Dark Wolf Unbound (Heart of the Shifter #2)(3)

"He's a murderer." Nana spit on the floor and made the sign of the cross on her chest.

Tears burned in Abby's eyes at the reminder of what she'd lost, but she  pushed them aside, refusing to be sucked into the debilitating grief of  her sister's death. She had to stay focused. There was too much at  stake. She couldn't afford to crumble in a pool of emotions right now.  "I know he is." But she'd also been at the trial, hiding from the press  behind sunglasses and a hat. She'd heard his defense. She'd seen his  torment. She'd listened to his pack mates defend his honor with such  passion that she knew they were speaking from the heart.

No truly evil man could summon such deep, untainted support unless there  was something redeemable about him. Jace was a murderer, yes, but it  was more complicated than that, so much more complicated.

"He's a demon," Nana hissed. "He murdered your sister. He walks on four  legs, and comes to life under the full moon. He's an animal, a creature  destined for damnation since the day he was born, just like all  shifters."

"Not all shifters are evil." But even as she said it, fear rippled down  Abby's spine, and she turned her head to look out the window again.  She'd lived among shifters for most of her life. She knew how deadly  they could be. She'd lived among evil. She'd done her share of it. But  she'd also seen shifters who loved, protected, and treasured their loved  ones …

She swallowed, closing her eyes against the memories she worked so hard  to suppress. Not now, Abby. Not now. She took a deep breath, then opened  her eyes to study Jace. She slipped her fingers between the curtain  panels and parted them just enough so she had an unobstructed view of  him. He was a killer, and all that separated her from him was a pane of  glass that could be shattered easily with one strike of his fist.

"You need his help," Nana said grimly, moving beside her to gaze out the  window. She didn't bother to part the curtain. She just stared through  the yellowed, loosely woven fabric, as if she wanted to keep that  barrier between them.

"What?" Abby looked sharply at her grandmother, unable to stop the surge  of anticipation at the idea of reaching out to him. Something about  Jace called to her. It had ever since she'd seen him limp into the  courtroom, his shoulders slumped, his eyes so lost. "Help for what?"                       
       
           



       

"Ask him to help you find Seth. It's the only way."

"Ask him?" Abby bit her lip, studying Jace's anguished face. His beard  looked like an untamed mess of whiskers he hadn't shaved in days. His  shoulders were hunched. He looked like a man who'd been destroyed, not a  powerful alpha who had done the unthinkable for his pack, again and  again, if the rumors were to be believed. Yet, at the same time, his  body rippled with muscle, and his jaw was hard. He was elemental power,  dragged down by the guilt she knew so well. "He killed Melissa," she  said quietly, testing the truth aloud. "He ripped out her throat." She  bit back tears, trying not to replay the horror of that night.

Nana looked at her, her wise eyes narrowed. "You know how powerful  Grigori is. It takes a shifter of comparable power to stop him. Jace is  that wolf. You must stop Grigori."

"I just..." She tightened her fingers on the curtain as Jace stood up.  He staggered slightly, and she saw his face tighten in pain as he  shifted to put more of his weight onto his injured leg. He began to walk  back toward the house, staring at the window she was standing in, as if  he could see her through the brittle curtain.

Her heart began to pound as he got closer and she could see him more  clearly. Although he was clearly in pain, he moved like a predator,  smoothly, stealthily, his muscles rippling with power. She'd heard the  anguish in his voice through the front door, when he'd been talking to  her grandmother, and then to his friends, trying to get them to shoot  him, but to see it in his eyes as he got closer was heartbreaking. Tears  burned in her own eyes, both for his pain, and for her own. So much  loss.

He walked right up to the window and grabbed the frame, his eyes boring into hers.

She froze, suddenly realizing that he was looking right at her. Somehow,  he'd known she was there, even when he'd been sitting in the woods. He  was bigger than she'd expected, his shoulders nearly as wide as the  window.

She started to step back, but Nana pushed her forward in a swift, rough  shove. Abby crashed into the window, her hands smacking against the  glass. The curtain had parted, giving her a clear view of the man who'd  murdered her sister.

His dark eyes were haunted and empty. His jaw was flexed. His short dark  hair was shiny with the rain, rivulets sliding down his face. "I'm  sorry," he said, his voice easily audible through the glass. "I'm so  fucking sorry."

Her heart turned over at the grief in his voice. He was soaking wet,  dripping with mud and rain, yet he didn't move. He just stood there, on  the other side of the glass, searching her face, waiting for something  from her. Forgiveness? No, she didn't think he wanted that. Peace?

Yes, that was it. He wanted to give her peace.

She flattened her hand against the glass, as if she could reach through  it. He hesitated for a split second, and then he set his hand against  the pane, pressing his palm to hers, with only the thin glass between  them.

The heat from his palm surged through the glass, making it feel as  though she was touching his skin. Awareness prickled through her, an  awareness that came from deep in her belly and surged through her. She  leaned forward, instinctively closing the distance between them, needing  to be closer to him.

Behind her, her grandmother swore, and then she reached past Abby and  touched the glass where Jace's hand was. "Son of a bitch," her  grandmother muttered. "He's not like the others. He's different. That  piece of shit Grigori broke him. He's the one, Abby. You need him. He  needs you." Her gnarled fingers curled into a fist as she pulled back.  "He's the one who can end it," she whispered.

"What? He can't help me," Abby whispered, watching as he raised his  other hand and placed it on the glass. She mimicked his move, placing  her other hand so it was directly aligned with his, so both their hands  were pressed against each other. "He's too broken. And he's a murderer.  You said it yourself." But even as she said it, she moved closer to the  window, to him, to the sheer power he generated. She felt like a moth  drawn to a bright light that could either burn her up, or give her the  warmth she needed to survive.

"He is a murderer, but he is also more. I can feel it pouring from him. I know you do as well."

"Is he?" Abby searched the face of the man before her. The rain was  hammering against the glass, creating streaks that made it more  difficult to see him. Her own breath was beginning to fog up the glass,  obscuring her view of him. She wiped the fog away, her palm squeaking  against the cold glass.

He met her gaze, and her heart seemed to shatter at the depth of pain in  his eyes. She knew that pain, because she lived with it every day.  "Jace," she whispered, her fingers curving against the glass, as if she  could entangle her fingers with his, as if she could somehow relieve  both their pain by connecting physically with him. But it was only glass  beneath her hand, not his skin. She closed her eyes, unable to bear the  memories that he brought back to her.                       
       
           



       

"He's leaving," Nana said, her gnarled fingers digging into Abby's arm.  "Don't let him go. Without him, you can't fulfill your promise to  Melissa to find her son. Seth will be lost forever, if you don't get  this man to help you. You know what Grigori will do to Seth if you don't  find him first. Melissa died trying to protect her son, and it's up to  you now. He's your nephew, your godson, and he's counting on you."

Abby opened her eyes, and with a twist of regret and an inexplicable  sense of loss, she saw that Jace had turned away. He was walking back to  his car, flanked by his two pack mates, the men who'd testified on his  behalf at the murder trial, gaining him exoneration. He'd murdered her  sister. He'd murdered her sister. Her grandmother despised him … but at  the same time, she was calling him Abby's only hope.

How could she go to him? How could she work with him? How could she  trust him? How could she trust herself around him? She was the reason he  was suffering. She was the one who'd broken him. She was the one he  should despise. She was the one who represented the greatest risk to  him.