Midnight Torment: (Midnight Pack Wolf Shifter Romance - Book 3) Page 2

  “We’ll be back in a couple of hours,” she said instead, gave the sheriff a nod and left the two of them alone.

  “Were you insinuating Gemma is only interested in my brother because she wants her house back?” he asked the sheriff.

  “Of course not.” Cormac could smell the insincerity in his voice. “But townsfolk talk, and everyone thinks things are moving a little too fast between those two girls and your brothers.”

  “Thankfully, it’s none of the townsfolk’s business what two consenting adults are doing … is it?” Cormac looked at his watch. “Is there anything else I can do for you? I have a phone conference in a few minutes and can’t miss it.”

  The sheriff’s spine stiffened, and Cormac waited.

  Here comes the real reason he’s here.

  “Sadly, there is something else,” he began. “A girl has gone missing.” He patted his pockets, made a show of finding something, and drew out a small battered photograph. He unfolded it and handed it to Cormac. “My brother’s girl. She was last seen almost a week ago.”

  Interesting how he didn’t refer to her as his niece, Cormac thought.

  “A week and you’re only looking for her now?” He glanced down at the photograph, already knowing who it would be, yet was still surprised by the heart-shaped face staring back up at him.

  So that’s what she looked like when she wasn’t covered in filth.

  “I don’t want to sound uncaring but …” The sheriff took a deep breath. “She’s always been a bit of a wild child.”

  “Really?” Cormac scanned the picture again. It looked like an organised photoshoot, the type humans used for social media profile pictures or as part of a portfolio. “She doesn’t look like a child.”

  “She’s twenty-one. She has a habit of sneaking away with local boys, but usually returns after a day or two. When she didn’t, my brother asked me to look out for her.”

  Cormac nodded without looking up. The girl in the photograph stared back at him, the set of her mouth suggesting she wasn’t happy about having her picture taken. Her dark eyes seemed filled with untold secrets. With a sigh, he handed the photo back to the sheriff.

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen her.”

  “It was a long shot,” the sheriff shrugged, aiming for a casualness his scent told Cormac he wasn’t feeling. Stuffing the photograph back into his pocket, his hand reappeared holding a small cylindrical object. He tapped the top and Cormac heard a faint click.

  What was that?

  He angled his gaze down, and the sheriff chuckled. “I’m sorry, it’s a new bad habit. It’s like the clicker on a pen top. I quit smoking, so it keeps my fingers busy.” He pressed it again with his thumb.

  Click … click … click.

  Cormac hid a frown. He could smell tobacco on the sheriff’s clothing, see the nicotine stains on his fingers. “If we’re done here? I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with the girl. If you’d like to leave a copy of the photo, I can ask the rest of my family if they’ve seen her and let you know if I hear anything worth sharing.”

  The sheriff nodded and reached back into a pocket, pulling out a creased photocopy of the girl’s image. “I’d appreciate that. My number is on the back.”

  With another press of the clicker in his hand, he ambled back to his cruiser.

  Cormac watched, arms folded across his chest, paper held loosely between his fingertips, until the sheriff reached his car and disappeared down the drive. It hadn’t escaped his notice that the sheriff hadn’t given him the girl’s name.

  Cormac had barely set foot back inside his house when Asher demanded his attention again.

  “Chase needs you in your room,” Asher told him as he trotted down the stairs with Roxie close on his heels. “When I went up to check the door, I heard a noise, so I went inside. I found the girl on the floor. She seemed to be having a fit.”

  “A fit?” Cormac repeated in surprise. “She was fine when I last saw her. Scrawny, dirty, but healthy enough to be angry at me.”

  “Well, she’s not now. I called Roxie and sent her for Chase.”

  Cormac strode up the stairs to his room and threw open the door. He was greeted by the sight of the Pack’s doctor pinning the girl’s wrists to the floor with one hand, while he tried to keep her still long enough to sedate her with the other.

