Awakened by the Wolf (8 page)

Chapter 11

“S
till sneaking around to avoid your father?” Granny's raspy words carried a strong reprimand.

Hating the disappointment in her voice, Brice shut the window and sat in the chair next to her bed. The grayish color in Granny's skin twisted his stomach into tiny knots. “How are you feeling?”

“Tonight isn't about me, my boy.”

“Of course it is. You're the reason I came.”

“And when I'm gone?” Her soft words lashed his heart. Emotion swelled his throat. Granny had helped him so much through his teenage years, especially when it became evident that the animosity between him and his father would escalate to violence.

“Don't say that.” The gnawing in his gut chewed into his chest and chomped at his heart. When he was growing up, Brice had gravitated to Granny for comfort. He should have turned to her after the attack, not Adam.

“You must let go of those no longer destined for this world.” Her hoarse voice faded.

“I can't.” Brice curled his large hand over her cold, bony one.

“You can.” The squeeze of her fingers held no strength. “And you will. Everything will be as it should be. You'll see.”

Brice wanted to be the little wolf who believed that when Granny said things would turn out all right, they did. The problem was that life had a way of black-and-bluing the innocence of childhood. Reality really did bite, and it hurt a hell of a lot more than a wolfan's teeth.

He'd spent the past five years angry and confused. When he'd leaped onto her porch last night, he'd craved her counsel, and her blessing. He wanted Granny to understand the rare opportunity offered to him by the Woelfesenat, and he wanted her to support his decision.

Now that he had the chance to tell her, Brice's courage failed.

“Don't look so sad, my boy.” The love in Granny's eyes wrapped around Brice's heart and squeezed the breath from his chest. He didn't deserve her love, but he sure was grateful for it.

“Your mate will help you when I am gone.” Granny stroked his cheek the way she used to dry his tears. “She will calm the storm that's raged in you for far too long.”

“I don't have a mate,” Brice said gently.

“You have Cassie.”

Not really. Although meeting her had sparked something inside him, she couldn't alter his fate. The howl in his head, the attraction he felt, his reaction to her scent—all that meant nothing.

“She's been good to me. She'll be good to you, too.” Granny's mouth twitched.

“I don't need someone to take care of me.”

“Of course you do.” Her shallow breathing remained slow, steady. “Except for your coloring, you remind me of your grandfather.”

“I don't remember him,” Brice confessed.

“You were only two when he died. I told him to see the doctor about that croup. Damn old wolf.” Granny's finger covered her dry lips. “Don't tell anyone I cussed.”

“I won't.” Brice matched her conspiratorial grin, even though his heart was splintering into sharp little pieces.

“Gavin is like him, too. Stubborn as a plow mule, tenderhearted as a lamb.” Granny's eyelids fluttered.

“My father doesn't have a soft spot in his body. If he did, he'd claw it out and eat it raw.” The angry words slipped out before Brice had a chance to filter them.

Granny flattened the palm of her IV-tethered hand against the bed. She waggled her one-fingered chastisement. “Gavin had to be stronger than most new Alphas because I'm human.”

“Why? Wahyas have mated with humans since the beginning.”

“Some prejudices run deep and dark. And deadly. Gavin made many sacrifices to protect us. To protect you.” Her cough turned into a gasping wheeze.

Not knowing what else to do, Brice poured her a cup of water. She drank a few sips and waved him off. “I'm all right.”

“You need to rest.” Brice held her hand against his chest, trying to share his strength and knowing it would do no good.

He wasn't ready. He wanted more time.

“Do something for me.” Granny's words were nearly lost in the drone of the machines.

“Anything.” Brice leaned closer.

“Make peace with your father.” Her chest began to heave as she struggled to take the next breath. “And look after Cassie.”

A snow cone had a better chance at surviving hellfire than Brice and his father had at reconciling. As for Cassie, she was too damn independent to appreciate him sticking his nose into her well-planned life.

He said as much.

Granny pinned him with one uncompromising eye, waiting. Pleading.

