Chapter 10

“Just once it would be nice to hear, ‘You’ve got a month, Wadim. Take your time, Wadim.’ But no, it’s always, ‘twenty-four hours, Wadim, fifteen minutes, Wadim, figure out how to save the world right this second, Wadim.’ It’s like they think I just have the information stored in my butt or something. ‘What’s that, Peri? You need the entire history of the vampire/werewolf conflict in fifteen minutes? No problem, just pass me that laxative and I’ll be back before you know it.’ My next shirt needs to say, Before you ask, here’s your answer, right out of my ass! Picture of a donkey wouldn’t hurt.” ~Wadim


At some point over the last few hours, someone had snuck into the archives and poured sand into his eyes. Wadim was sure of it. The multiple monitors in front of him were beginning to merge blurring into one big blob of unhelpful information. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes, hoping to chase away the sleep that kept threatening to overtake him. He was sure that Peri would finally make good on her threats to make a wolf-skin rug out of him if she came in and found him drooling on his keyboard. When that failed, he stood up and started doing jumping jacks, trying to get his blood pumping again. He made it to four hundred and fifty before he finally felt alert enough to sit back down and refocus.
His fingers worked diligently across the keyboard as he searched through the many archives that were his own personal kingdom. Many dated back hundreds of years, and, like Caesar at the height of the Roman empire, he wasn’t sure exactly how vast his kingdom was. There was simply too much ground to cover.
Tonight, however, he was focusing his efforts on a period of time stretching from the nineteenth century until the present day. Oceanside was on the east side of the continent, the first place to be settled by Europeans. Wadim hoped that he might save himself some time by narrowing his search to the early part of American history. Perhaps, some wolves had come over with the Pilgrims or other early explorers. If not, he’d have to delve into the history of the Native Americans…that would be like finding a needle in a needle-colored haystack.
“Blah, blah, blah, blah,” he droned as his finger hit the down arrow on the keyboard and the words scrolled up on the screen. He found nothing and his eyes were already starting to blur again.
“Nothing, nothing, noth—. Wait.” He paused and leaned forward as he backed his cursor up until he saw the sentence that had caught his eye.
The Missouri pack was established in 1850, but it did not grow strong in numbers until the early twentieth century. It was at that time that Tyler Reed took over the Alpha position. Reed challenged the previous Alpha, Robert O’Malley, who had become power hungry and dominant to the extent of being abusive to those in his care. Reed won the challenge and the pack thrived under his leadership, reporting no significant problems for decades. The peace lasted until the early 1900s. During that time, an uprising occurred, led by a group of disgruntled supernaturals. The troublemakers were believed to be a collection of individuals representing several supernatural races that resented hiding their true nature while in the human realm. These individuals believed that their power and magic made them superior to the human race, and they sought to rule the human realm themselves. These ideas began to spread throughout the werewolf packs. Many wolves left their packs during this period. Some were never heard from again.
The Missouri pack was one in which the rebel ideas seemed to hit particularly hard. Many of Reed’s pack mates were influenced by those seeking to overthrow the humans. Reed learned later that this group had given itself the name, The Order of the Burning Claw. While some believed that Reed should have dealt with these wolves more severely, he was a strong and just Alpha. He, therefore, gave the wolves who’d been swayed by the Order’s teachings a choice. They could renounce those teachings, be forgiven, and stay and live as part of the pack. Alternatively, they could leave the pack and serve the Order, but they could not do both.
Four wolves chose to leave the Missouri pack: Jericho McGregger, Cross Wilmington, Evie McGregger, cousin of Jericho, and Isa McGregger, also a cousin of Jericho. Records indicate that the two females traveled to America from Ireland, adopting the Missouri pack as their own. Jericho, however, was born in North America.
Since leaving the Missouri pack, the four wolves have been seen only sparingly, but always together. It appears that they have chosen to remain rogue, never settling in one place for an extended period of time. A few attempts by American Alphas have been made to find the wolves and bring them under pack law. Mysteriously, however, each attempt has met with failure as the wolves have never been located by any Alpha searching for them. The last known sighting of any of the wolves was in Oceanside, South Carolina.