  The girl herself was arching up off the floor, her spine so bent Cormac was sure it was going to snap. Her head shook from side to side, and he caught sight of small white teeth biting into her bottom lip deep enough to draw blood. Her eyes, filled with pain, caught and held his briefly. His wolf stirred restless inside his mind, and then the faintest whisper came to him.

  ~Help us.~

  The reaction from his wolf was immediate. Its presence threw itself against the confines of his mind with a snarl, demanding Cormac take heed of the plea. His eyes zeroed in on the needle hovering above the vein throbbing in the girl’s throat.

  “Chase, wait,” he demanded quietly, causing the other man to freeze and glance back at his Alpha. “I don’t think it’s a fit.”

  He moved closer and lowered himself to his knees on the opposite side from Chase. Reaching out, Cormac gripped the girl’s face between strong fingers and her thrashing seemed to ease a little.

  “Concentrate on me, little wolf,” he coaxed, letting a trickle of Alpha power thread through his voice.

  Her eyelashes fluttered and her lids lifted, showing him pupils so large they had swallowed most of the dark colour of her irises.

  “Good girl. Look at me.” Another pulse of power and she whimpered.

  Carefully, he dragged his thumb across her bottom lip and freed it from between her teeth. Blood welled, and her tongue snaked out to lick it away.

  “Hurts,” she gasped. “Make it stop!” Even in clear agony, Cormac noted with faint amusement, she still made demands.

  “Where does it hurt?”

  She moaned, pain flaring in her eyes and breaking the fragile grip his Alpha status held over her.

  “How long ago did it start?” Cormac glanced over at Chase.

  “As far as I can tell, less than ten minutes ago,” the Pack’s doctor replied.

  “Please!” Her hand came up and caught Cormac’s wrist in a surprisingly strong grip, drawing his attention back down to her. “Make it stop. I won’t fight, I swear,” she panted. “Just make it stop.”

  Cormac’s brows pulled together as he rapidly connected the dots in his mind. “The sheriff knew she was here,” he muttered. “He was fiddling with something. I thought it was a pen, a nervous tic, clicking the top.” As he spoke, he ran his free hand over the girl’s body. “Come on, little one. Where did they put it?” He caught her chin again and forced her face up. “Look at me. Where did they put it?”

  “B-back,” she stuttered.

  Cormac gave an abrupt nod. His eyes flicked down to the needle in Chase’s hand.

  “Okay. Do it now.” He bent lower until his face was millimetres from hers. “Focus on me,” he whispered, and Alpha power settled over the room. “You’re going to sleep for a while. When you wake, the pain will be gone, and we will talk.” While he spoke, Chase slowly and carefully pushed the needle into her arm.

  Fear flashed across her features, and her fingers tightened on his wrist. “Wa-wait! Don’t drug me. I won’t fight … I swear I won’t.” Her words slurred and her fingers loosened, falling to the carpet with a soft thud.

  Cormac stared down at her, his eyes holding hers until her lids fluttered closed. His wolf snarled softly.

  “Mac …” Chase waited for Cormac to look at him. “Who is she?”

  Cormac shook his head. “Someone the Hunters want back.”

  He slid his hands beneath her inert body and lifted her, her arms dropping limply and her head lolling back. A couple of quick steps took him to his bed, and he carefully placed her on it.

  “I thought you didn’t want her in your bed.”

  Cormac paused as he unbuttoned th
e shirt—one of his—she was wearing. “I’m not a complete monster, Chase.” He pulled her arms out of the sleeves, lifted her a little, so he could slide the shirt from beneath her and tossed it to one side. Pursing his lips, he looked down at her still form. He hadn’t realised quite how small she was when she had been spitting at him like a wild cat. “Tiny little thing, isn’t she? I thought she would have at least put some weight on by now.”

  “The food we’ve been sending up has been coming back barely touched. I was thinking about setting up an IV and forcing her to eat that way.” The doctor stepped up beside Cormac. “Why did you strip her?”