The finality of her wish struck a bull's-eye in Brice's heart. Sorrow bubbled in his stomach. The caustic fumes rose in his throat, infiltrated his nose and stung his eyes. When he took a breath to clear the burning sensation, his lungs seemed to clog with ash.

It wasn't fair for her to ask him to do something that required someone else's cooperation. He couldn't control his father's attitude or Cassie's willingness to accept help. He'd be a fool to commit to Granny's outrageous request.

All the pieces of his heart throbbed in perfect time. The dirge scored his chest. How could he not give her the last thing she'd asked of him?

“I promise,” he said with the conviction his grandmother expected, because a Walker never reneged on a promise.

* * *

Cassie awoke in Brice's bed, confused. The last thing she remembered was studying on the couch while Brice got ready to go to the hospital.

She sensed rather than saw him perched on the edge of the mattress. “Brice?”

“I didn't mean to wake you. I just needed—” His jagged breath drowned out the rest.

The heavy shroud of his grief blanketed her.
Oh, no!
Unexpected pain imploded in her chest, and the crushing weight squeezed the air from her lungs.

Cassie shook her head and forced a breath through her constricted airways. She needed to hold it together for Brice. He was the rightful one to grieve. Margaret was his grandmother, not hers.

“I'm so sorry.” The need to offer Brice physical comfort warred with her need for self-preservation. Without permission, Margaret Walker had wheedled a place into Cassie's heart. She couldn't afford another breach. Still, she knew what it felt like to suffer alone and didn't want to abandon him in his time of need.

She touched his shoulder.

He flinched.

Thinking it might be prudent to leave him alone to deal with his loss, Cassie started to draw back. Brice's fingers grazed the back of her hand, stilling her retreat. He lightly squeezed her fingers, then curved her palm against his cheek.

In the woods, and every time he became nauseated, he'd done the same. Her scent calmed and soothed him, so he said. Since she had nothing else to offer for comfort, Cassie scooted closer and wrapped herself around him.

Brice's shoulders rose along with an audible, exaggerated breath. He exhaled just as slowly and slumped into Cassie's embrace. She refrained from filling the silence with the words of comfort others had given her. Hearing her mother had moved on to a better place without her hadn't given Cassie solace, and she doubted the empty words would dull Brice's pain, either.

She gently rocked him in her arms for untold minutes before the antiseptic hospital smell lacing the fabric of his shirt became too much for her to stomach. She helped him take off the shirt and tossed it in the laundry basket near the closet.

“I should've come home sooner. Spent more time with her.” With sluggish movements, Brice finished undressing, then lay next to Cassie on the bed.

“Your grandmother loved you very much, and you loved her. That's all that matters.”

“Granny loved you, too, Cas.” Brice's whisper cut through Cassie. “She really did.”

After the stun from the revelation passed, a silent wail broke loose from a place deep inside Cassie's being. Ever since Imogene's death, Cassie had assumed she was alone in the world. It never occurred to her that someone else could truly care for her. Now that someone was gone. The sudden knowledge made the loss sharper, the loneliness starker.

Praying for strength because of her weakness, Cassie inched close enough to Brice to feel his heat. He gathered her in his arms and kissed the crown of her head. She buried her face in the broad expanse of his chest. The strong, steady beat of his heart, a lighthouse to her weary soul, beckoned her to a safe harbor.

Until Brice came along, Cassie had weathered many storms quite well on her own. She couldn't allow this tempest to change her.

Tomorrow she'd repair the cracks in her resolve. For tonight—and tonight only—she needed the anchor Brice's presence provided.

Chapter 12

B
ehind his desk, Gavin Walker sat Lincoln-style, his shoulders straight, hands slightly curled on the thick leather arms of the executive chair. The chiseled planes of his weathered face were a masterpiece of stoicism. The only indication that he was indeed alive rather than a marble statue was the watchfulness of his calculating blue eyes.

“Nice of you to finally show up.” His father's sarcastic tone rubbed Brice like a briar between his paw pads.

Nothing courteous he'd rehearsed in his mind stuck. Angry declarations, ugly accusations bounced in his head until he pressed his lips together to keep from firing the words lined up on his tongue like poisonous darts.