The mate status of the group is unknown. However, it was suspected that Jericho lost his true mate before the Blood Rites could be completed. The four have—’
“Have what?” Wadim growled as he glared at the unfinished sentence. He tried scrolling to the next page but, apparently, the remaining part of the entry was lost. The next entry had nothing to do with Jericho and his little pack.
“What the hell? What happened to the rest of the record?” Wadim had found, in his years of acting as the pack historian, that his ancestors had not always been as diligent or detailed as they should have been. This really made him want to dig up their bones and gnaw on them a bit.
What he found would have to be enough. At least they had names of the douche bags. Okay, so maybe they weren’t douche bags anymore, who knows? But if they had anything to do with Sally’s disappearance, then they were definitely still douche bags—and soon to be dead douche bags when Costin found out.
Glancing at his watch, he saw, to his pleasure, that he would actually get some sleep tonight. “Thank you, Great Luna,” he mumbled as he stumbled to his room and crashed onto the bed, clothes, shoes, and all. He never gave it a second thought that he hadn’t called anyone, not even his Alpha about what he’d found. The exhaustion and stress, and something else he couldn’t put his finger on had stripped him of any coherent thoughts. All he could think was sleep, he needed sleep…and that something else he couldn’t put his finger on.



Sally’s most recent headache was the worst yet. She was pretty sure that, at any moment, her brain was going to turn to mush and ooze out of her ears. The pressure was intense and nothing she did eased the pain in the slightest. She’d tried everything. She’d taken every over-the-counter pain medication, sinus medication, and cold medication that the local pharmacy had to offer. Heck, she’d even rubbed pain reliever gel on her forehead and neck. All that had done was make her forehead and neck burn—though the new pain had taken her mind off the headache, if only for a few moments.
Sally squeezed her eyes tightly shut, while she continued to wipe down the bar, trying to will the pain away. She knew that she was going to have to go see a doctor soon if something didn’t change in a hurry, not that she had health insurance or anything. Frustrated by this thought, she huffed and gripped the towel tighter. Hands suddenly rested on her hips and pulled her back against a firm chest.
Suddenly, the pain in her head throbbed even more. Something about this action, being pulled against a tall, strong body, felt so intimately familiar to her. And though Jericho had done this more times than she could count, she knew that the hands she was remembering did not belong to him. It was like someone in her past, someone long forgotten, had once done the very same thing. That was impossible, of course. She’d never been in a serious relationship before Jericho—not that they were planning nuptials or anything. She wasn’t actually sure how serious they were, or how serious she wanted them to be for that matter. But he certainly seemed to want to take things further and he was intense. She found it terribly difficult to disagree with him.
“You okay?” Jericho asked, his breath warm against her skin.
“Headache,” she murmured.
“Maybe the headaches are because of your hair. I mean…it’s beautiful…don’t get me wrong, but it’s long and thick. I’ve heard my cousins complain about their hair being heavy, causing their head to hurt at the end of the day,” Jericho said, resting his chin on her shoulder so his mouth was next to her ear. “I love it, but it wouldn’t change how appealing you are if you wanted to cut it. You know, just to see if that helps.”
His logic did make sense. Her hair was long and it was thick. She had gotten headaches in the past if she kept it up in a ponytail too long. Maybe it was time to get a trim.
“I guess I could give it a try,” Sally agreed. “It will grow back if I don’t like it.”
“Why don’t you go right now? While we’re slow?”
“Will Cross be okay with that?” she asked, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.
“I’ll deal with Cross,” Jericho told her as if he was the boss and not the other way around. Then again, Sally had begun to suspect that the two men had a relationship that Sally didn’t understand. She’d noticed that occasionally Jericho gave Cross this…look. It was a look that seemed to put the other man in his place. It gave Sally the impression that Jericho was actually the one calling the shots, and Cross was just some kind of figurehead. She made a mental note to ask Jericho about it later.
“Alright.” Sally stepped out of his hold and untied her apron, folded it, and tucked it under the counter. She grabbed her purse and turned to tell Jericho goodbye, and she had to back up to keep from smacking into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling on her rear and tugged her close to him.
Jericho walked her backward until she was trapped up against the counter. His eyes were intent upon hers as he stared down at her. Moments like these were becoming more and more frequent. Sally was sure that he felt more strongly about her than she did him, and she didn’t know how to handle these situations. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she definitely needed some space.