  “Weren’t you listening?” Cormac rolled the girl onto her stomach and heard Chase’s sharp intake of breath when he saw the scars crisscrossing her back. “She was whipped,” he supplied softly in explanation, his voice giving no hint of the anger his wolf flooded him with. “At a guess, I’d say she hasn’t been their most compliant female. Pain is an easy method to force good behaviour.” He traced a finger lightly along one of the silvery lines. “The whipping didn’t instil enough fear, though, so they looked for something more effective.” His finger moved downward and hovered over the wound he’d discovered a few days earlier. “An implant, controlled remotely.” Cormac finally lifted his eyes to look at Chase. “Remove it,” he instructed.

  Chase frowned. “How can you be certain there’s an implant?”

  “The timing, the sheriff’s actions.” Cormac bent slightly and inhaled. “The smell.” He tapped gently beside the wound. “This is the freshest mark on her body. It doesn’t match the rest. It’s deeper and more precise—a surgical cut. It’s there, Chase, and I want it removed.”

  “All right. I’ll need to go and get my bag first.”

  “We’ll look into building you a surgery. I get the feeling we’re going to need it.” Cormac waved a hand. “Go. I’ll stay with her.”

  Chase hesitated. “Don’t you have a call scheduled with the other Alphas ... to discuss the list Damien left?”

  “My Pack comes before anything else. Ask Deacon to take it. All he needs to do is inform them he’s emailing all Pack Alphas a copy of the list of names and get them to check on their Pack members.”

  “She’s not Pack.”

  Cormac turned his head, silver eyes flaring. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew this young woman had a part to play in whatever was brewing. “She’s in my Sanctuary, surrounded by my Pack.”

  Chase inclined his head at the finality in Cormac’s words. “Of course. I’ll return as fast as I can.”

  SHE BLINKED, THE WORLD BEYOND HER EYELIDS BLURRY AS SHE FOUGHT AGAINST THE grip unconsciousness still held over her. Slowly, like wading upstream, she found her way, reached toward the voice she could hear whispering inside her head. She blinked again and hissed as the world came into sharp focus and squeezed her eyes shut. The voice fell silent. She swallowed, her throat like sandpaper and immediately something cold was pressed against her lips.

  “Small sips,” a male voice cautioned. When he moved the cup away, she reached for it.

  “Give,” she demanded in a husky rasp.

  “No,” was the blunt response. “You’ll be sick if you drink too much at once.”

  “Give!” she snapped. Her fingers came into contact with soft material and she grasped it, pulled, and gasped as icy water splashed over her chest.

  “Serves you right,” came the dry admonishment. “Next time you’ll do as I tell you.”

  That voice! She’d heard it before … and then it all came flooding back. She was inside the home of a Pack of wolf Shifters—traded one prison for another. And why? Because she’d been foolish enough to listen to the voice in her head and think she could escape from the Hunter Sect she’d been raised in. She should have known it wouldn’t be that simple, especially when she’d seen the Shifter with the silver eyes prowling through the darkness of the gardens. Seeing him had sent a surge of fear and relief through her. Part of her had wanted to stay hidden, the other wanted him to see her—and she had stupidly attracted his attention.

  Stupid female, stupid!

  She felt the burn of tears and blinked rapidly, refusing to let them spill.

  Show no weakness. Weakness makes you prey. Being prey will make you dead.

  Words to live by. Words she’d heard whispered inside her head in the dead of night since she was a child. Words she’d used as an anchor, as proof that there was the possibility of something more.

  She forced herself to open her eyes, and defiantly met the gaze of both males watching over her. The sandy-haired one with the light-brown eyes gave her a gentle smile. He was the Pack’s doctor, she knew. She’d learned that quickly. The other—her eyes moved to him and danced away again uneasily—he was the Pack’s Alpha.

  Of all the Shifters she could have crossed paths with, her luck had sent her across his. She had heard the Hunters talk about him, had crept closer whenever his name had been uttered, listened as each of them bragged about how they would be the one to take him down. And yet, whenever a chance to face him had come, they all found reasons not to be where he was. She chanced another glance at where he sat on the edge of the mattress and found silver eyes staring back at her.