Communication between them had never been easy. In the aftermath of Mason's death, it became impossible. Evidently time hadn't worked any miracles.

Palms up, Brice spread his arms wide. “Granny asked me to come.” He sat in one of the two captain's chairs in front of the desk, rested his booted foot on the opposite knee and threaded his fingers together over his stomach.

Seconds ticked an eternity. Brice refused to be the first to give in. He rubbed his hand over his morning whiskers and down his throat to scratch the sensitive scars itchy from the stress.

As his father's gaze took in each vicious mark, a sickening grimace contorted his mouth.

“Still can't stand the sight of me.” Brice thought he'd grown immune to his father's disdain. Somehow it needled into a tiny, foolish, unguarded piece of his heart and stuck.

More silence volleyed between them. The longer the quietness stretched, the more the anger, the hurt, the frustration simmering inside Brice bubbled. Everything he wanted to say, needed to say, tangled on his tongue.

As a lawyer in his uncle's firm, Brice routinely mediated hostile business negotiations. The Woelfesenat had even recruited him to arbitrate aggressions between warring packs. His success depended upon finding common ground.

Considering Brice and his father never saw eye to eye on anything, it might prove impossible to find a neutral starting point. Nevertheless, he had to try.

“I'm sorry for your loss.” Nothing in his father's demeanor had expressed remorse over Granny's death. Still, Brice needed to acknowledge it. “I was with her at the end. She went peacefully.”

A tiny fracture appeared in Gavin's stony manner. His shoulders rounded. His wrinkled brow slanted over troubled eyes. “She wanted you with her, though I imagine it must have been hard on you.”

A sudden swell of grief brought Brice the acute awareness that his grandmother would never rock his children to sleep, soothe their tears or give them ice cream on a hot summer day. How strange that he would mourn something missed by children he never expected to father.

He brushed the tickle at the tip of his ear in an attempt to flick away the nearly imperceptible howl pestering his conscience.

Gavin straightened in his chair. “When I spoke to Adam this morning, he reluctantly admitted that you've been missing since Thursday. Needless to say, he was quite relieved when I explained that you had arrived safely Saturday night.”

The blood in Brice's veins chilled. “How do you know when I returned?”

“Cooter spotted you at Gilmer's Bend.” Gavin paused. “That's a dangerous waterway. Don't swim it again. I don't want the wolflings to emulate that stunt. It's bad enough they continue to tease Cybil because of that stupid prank you and Rafe played.”

Brice didn't argue. He didn't want any of the youngsters getting hurt, either. If he'd known their teenaged pig-wrangling adventure would turn into a rite of passage for the wolflings, well, he probably would've done it anyway. He and Rafe had the best time of their lives freeing Cybil from the pen in their human forms, then corralling her as wolves. Cybil had been neither afraid of them nor willing to return to her sty. By the time they wrangled her back inside the pen, he and Rafe had more than their fair share of cuts and bruises and a few broken ribs.

“Anyway, Cooter called after your mother and I left the hospital. I brought Abby home and told her I needed to run. I was too late to catch you before you reached the cabin.” The corners of his father's eyes stretched into a smile more than his lips. “You and Miss Albright gave me quite a show. I trust she didn't cause permanent damage to your balls.”

If Brice didn't know better, he'd swear that his father was teasing him. However, he did know better. Gavin Walker never teased.

Brice placed both feet flat on the floor. “Why didn't you come for me afterward?”

“I didn't want you taking off again. Your grandmother needed you, and you needed to be with her. Now that she's gone, I want—”

“Allow me the decency to see her laid to rest before you kick me out again.”

A dark, unsettling look crossed his father's face. “As you wish.” He tossed Brice a set of keys and a cell phone. “Your mother prepared your old room in the hope you would return.”

Brice wanted to project his negotiator's face. The blank one that gave no hint to his thoughts or emotions.

He failed.

First his eyes bugged. He felt the tightness behind the orbs as they bulged forward. An immediate dryness followed, since his eyelids were stuck wide-open.

