Midnight Moonrising (Moonrising #2)(37)

"Have a seat in the living room. I'll go get dressed and then we can go eat, but I'm not eating at the damn Waffle House. Pick somewhere else," Alex growled over his shoulder as he went back into his bedroom and shut the door.

He wasn't worried they would steal anything. Hell, he didn't have much worth anything, anyway, but if they were working for Mena, they couldn't possibly want for anything. He was just a little anxious about their intentions at one-thirty in the morning. Had Mena sent them?

He pulled on blue jeans and a black muscle shirt, socks and running shoes, a navy toboggan and a black leather jacket. After tucking his handgun in the waistband at the small of his back, Alex walked out of his bedroom, ready for anything.





Chapter 22



Mena





I closed Jaxon's chamber door, being careful to make as little noise as possible.

Lea was a mess, but had finally cried herself to sleep in my arms. She told me I could leave after she fell asleep, but asked if I would stay until then.


I knew how broken she felt, because I was living in that same empty place inside my head, too, but at least the wolf refused to let me feel the pain caused from losing loved ones, and if I was being honest, me, too; I had lost myself. That human girl who had been married to Marc for twelve years was gone. She was dead, and I was angry with my wolf for not allowing me to grieve my own death.

My heart had broken into a million pieces when I'd realized Katie had been killed in the explosion, but I think the only reason I felt that much grief was because my wolf was feeling it, too, and didn't have the mental strength to block it from me. That was my theory.

Once I heard the click of the door as it closed completely, I turned and was startled to see Phoenix leaning against the wall beside his room, arms crossed loosely over his chest and one knee bent so his bare foot could rest against the wall. Besides his feet, he was fully clothed, and I think he did it on purpose, knowing I would undress him with my eyes, anyway.

He wasn't smiling, but I didn't know if that was because of what Lea was going through or what we were about to go through.

"How is she?" he said sadly.

"A wreck, but she's asleep, for now. I know she's the one who usually takes care of you and makes sure that you get everything you want, but you need to let her have time to grieve, Phoenix. And you need to make sure someone takes care of her until she gets through this."

He frowned and looked down at his arms. "Do you honestly think I wouldn't let her take as long as she needed to grieve for a sibling who was murdered by one of my men? Do you think that little of me, that I'm that inconsiderate, Mena?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, mimicking him. "I know it wouldn't have occurred to Marc to think—"

He quickly pushed off the wall, his posture turning stone-like as his sad eyes filled with fury. "I—am—not—Marc," he said, putting emphasis on each word.

Lifting my chin, I glared down my nose at him. I hated it when he was irritated with me, even if I deserved it, but I was a little pissed at him myself, and now wasn't the time for him to push my buttons. It was a full ten seconds before I spoke again. "I know you aren't Marc, but the fact remains that I was with him for twelve years and never really knew him. I apologize if what I said came out wrong. I was angry—I'm still angry with you, but I really didn't mean to say something to imply that you are selfish."

His hands came up to rub up then down his face. He looked spent, and I wondered if his sleeping patterns were a lot like mine, pretty much nonexistent. I knew I was exhausted; I was having trouble finding the energy to stay mad at him, especially when he looked so damn hot barefooted. The bastard sure knew how to work me up.

Without looking at me again, he spun around and walked into his room.

Going back into Jaxon's room and sleeping beside Lea came to mind—the bed was plenty big enough—but Phoenix and I had unfinished business. Ignoring it might be okay for one night, a week or maybe even a month, but it would come out sooner or later and I didn't like letting my bad moods stew. If I let the anger in me build, it took control over a part of me and made me bitter toward the person I was angry with, causing me to resent them for it. I resented Marc a lot.

Putting one foot in front of the other, I walked through the open door of Phoenix's chamber and was surprised to find he wasn't in the room—anywhere.

"Phoenix?" I said, but got no response. The master bathroom door was shut, but everything was soundproof down here, so I wasn't surprised I couldn't hear anything coming from the other side of the door. "Wonderful," I muttered, and crossed the room to the bar.

My eyes widened after I opened a cabinet that was just as wide as it was tall—and it was a good foot taller than me. Each shelf was full of whiskies and scotches and spirits, and not just lining the front; there were at least four bottles of the same stuff in a line behind the ones displayed on the front row.

"You should see the wine cellar."

I jumped and screamed as I slammed the doors of the cabinet. Twisting around, I saw Jaxon propped against the doorjamb.

His eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked at me, and they held no sign of the attraction I'd sensed from him the first night we'd met. I had a feeling Phoenix may have had something to do with that, and that was fine by me; I liked Jaxon just fine, just not in the way I liked Phoenix or my wolf liked Alex.