  Cormac waited for her eyes to drop. She wasn’t dominant, and no one could hold his gaze for long without feeling uncomfortable. When she lifted her chin in a silent gesture of stubbornness and refused to lower her lids, he almost … almost … smiled. Instead, he stood and took a step forward, forcing her to either look away or tip her head back to maintain eye contact. It intrigued him when she chose the latter, her head resting back against the headboard, the angle baring her throat.

  Was she even aware of the danger that position put her in?

  Cormac knew she thought she was showing defiance. Maybe she believed standing up to an Alpha wolf would be successful. But by baring her throat to him, the message she was giving him wasn’t one of defiance, but of submission—even if she was unaware of it. Unable to resist, he lifted a hand and ran one finger down the column of her throat, feeling her swallow.

  “I appreciate the offer,” he told her, ignoring the spark that jumped from her skin to his, “but I prefer my bed mates to be a little less … fragrant.”

  “Bed mates? Wh-what?” she croaked out, eyes widening warily.

  “By offering me your throat, you are offering me your body, your submission,” he told her silkily. “You might as well crawl naked into my bed.” He let his eyes slide lazily down her body, covered only by a thin sheet. “Oh, my apologies. You’ve already checked that box.” He did smile then, cool and mocking.

  An angry flush rose over her cheeks and her lids dropped, shielding her expression.

  “Mac?” Chase spoke his name softly, and Cormac turned his head toward his Pack member. Chase kept his eyes lowered, but murmured, “It wasn’t a power play.”

  Cormac didn’t reply. His attention had dropped to watch where she was plucking at the gauze still wrapped around her forearm.

  “Were you truly trying to kill yourself?” he asked. Her fingers froze at his question, and he knew she’d lifted her head to look at him. He purposely kept his eyes focused on her arm. “You must have known you were cutting in the wrong place.”

  She didn’t reply and, after a second, her fingers began to unthread the gauze again.

  “It makes me wonder what your real reason for cutting yourself was. Were you hoping to drive my wolves into a bloodlust? Did you hope to distract me so Damien could leave? Maybe you were hoping he would take you with him?”

  Her fingers jerked, snapping the loose thread and causing the rest of the gauze to pull tight. She hissed.

  “Am I close?” he continued.

  “No.” She slid a finger beneath the gauze, trying to loosen it.

  “Does it itch?” Chase asked. “Why don’t I take the wraps off and check how it’s healing?”

  “No!” She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.

&nbsp
; Cormac watched her silently, intrigued by the control she had over her scent. There had been the slightest hint of panic before she’d wiped it away with an ease a Shifter as young as her shouldn’t have been able to achieve—especially when she was clearly untrained. To have that much control without having ever shifted. Now that was something which raised more questions.

  She muttered something beneath her breath, and the two males traded glances.

  “What did you say?” Chase asked.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” she repeated, cheeks flushed.

  “I’ll go and find Roxie,” Chase told Cormac and walked to the door.

  The girl threw back the sheet and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Cormac said nothing as she rose to her feet, making no effort to conceal her nakedness. A step forward, and she swayed. Cormac’s wolf growled, and he found himself having an internal battle to stop himself from reaching out to catch her. He forced himself to wait while she reached for the bedside table to steady herself.

  She really is a tiny little thing, he mused, shorter even than Isabella. But what she didn’t have in height, she certainly made up for in attitude. He wondered, briefly, what it was about short women and big attitudes—in his experience, they appeared to go hand in hand.

  She threw a look at him, almost as if she knew what he was thinking, and he bit back a smile. The urge faded when she stepped past him, and he caught sight of the scars marring her back again. His wolf growled, louder, demanding they hunt down the person responsible.

  Silently, ignoring the angry pacing of the wolf inside his head, he bent and picked up the shirt from where he’d discarded it on the floor. He waited until she turned, and held it out to her. The girl’s eyes lifted to meet his, then dropped to the shirt in his hand.

  “You want me to cover myself?” she asked, her brows pulling together into a confused frown.

  “Shifters aren’t strangers to naked bodies, but I thought you might be more comfortable if you were clothed.” He wasn’t about to tell her that her scars angered his wolf and unbalanced his control.