Next his jaw went slack. Thank God his mouth didn't drop open, spilling nonsensical prattle. For chrissakes, did his father think he would ever sleep under the same roof with him again?

Hell, no. Sixteen years were more than plenty.

“I'll remain at the cabin,” Brice said, glad that his voice sounded normal.

“Ah, that brings me to the matter of Miss Albright.” Gavin folded his hands over his waist and swiveled his chair side to side in a slow sweep.

“Granny's will deeds the cabin to me unless you force me to forfeit.” Brice paused, bracing for an epic battle. A banished pack member couldn't own property inside the territory.

When his father shook his head to indicate he wouldn't interfere, Brice's insides jarred as if he'd stopped suddenly on a roller-coaster ride.

“Good.” He cleared the rattle from his voice. “Granny asked that I take care of Cassie. I plan to give her full use of the cabin when I return to Atlanta. Until then, we'll share the space.” And a bed, though his father didn't need to know that tidbit.

“Perhaps you should rent her an apartment in Maico, or give her money to find other accommodations.”

“She refused to let me pay for an oil change. I doubt she'll take rent money.”

“Son, people might misconstrue the circumstances.”

“I don't care what people think.”

“Do you know who her mother was?” Gavin's disapproval swamped the room.

“What the hell does that matter?” Brice didn't judge people based on their parentage or anything else except their own merit.

“Imogene Struthers.”

The name detonated the room.

The deafening percussion banged in Brice's ears. Oh, yeah, he knew of Imogene Struthers. A pretty little drunk who'd slept with men for money when she ran out of her own. Brice's father had ordered the pack's unmated males to stay away from her. He didn't want the taint infecting the pack.

Brice hadn't known Imogene had a daughter. “Cassie isn't like her mother.”

“You just met her. How can you be sure?”

Because yesterday morning, with steel in her eyes and grit in her voice, Cassie declared she didn't want or need Brice's money, and he believed her. The apple might not fall far from the tree, but it sure as hell could roll from beneath its shadow.

“I'll take my chances.”

“Very well.” Gavin's thumb tapped against the silver wedding band on his finger. “Go see Doc. Get a good physical and whatever else he feels you need.”

Since his father dropped the issue of questioning Cassie's character, Brice's mood mellowed. “I had a checkup three months ago. Shots updated and everything.”

Gavin's commanding look rubbed Brice raw; however, since he was no longer in hiding, Brice had planned to visit the pack physician for his bouts of nausea anyway.

“While you're in town, take time to visit the pack,” Gavin ordered.

“I'm not here to socialize.”

“They've missed you. And you missed a lot of important events in their lives.”

Just when Brice thought they'd manage to remain civil for an entire conversation, his father had to bring up a matter that needed no spark before the explosion. Raging frustration unhinged Brice's control. He jumped to his feet and stalked to his father's desk.

“I've missed important events?” His fists slammed the mahogany desk, knocking over a crystal picture frame. He snatched up the photo of a tawny adolescent wolf and a black wolfling pup and shoved it toward his father's displeased face. “What important events have you missed?”

Brice didn't give him a chance to reply as he began to pace. “Where were you when I lost my first tooth or the first time I shifted? Oh, who took me on my first hunt? Sure as hell wasn't you.

“What about explaining puberty? Or teaching me how to drive? Didn't see you at either of my college commencements, and I bet you don't give a damn that I received a perfect score on my bar exam. On my first attempt.”

Brice gripped the back of his empty chair. “You had time for Mason's important events. Never mine.”

“Is jealousy what's been eating you all this time?”

“God, no.” Exasperated, Brice wanted to wrap his fingers around his father's neck—not tightly enough to cause physical harm. He'd simply throttle him until he understood. Instead, he threw his hands in the air. “Mason
was
there for me, every single time, when it should've been you. Now he's gone and you still don't get it.”

“Son, calm down.” Gavin stood, his fingers spread wide as the motion of his hands echoed his words.

“Fuck you.” Brice slammed the door on his way out.