Wolves' Bane (The Order of the Wolf, #3)(89)

Now it was gone, and I felt like I could breathe again.

The only thing that dragged me down now was the longing I felt for Cal. The intense burning need to touch him, to be with him, to hear him speak. I hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to break the bond. Partly because I hadn’t really met a man who interested me like Cal did—a man who made me burn with desire like he had. The other part that stopped me from breaking the bond was this crazy hope of mine. I foolishly thought that one day I would wake up and he would be there, waiting for me to open the front door, or better yet, curled up behind me in my bed.

But that hadn’t happened. Every morning for the past seven weeks, I’d woken alone, the intensity of my longing bringing me to tears. I wasn’t worried about falling into depression again—I felt too powerful for that. But I did miss him. A lot. And I knew I couldn’t compete with his loyalty to the Order. He wouldn’t betray his vows.

I spent a lot of time alone these days. Rachel had drifted away from me. She seemed to be doing well, getting over the shock and terror of her experience with Lazarus, but she wasn’t yet back to normal, and I guessed she never would be. I struggled with my guilt over Rachel’s transformation. I missed my friend and wished I could erase the horror that she’d endured. But after I had explained everything to her, after I’d told her about Cal and the Hunters, about Lazarus and the pack, Rachel had vowed her silence and then basically had shut me out. We’d meet and have coffee every so often, but clearly she wanted her distance from me, and that was something I could understand. Needing distance was something I knew a lot about.

I hadn’t bothered to go back to my job at the bookstore. Instead, I’d arranged to pick up a few classes as a teaching assistant for my professor. It didn’t pay well, but with my scholarship I didn’t need a ton of money. Plus, the thought of mentoring some new students through their studies kind of appealed to me. I had a lot of expertise to offer and it made me feel like I was doing something important.

I sighed as I swung lazily, my bare feet pushing off the porch railing as I took another sip of my drink. Life was falling into place. It wasn’t perfect. I was desperately lonely and the tug I felt in my heart for Cal had never faded, but at least I had some direction and distractions to help me through it. And I hadn’t had any run-ins with the wolves. With Lazarus dead, they were staying in hiding. Not that I wasn’t prepared. I had a few dozen weapons hidden all over my house, all within easy reach no matter what room I was in. I also had used my spell memory to etch my house and property from top to bottom—no unwanted guests, beast or otherwise could step a toe onto my grass. I may have walked away from the Order, but I wasn’t stupid. Those wolves knew where I was and what I looked like, but if they wanted me they were going to be in for one hell of a fight.

As twilight descended, I shifted my feet to the floor and stood, stretching out to ease my muscles. The Saturday night revelers were making their way down the street, searching out the party house of the night on the next block. My street was never the one chosen for the drinkers. It was always the frat houses that got all the attention. I smiled at the sound of laughter fading away, which was not yet drunk but not completely sober either. Shouts and giggles all around me. And the sound of a motorcycle roaring somewhere close.

I moved to the door, my hand on the knob. When the parties started, I hid away in the house, as usual having grand plans to watch some old movies, read a romance, go to bed early. Boring but safe.

I frowned as the roar of the motorcycle got closer, the revving engine sounding like it was turning onto my block rather than away from it. I shifted toward the noise, squinting as I craned my neck to peer down the road.

The bike came into view seconds later, blasting its motor as it flew down the street. I dropped my hand from the knob and turned just as the motorcycle with its leather-clad rider stopped in front of my house.

My heart thudded with a wallop.

My hands began to shake as I took a step off the porch and watched the rider swing his leg over the motorcycle. He lifted his hands to his helmet as he moved around the bike.

The helmet came off, revealing lush brown hair—much longer than it had been—a strong chiseled face, and piercing blue eyes.

“Cal,” I breathed.

He held the helmet in one hand at his side while he brushed the other through his hair, all the while staring at me, a lopsided grin pulling his lips. I took another step toward him, somehow doubting what my eyes were telling me.

“Cal?” I frowned, my confusion stunting my thoughts. “What are you going here?”

He moved toward me, closing the distance between us with a few easy strides. Staring down at me, he cleared his throat, lifted his hand to rub over his mouth, wiping the smile away, seemingly lost for words himself.

“Is everything okay?” I whispered as I stared at him, my mind reeling.

Cal shook his head, his brow pulling into a frown as he moved his hand to my face, cupping my cheek and tenderly stroking his thumb over my skin. “No,” he croaked.

My heart strained against my chest, threatening to beat itself right out of my body. “What’s wrong?” I murmured, my voice sounding strange, like I was dreaming and had lost control over myself. “Is Candy all right? Lance? Have you found Andrew?”

Cal shook his head. “No, no, everyone is fine.” He sighed. “We haven’t found Andrew yet.”