Gentry (Wolves of Winter's Edge Book 1)(27)

But there was something more behind the joy and relief that was pulsing through her. Something dark. Something sad.

Confused, she pushed him back so she could look in his eyes when she asked, "What's wrong?"

Gentry looked away and rolled to the side, pulling her with him. He was  quiet for so long, but this was Gentry's way. He didn't give himself  easily, and if he was struggling with the words, it must've been  important.

At last, he sighed and stroked her hair. "I'm not allowed to be with you-"

"I don't care about the rules-"

"I don't either except when it comes to your safety, Blaire. There are  people in this town who would follow through with the punishment.  Werewolves police themselves. My dad chose Odine, a human, and now  he's … " Dead. "What if they found out about her, and that has something  to do with his death? I can't risk the same thing happening to us. To  you."

"But Odine is alive."

"Because she has black magic you wouldn't believe, Blaire. I saw some of  it. I tasted it. Fuck, it nearly crippled me. She pulled the human out  of me when I was Wolf, like it was nothing. She did it to my brothers,  too. If the Bone-Rippers are smart, they won't mess with her. But you  have no defense but me."                       
       
           



       

"But you can protect me."

"And I will. With my life, I'll make sure you're safe. But as much as I  want you here, with me, where I can see you and touch you and make sure  you're okay, Rangeley isn't safe for you. And what kind of man-what kind  of mate-would I be if I kept you here?"

"Don't push me away, Gentry. Don't make me leave. I'm not ready."

"It's not forever. And nothing in me wants to do it except for this  instinct to keep you safe. And right now, keeping you safe means keeping  you away from all that is happening in this town."

Blaire flinched away from him and crossed her arms over her chest like a  shield. "That's not how this is supposed to work. We're supposed to be a  team. You're not supposed to say you love me and then push me away."

Yep, she was angry, but this was unexpected. She was supposed to have  more time here with Gentry. Everything important suddenly felt like it  was right here in Rangeley, and the thought of leaving when Gentry was  headed right for the eye of whatever supernatural storm was brewing made  her want to sink her claws in and stay.

She log-rolled out of bed and landed clumsily on her feet on the worn  wooden floor. It was cold in here, and chills instantly took her body  without Gentry's warmth, so she rushed for the bathroom and turned on  the hot water in the shower.

"What are you doing?" Gentry asked.

"I'm getting ready for a night out on the town, because surely you don't  expect me to leave tonight. It's late, snowy, and Roman broke my  window. I'll freeze and die of frostbite."

Gentry let off a growl in the other room. "If I take you to the Four  Horsemen tonight, will you promise to leave first thing in the morning?"

Hell no, but werewolves could sense lies, so she started singing that  good-girl-gone-bad chorus and stepped into the steaming shower. Blaire  closed her eyes and let the water rush over her hair, but startled when  she felt Gentry's strong arms wrap around her waist. The scary predator  in him made his movements silent.

He gently sucked her earlobe, then murmured, "I know what you're doing."

"Stalling?"

"Mmm hmm."

"I'll go when I'm ready to go."

He huffed a laugh and shook his head against her cheek. "I can make most  people do what I want with a look, and then you come along and tell me  ‘no' on everything."

She rolled her back against him. "Not on everything."

"Will you leave in the morning?" he asked, his tone deadly serious.

With a sigh, Blaire turned in his arms and hugged his waist. For a few  moments, she watched the water droplets racing down the contours of his  muscular chest. She tried to imagine leaving but couldn't wrap her head  around this being one of the last times they shared a moment like this.  "No."





Chapter Sixteen




Blaire was going to be the death of him.

Death from acute stress.

And what could he do? He couldn't force her to leave. Wait, maybe he  could. He could drive her cute, round ass to the airport himself. Nah,  she would jump out at a stop sign. His woman was feisty.

"Motherfucker," he murmured, studying her rental car window. Roman's  handprints had dented it enough that the window pane was now stuck  inside the damn door. Laugh and joke all he wanted, Roman still had the  same temper.

