporarily would lose Drake the respect of his pack mates. They would no longer consider him an authority, and at least one of them would decide to challenge him for the position. In other words, it created discord and resentment and it made the hierarchy unstable.

In past instances of a Beta being suspended, they often did the only thing that would regain the rest of the pack’s respect and obedience—they challenged their Alpha. If Morelli were a true Alpha, he’d have known that instinctively. Of course, there was no saying he truly had suspended Drake. Morelli could just be feeding Trey shit to placate him.

“Pass on my apologies to Trick,” Morelli continued. “He can be assured that Drake won’t bother him again.”

“You positive of that?” asked Trey.

“One hundred percent. You have my word on that.”

“If Drake does attack again, I’ll hold you responsible.” With that, Trey ended the call.

Dominic pursed his lips. “Do you think he’s really suspended him?”

“I don’t know,” said Marcus. “He’ll be pissed at Drake for what he did. And if he’s dumb enough to claim he suspended him thinking it would impress Trey, he’s also dumb enough to have actually done it.”

“Whatever the case, he’ll order Drake to stay away from you,” Trey told Trick.

Tao nodded. “The question is, can Morelli keep that dog on a leash?”

“No,” said Trick. “But Morelli believes he can, so he won’t watch him close enough. We need to be prepared for Drake to make another move.”

Once the meeting was over, Trick left the office in search of Frankie. He found her in the living area, curled up on an armchair. Careful not to spill her coffee, he gently picked her up and sat down, settling her on his lap. “Hey, baby. You have a good talk with Iris?”

“Yeah. We looked at some photos. Check these out.” She pulled out her cell phone and showed him the pictures she’d taken.

Trick laughed at the one of them at her birthday party. “I remember that. I kept telling you the balloons wouldn’t make you fly, but you were determined to try.” He looked at the photo of her and her parents, wondering how the fuck a family that looked that happy together could possibly go to shit.

“Iris said she thought I should have one of me with them.”

“It’s okay to want it, Frankie.” But he sensed she felt some guilt. “There’s nothing bad about treasuring a happy moment.” Even if that happiness had later evaporated.

“I kind of hoped that looking through the albums would jog my memories, that I might remember something, which is just stupid, since people rarely recall any memories from that age. But I hate that there are so many holes in the story.”

Trick kissed her forehead. “I know you do. But you have to stop being mad at yourself,” he said quietly, “because it’s pissing me off.”

“Excuse me?” She kept her voice low, so it didn’t carry to the others.

“You’re angry with yourself because you think you could solve the mystery so easily if you hadn’t buried the memories when you were a kid. But it’s not your fault, Frankie. You hear me? It’s not your fault. We’ll probably never have the answers. You need to learn to be okay with that or you’ll torment yourself, and then I’ll have to paddle your ass because no one hurts my mate—not even her.”

While part of her bristled at his words, Frankie found herself snorting in amusement. “Paddle my ass, huh?”

“Paddle your ass, yes. I’ll make no bones about it—do not test me on this.”

She frowned. “You can’t make bones at all.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s a figure of speech, and you know what I mean,” he said impatiently. He smoothed his hand down her back. “I’ll bet your ass would turn a very pretty shade of pink.” Trick was getting hard just thinking about it. “In fact, fuck the paddle. I’d use my hands. Yeah, seeing my handprints on your ass would be seriously fucking hot.”

“You don’t really have a paddle, do you?” His wicked smile was all the answer she needed. And it made her blush. She was about to declare, in no uncertain terms, that no paddle would get anywhere near her ass, but then his eyes cut to something over her shoulder. “What is it?” she asked.

“Why are the kids staring at you?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m thinking they like the smell of my fear.”

Chuckling, Trick tucked his face in the crook of her neck.

“It’s really not funny.” But he just laughed harder. Asshole.

Frankie rubbed her arms. She was inside her display room. It was cold. Dark. She heard sniffling. She turned. It was her sculpture of the girl in the chair, her head plopped forward. She was sniveling and—

The sound abruptly cut off. There was a deathly chill to the silence. And Frankie was suddenly very afraid. The girl’s head began to lift, the movement stiff and jerky. Oh sweet Jesus, no. The synthetic hair parted. The face . . . it was Frankie. A much younger Frankie. “He hurt her,” she whispered.

“Who?” Frankie asked, her voice cracking. “Who hurt her?”

The child’s head slowly turned. She stiffly lifted her hand. Pointed.

Turning her head just as slowly, Frankie looked. Gasped. There was a black, frothy blur bobbing in the air. There were no eyes, but it saw her. She felt its eyes on her.

The scent of rain, brine, and burned wood swirled around her as a grating voice said, “You’re supposed to be in bed, Frankie.”

Frankie’s eyes snapped open, and she sucked in a breath and gripped the coverlet. Her heart was pounding like a drum, slamming against her ribs. She sucked in another breath, feeling like she couldn’t get enough air.

A warm, calloused hand cupped her cheek. “Shh, baby, it was just a nightmare.” Trick gathered her close and kissed her hair. “Want to talk about it?”

She shook her head, burrowing into him, absorbing his warmth and inhaling his scent. She supposed it wasn’t surprising that she’d have a nightmare, given that her mind was full of dark questions to which she had no answers. Still, it had been damn disturbing. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Shit, her voice actually trembled.

“Shh,” he soothed, kissing her hair again. “Sleep. I’ve got you.”

She snuggled closer and shut her eyes, but it was a long time before she fell back to sleep.