One of his hands remained on her hip, while the other rose and pushed her long hair away from her neck so that he could wrap his hand gently around it. Sally had come to realize that Jericho enjoyed dominating her. Maybe not in a weird freaky way, but he liked having her in a submissive position, like holding his hand against her neck so that he could control its movement.
He tilted her head back and slowly leaned down. His eyes continued to hold hers and his warm breath blew across her face as he got closer. Finally, after what seemed like an hour instead of mere seconds, he pressed his firm lips to hers. It started out slowly, as his kisses often did, and then progressed as his passion grew. He pressed closer to her, wrapping his arm fully around her waist. His body was hard under her hands while hers yielded to him, even though she had huge reservations about allowing him so much access to her.
She didn’t hesitate because he wasn’t a good kisser or because his touch wasn’t also very nice. But every time he looked at her seductively, touched her, kissed her, or spoke things in her ear that made her blush, she felt as though she was betraying someone—someone very important to her. She tried to search her memories for any reason as to why she was feeling this way, but she was still blank on anything that happened before her parents’ deaths. Not only that, every time she tried hard to remember past that point, she’d get these sharp, stabbing pains in her head and that was enough to keep her from trying very often. So, instead, she continued to date Jericho and tried her best to keep the physicality of their relationship to a minimum. He didn’t make it easy. True, he might not be her soulmate or whatever, but she was still female and he knew exactly how to kiss and touch a female.
When his hand slipped up the back of her shirt and his warm flesh met hers, he groaned. Warning bells went off in Sally’s head. Too far, they yelled at her. She quickly pulled away and smiled, shyly attempting to cover up her rejection.
“I better go before it gets busy,” she said as she slipped from his hold, effectively moving his hand away from her flesh.
He smiled at her and nodded. “I’ll see you later. Be careful.”
She nodded back and then trotted out. Once outside on the sidewalk, she let go of the breath she’d been holding. What was she going to do? A teeny part of her liked Jericho. She didn’t know if she could say it was necessarily in a romantic way, but she liked his personality and his playfulness. He reminded her of someone else, but she couldn’t put a finger on whom. I must be thinking of some celebrity, she thought to herself.
Sally slipped her phone from her back pocket and pulled up her map application. She typed in ‘nearest hair salon’ and waited for the list to pop up. She picked the closest one within walking distance and started walking, attempting to clear her mind of Jericho and all the worries that came with him. At that moment, she was just Sally, a young, single woman with her whole life ahead of her. She wasn’t going to let fear, indecision, and worry rule her. Just as this proclamation was made, she stepped up to the hair salon to which her phone had directed her. She glanced at the name, ‘Taming the Mane.’ She chuckled to herself; at least they were attempting to be original.
She opened the door and stepped in. A cute girl sporting black tips at the end of her blonde locks looked up and smiled widely at her. Sally liked the extreme contrast in the girl’s hair. She liked how it seemed to make the girl stand out and somehow gave her confidence.
“How can we help you?” Missy, Sally realized as she looked at the girl’s nametag, asked her.
“I want to cut my hair and do something fun. It’s been long for as long as I can remember and I think it’s time for a change,” Sally told her, feeling excitement bubbling up inside of her.
“How short?” Missy asked her.
Sally looked around at the style magazines laying on the waiting room coffee table and one caught her eye. She reached down and picked up one bearing a brunette on the cover with chin-length hair, cut at a dramatic angle, shorter in the back, gradually getting longer in the front. It framed her face and gave her a sassy look.
“This,” Sally said and pointed at the picture. “And I think I’d like some fun highlights too.”
Missy grinned ear to ear. “We can take care of that and you are going to love it.”



Decebel ran his fingers through his mate’s long hair, loving the way it felt as it fell around him onto his chest and stomach. It was late at night, actually early morning. He’d had to go and drag her from the library and the intense, not to mention, explicit conversation that had been ongoing with Jacque, Bethany, and her. As usual, he’d thrown her over his shoulder and smacked her backside while telling her to behave, ignoring her kicking, slapping, and tongue lashing. It wasn’t the tongue lashing he had wanted from her. Just another day in the life of being mated to Jennifer. He grinned to himself because he loved it.