Asher, he barely recognized anymore. Not only was he bigger with a slew  of new ink, he felt different, too. Even more dominant. Even quieter.  Darker. More dangerous, and Gentry couldn't get a read on his thoughts  at any given moment. Asher had one hell of a poker face now. Maybe he  would show up to the Four Horsemen tonight, but probably not, as was  evident from him currently shoving his duffle bag into the bed of his  black-on-black Tundra.

Gentry shoved a piece of cardboard over Blaire's window and bit off a  long piece of duct tape, then began to secure it. The snow was falling  steadily, and the last thing she needed was a pile of the white stuff to  sit in when they took it to the auto-body shop in the morning. He could  fix a lot of things, but this was out of his wheel house. No, not just  this. Rangeley was out of his wheel house. What the fuck was he doing  here? He could rent this place or, hell, even sell it to some small  business guru who would hopefully get it up and running again. And then  he could follow Blaire to her hometown and give it a go at making her  happy. Or if he couldn't manage that-and there were no guarantees  because he'd never paired up before-at the very least, he could keep her  safe. He could watch over her. He would be good at that. He'd trained  his body for war all these years when he'd hunted the wild packs. Sure,  the goal had always been to let as many survive as possible, and he'd  saved a lot of wolves by taking out the problem animals instead of  giving the ranchers free rein to annihilate entire packs, but he'd bled  for that job. And in turn, he'd become more of a monster than his  brothers or the Bone-Rippers realized.                       
       
           



       

But the Bone-Rippers were too uncertain right now for him to feel any  comfort about Blaire being on the same continent with them.

Just like when he'd hunted the wild packs, it was easy to sense the  problem animals. Rhett was top of that list, but who were his allies?  Who had backed his play to take the pack? Gentry by no means had all the  answers yet, and it would be a slow stalk until he had a better  understanding of the new pack dynamics, but culling the bad wolf could  potentially save the rest of the pack. Then he could leave Rangeley and  hope for a life with Blaire without those pestering loose ends tripping  him up.

He couldn't have a future with Blaire until he took care of his past.

And if she wanted to see the good, the bad, and the ugly, as she'd put  it, maybe he should let her stay. Blaire had told him everything Odine  had said while they were in the shower, so he knew without a shadow of a  doubt that Blaire was on the Bone-Rippers' radar. Nothing happened in  this town without the pack knowing about it.

They wouldn't try anything in a public bar, and Blaire was so damn  charming maybe she could sway a few of the pack members into liking her.  Cause some dissention in the ranks. "Stir up the hive" as Odine had put  it. That witch had her reasons for causing trouble with the  Bone-Rippers, and Gentry would keep an eye on that, but his reasons for  creating a buzz were different. He wanted to watch reactions, watch  loyalty lines, see who could be saved, see who needed to be protected,  just like when he hunted the wild wolves that were preying on ranchers'  livestock. Now he was going to hunt Rhett and unearth all the shit he'd  done to steal the throne of the Bone-Rippers, formerly the Striker Pack.  Formerly his father's pack. Formerly a good, town-protecting pack.

The door to Blaire's cabin banged closed, and she jogged down the stairs  looking like a million bucks. Her dark jeans clung to her curves like a  second skin, and she was zipping up her jacket over a sky-blue sweater  that made her eyes look jungle green. She'd smoked up her eyes with dark  make-up and wore her red-gold hair in sexy waves that were long enough  to reach the bottom of those perfect tits of hers. God, he would never  get tired of looking at her, but he had to play it cool. If a woman like  her found out just how obsessed he was, she would run for the hills.

Blaire was tough as nails, and had a mouth to match, but her divorce had  hurt her deeply and made her a little skittish at times, which is why  her declaration that she wasn't leaving him meant so damn much. She'd  buckled her legs against any forward motion the second he'd suggested  her going back to her hometown early. Down to his soul, he respected the  hell out of this woman.