Wolves' Bane (The Order of the Wolf, #3)(11)

Cal laid his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes, gently massaging his aching temples with his fingers. He’d been awake for almost two days searching for her. They’d known that she would be at a fair, but they hadn’t known exactly what city to look for her in. They’d had nothing but the pulse of Cal’s tattoo to point them in the right direction. It had been a hectic search, and now that she was safely in his care, he finally felt like he could rest. Except that as soon as he closed his eyes, his mind raced with the knowledge that if Morgan was truly Lazarus’s bride, he’d been dealt the shittiest hand he could imagine. Things had just gotten very complicated.

He needed to speak with the Oracle and find out what was going on. There had to be some mistake. His Huntress could not be destined for the wolf king.

Cal sighed as he listened to the conversation buzzing around him—Lance explaining to Morgan as much as he could to quell her fears and her questions, knowing that it was going to be Cal’s responsibility to give her all the details. It was part of his duty, just as it would be Lance’s duty when he found his own Huntress.

Morgan startled him by grasping his bicep and tugging his hand from his face. Cal jerked his head up to look at her, worry crashing over him as he saw her expression shatter before his eyes.

“I don’t know what to believe, Caleb.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. Finally, the mask was crumbling. “How am I supposed to believe this?”

He placed his hand on her knee, taking an immense amount of pleasure in the fact that she eased herself closer to him, melting into his side. He was sure she didn’t realize she was doing it. The magnetic pull of their bond was working on her to a certain degree as well.

“It doesn’t make a lot of sense right now,” Cal told her, unable to help himself as he raised his hand to brush some stray tendrils of her hair from her face. “You’ve been through a lot, more than anyone should have to go through in a single night. You’re a pretty strong woman. Very brave.” She stared intently at him, making him wonder just how much was sinking in. “You’re not going crazy, Morgan. We have a long drive ahead. Why don’t you get some sleep? You’re safe with us. No one will hurt you while you’re under my care.”

She swallowed, closed her eyes for a moment and sucked in a deep breath. When she opened them, she was again all business. “I need a phone. I have to call Rachel.” Fire and brimstone flashed in her eyes.

Cal nodded as he tugged his cell phone from his pocket. “Here.” He handed it to her. “Call her. I suggest you tell her that you’re okay, and that you’re going to stay with a friend for a while.” He frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to him—something the Oracle had not specified in her ramblings. “Maybe you should call your parents too.”

Something skittered across Morgan’s eyes before she glanced down at his phone. “I don’t have any family left.”

“I’m sorry—” he started.

She shook her head fiercely. “No, don’t be, I’m not.”

Pity tugged at his heart, and as much as he wanted to shield himself from it, his instinct to protect this girl meant emotionally as well as physically. He draped his arm around her shoulders, cursing the cloak and its bulky folds that prevented his skin from actually touching her. He shifted more to the side and pulled her toward him, ignoring her startled gasp as he turned her so that he could fit her back against his chest.

“You’re safe with us, with me. Please don’t ever forget that,” he whispered in her hair, loving the smell of her, his body responding with possessive satisfaction to finally have her cradled against him.

She froze and he tensed, waiting for her to pull away. The bond was in full effect on his end, not so much on hers. For now, he was a stranger—someone she might feel an unexplainable connection to, but nothing at all like he was feeling. At least not until they bonded officially. After a moment, she seemed to melt into him again and he sighed with contentment. He laid his head back and closed his eyes as he listened to her leave a message for her friend—Rach—saying that she was safe and would keep in touch.

It took us eight hours to get to our destination, and during that time, Caleb refused to release his hold on me. He had me locked in a tight grip while he slept like the dead. Strangely, I didn’t mind, even when his hand snaked up to cup my breast and I had to shoo it back to my waist. Still, I wasn’t creeped out.

Okay, maybe I was a little creeped out…but more by the flutter in my stomach at being nestled in his arms. Like he was some romance novel hero and I was a damsel in distress. The man was a walking wet dream and, bizarrely, I felt very much at ease with him.

Why though? It made no sense.

I couldn’t sleep even though I was beyond exhausted. I was way too amped up with everything that had happened. Every time my lids shut, all I could see was Jimmy’s dead eyes staring back at me. So I stayed awake and spent the majority of my time studying the strange tattoo that marked Caleb’s forearm. I couldn’t make out what it was exactly, but the design was Celtic-looking, with thick black bands of ink circling around the sides of his arm.

As the sun slowly rose, Lance turned the truck off the highway and onto a gravel road.

“We’re home,” he sang, startling both Ken and Caleb from their sleep.

Caleb grunted as he brought his head forward, his grip still tight around my waist. He tilted his face to my hair, inhaling deeply once again. It made me feel…owned…and not in a bad way. I shook my head, trying to get my senses back on line when home appeared around a final bend in the road. My eyes wide with awe, I took in the massive—more than massive—colossal century home that stood before me. It was a beautiful old redbrick mansion, lined with large windows, a wraparound porch and at least two wings.