“What are you feeling so smug about?” Her sleepy, sexy voice filled the quiet room.
He opened up the bond, giving her access to his thoughts. He loved the way she got irritated and interested at the same time.
“Feeling feisty, Mate?”
She smacked his chest. “If I am, it’s only because I spent several hours explaining the intimate mechanics of sexual intercourse to Bethany. How’s a girl not supposed to get feisty, as you call it, while looking at pictures that explain the act of making love.”
“Pictures?” he asked his brow raising.
“No, you cannot see them,” she growled.
“Why’d you get to see them?”
“It was for educational purposes.”
Decebel moved with inhuman speed and flipped his mate onto her back, hovering over her. “Well then, by all means, educate me Mrs. Anghelescu,” he purred.
Jennifer shoved at his shoulders, attempting to push him off of her. It was cute, really. He just stared at her, the heat in his gaze making her squirm.
“Not now, we need to talk.”
He did not like that answer at all. We need to talk is code for sit, stay, and get your ass chewed out.
“I think I like my idea better,” he said using the bond to persuade her.
She growled at him and slammed her end of the bond shut. He hated when she did that. It was painful to be cut off from her.
“Jennifer,” he snarled.
His mate snarled right back and seven hells if it didn’t just make him want her more. Why was she being difficult? She never turned him away. Never. Yes, he was a blessed son-of-a-wolf.
“We. Need. To Talk,” she said again slowly, putting the emphasis on each word as if he wasn’t capable of understanding her.
Decebel knew that look. That was the look that said there is nothing on this earth or in any other realm that will change my mind, so change yours or die. He groaned and rolled off of her. He really didn’t want to.
“I didn’t say you had to move,” she grumbled. “I just said we needed to talk.”
“I can’t lay on top of you and just talk. No male could lay on top of his woman’s body and just talk. It’s an unspoken rule. If she’s underneath you, then it’s go time.”
She snorted at him. “It’s go time?” The words came out in a laugh.
“You say stuff like that all the time.”
“Yeah, but coming from me it’s awesome. Coming from you it’s like a medieval Romanian warrior attempting to use twenty-first-century military lingo. Sort of like a bear attempting to poop in a toilet and not in the woods.”
Decebel shook his head as he chuckled. “Only you would say something like ‘a bear attempting to poop in a toilet’ and not think that it was a strange thing to say.”
“It’s why you lurv me, babe.” She winked at him. “Now, quit distracting me. We need to talk.”
He let out a sigh. “What’d I do this time?”
Her brow drew together and her lips pursed. “What?” Realizing what he was thinking, she shook her head and waved him off. “No, no. You aren’t in trouble this time—at least not yet. But the day is still young, so there’s hope for you yet. No, we need to talk about Drake and Bethany.”
Decebel almost facepalmed. If he had to deal with one more territorial, out of control wolf, he just might kill them all and be done with it. “What’d he do this time?”
“Well…” Jennifer began.
Decebel settled back against his pillow. Whenever she started a sentence with ‘well,’ it meant that whatever she was going to say wasn’t going to be quick.
“Bethany and Drake got into an argument because he won’t touch her and she wants him to touch her. But he’s being this chivalrous butthead about it and making decisions for her.”
“He’s protecting her, as is his right,” Decebel interrupted.
She snapped her fingers at him. “Uh-uh, buddy. You keep those beautiful lips shut. You can say your peace after I’ve told you everything.”
“Fine,” he huffed.
“Bethany is eighteen. No, she isn’t a normal eighteen-year-old, but she’s still an adult. She’s in her right mind and has every right to make decisions for herself.”
“Even if those decisions could be harmful?”
This time Jennifer slapped a hand over his mouth. “Shut. It.”
She waited a couple of minutes before finally removing her hand and continuing. Decebel wouldn’t have minded if she had left her hand there. He could have given it a few licks and let his wolf enjoy her taste. His wolf was wicked crazy about their mate and loved licking her. And he was pretty sure that any other female besides his would be creeped out by that.
“He told her…well actually, he yelled at her that she didn’t even know what happened in a relationship besides kissing. She said something…I can’t remember exactly what… and he threw a lamp at the wall.”
Decebel started to sit up. “He threw something,” he growled.
Jennifer pushed on his chest. “Not at her. I’ve thrown crap when I get pissed at you.”
“You throw it at me” he pointed out.
“Yeah, because a lamp wouldn’t hurt you. You’d hurt the lamp, so it’s not the same. The point is, he wasn’t aiming for her, he was just reacting. Oh, wait, now I think I remember what she said. She might have asked him if—maybe, just maybe—she should perhaps seek out a different male—someone that would be willing to teach her the things that Drake wouldn’t. I think that might have been what set him off,” she finished, raising her eyebrows, pretending to seriously consider the situation.
“She said she’d go to another male? In his presence? To him?”
Jennifer scrunched up her face. “See, I feel like those are the same question. And I’ve already answered that in my original statement. So…we’re moving on.”
Decebel reached over and laid a hand on his mate’s thigh, stopping her words. “You know what we fear most, Jennifer. You know what we endured in the In Between. Threatening to be with another male, Jennifer? That is enough to drive a wolf to do desperate things, especially one that is already barely holding it together. He might do anything in order to prevent his mate from carrying out her threat.”
“Desperate?” she asked. “Are we talking, ‘gets on his knees and grovels desperate, or take out every available male in a ten-mile radius,’ desperate?”
“Option two,” Decebel answered his voice rough with anger.
“Wow. I keep saying you guys are off-the-charts psycho and you just keep proving me right. It’s like you’re afraid to disappoint me.”
“What happened after the lamp?” he pressed.
Jennifer bit her bottom lip as she looked up at him. “I’ve changed my mind. Now that I think about it, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to tell you,” she said, the words coming out slowly.
His wolf perked up at the challenge and he knew his eyes were glowing as he stared back at her. “Why. Not.”
“It will hit too close to home. You know what,” she said, suddenly sitting up and reaching for the hem of her t-shirt. “I think your idea is better, let’s go with that. You can just climb back on over here and show me this whole ‘can’t lay on top of your female and just talk stuff.’ ”
He reached over and stopped her from pulling her shirt up any further up. It was already high enough to reveal her creamy stomach and that was painfully tempting.
“Do not try to distract me, Jennifer. Tell me.”
“But my distractions are always so much fun and often involve removing clothing. Remember how much you like me to remove clothing?”
“Not happening, female. Now answer the question.”
“Ugh!” she groaned and threw herself back in the bed. “Damn stubborn, furball. Fine,” she snapped at him. “She told him that if he didn’t want to touch her, then he’d lost the right to. She forbade him to touch her and told him that his touch was…unwanted.”
Decebel closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How did he take that?”
“Not good, but she doesn’t know if he started throwing things because she left.”
“To meet with you and Jacque in the library?”
“Yep.”
“Where is Drake now?”
“I don’t know. I’m not Drake’s keeper. Bethany isn’t running through the halls screaming, so he must not be chasing her like a rabid wolf, which is what I would have expected. Maybe he came to his senses and they’re all up in each other’s fur.”
“Does she understand what she’s done by telling him that?”
“Well, she does now,” Jen drawled. “We enlightened her to all things pack, magic, male, and bedroom. You name it, we covered it.”
“Why does that scare me?” Decebel narrowed his eyes on her.
“Because you know how my wicked mind works. You know my diabolical plan to turn Bethany into a sex kitten—though she’s a wolf, so that doesn’t make much sense, but sex puppy sounds like some weird fetish, so we’re going with sex kitten. She will be my greatest achievement yet.”
“What about your daughter,” he asked dryly.
“Right,” she said and then dramatically reiterated. “Bethany will be my second greatest achievement yet.”
“What about me?”
“Babe, you aren’t an achievement. You’re the booty from a successful plunder.”
And that did it. Decebel threw his head back and laughed. “You’re saying you plundered me?”
“Regularly,” she nodded. “A good woman plunders her male frequently to keep him operating at maximum efficiency. It’s in the handbook.”
“What handbook?”
She grinned and winked. “The one I’m writing.”
Decebel smirked at her and started to reach for his mate just as his cell phone rang. He frowned at the device as though it was the phones fault he’d been interrupted. And maybe it sort of was. But if someone was calling that early, then it was important. He looked at the screen and let out a low growl. This wasn’t going to be good.
“Costin?”