Dark Wolf Unbound (Heart of the Shifter #2)(6)

But this was the daughter of a demon who walked the earth in the form of a man-wolf shifter.

How innocent was she? How innocent could she be? "Do you know the song?"  he asked suddenly. He'd been walking down an alley innocently enough  when he'd heard that song drifting through an open window. For a split  second, he'd been consumed by its beauty, and then it had torn into him,  ripping apart his humanity, and igniting a ravenous, killing rage that  ripped his wolf from his control, forcing him to shift … and to kill. That  same song had turned countless wolves into Grigori's murderous pack. It  was the darkest evil, rippling with power. If Abby had grown up in  Grigori's pack, she might have access to it. "Do you know the words and  the melody?"                       
       
           



       

Her cheeks turned red. "I do."

He tensed. "So, you could start singing it at any moment and force me to shift?"

Her eyes widened, and her cheeks turned even redder. "I wouldn't do that-"

"But you could." He believed her that she wouldn't do it on purpose.  There was a purity to her soul that he felt deep in his bones. He'd  never been wrong about a person, and he wasn't worried he was wrong now.  But if she had the capacity to turn that song on him … hell. It was a  tremendous risk to even be standing near her.

She sighed, but she didn't look away. She met his gaze, and nodded, unwilling to hide the truth from him. "Yes."

"Jesus." He turned away, running his hands through his hair. He'd been  living in terror that the song running through his subconscious would  force him to shift, and now, here was a woman who could control him with  just a whisper. With a few words, she could turn him into a living  nightmare over which he had no control.

He realized his hands were shaking, and he shoved them in his pockets to  hide his weakness. His index finger hit the silver spheres, and he  swore, jerking his hand back when it started to burn.

"Jace!" She grabbed his arm, and he froze, unwilling to turn around to  face her. "I'm not like him. My mother died trying to protect us from  him. He killed my mother, and he had my sister killed. I despise  everything he stands for, including that song. He killed everyone who  matters to me." Her voice started to break, and tears swam in her green  eyes. "He has my nephew. I have to get him back, Jace. Please."

He steeled himself to her plea, even though her desperation wrenched a  part of his soul that he fought so hard to protect. The stakes were too  high. He couldn't afford to have emotion interfere. Instead, he replayed  that song in his head, the one that had haunted him for weeks,  comparing it to her voice. As he did so, a slow burn of dread rose  inside him. "Was that your voice that I heard singing it? Were you the  one singing it?"

Stark anguish flashed across her face, giving him his answer.

He stepped back, horrified. "You did that? To your own sister? You had me kill her?"

"No!" She reached for him, but he stepped to the right, avoiding her.  Instead, she fell to her knees, tears swimming in her eyes. "That was a  recording of my voice. I wasn't even there. I just … " She shook her head.  "I didn't know my voice could do that, until it was too late. Once  Grigori found out, it was too late." She spread her hands, palms up,  indicating helplessness. "My own voice killed my sister," she whispered.  "It's my fault, Jace. My fault."

Her anguish pierced his shields, and he went down to his knees in front  of her. He took her hands, which were ice cold in his. "It's not your  fault. He's the murderer, not you." He pressed her hands between his  palms, using his shifter heat to warm them. "He wants you, doesn't he?"  he asked softly. "You're his weapon. He doesn't want Seth. It's you."

She shook her head. "He doesn't need me anymore. He has my voice  recorded. It's Seth, he wants, because Seth is his-" She stopped,  cutting herself off.

She didn't need to finish the sentence. He'd already figured it out. "Seth is his grandson."

At her nod, the enormity of the situation pressed down upon him. He was  being asked to go rescue Grigori's grandson? From Grigori himself? With  the woman whose voice could turn him into a murderer? What the fuck?

He wrapped her hands up in his as he fought to process it. He owed Abby  and Melissa, but at the same time, the situation was incredibly  volatile, fraught with obstacles that risked more innocent deaths. The  worst fucking thing he'd done in his life was murder Melissa Stevens,  and if he went after Grigori with Abby, he was risking it all again, and  so much more.

Abby was with him. She would be his nearest target if he heard the song  again, and he had no doubt that Grigori wouldn't hesitate to turn him  against Abby, if he decided he didn't need her.

He looked into her desperate green eyes, so full of guilt and  self-recrimination, and something inside him roared in response to her  vulnerability. He slid his hand along her jaw, tracing the curves of her  neck. He needed to help her. He needed to offer her every resource at  his disposal … but at the same time, he was bound by what was left of his  moral code to protect her from himself.

"Jace?"

He cupped the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in the soft tresses of her hair. "No."

Her face fell, wrenching at his gut. "But-"

"No." He dropped his hand and stood up. "I'm so sorry, Abby. I would do  anything for you, except risk your life." Leaving her kneeling in the  mud, he forced himself to turn away from her and walked back toward the  truck, where Cash and Drake were waiting. "Let's go." He gestured for  Cash to move aside so he could open the door, but the shifter didn't  move.                       
       
           



       

"You have to help her," Cash said. "You need to get that kid away from Grigori."

He knew Cash was right, but what the hell? The stakes were too high.  "How do I even know what's true and what's not? She could be working for  him. I could be walking right into a fucking trap." He didn't want to  admit the truth, that he might kill her. He'd led his pack by example,  by making them believe that every one of them was stronger than the base  instincts of their wolves. It was brutal to have descended into a hell  that he'd refused to acknowledge was even real.

"You can scent deceit better than anyone," Cash said. "What did she smell like?"

The faint scent of violet on a summer day brushed through his mind. "She  smelled like warm sunshine and those little purple flowers that come  only in the spring," he snapped, blurting it out before he had time to  process it. When's Cash's eyes widened in surprise, Jace ground his jaw  and glared at him, sort of horrified by what he'd just blurted. Sunshine  and flowers? Seriously? She was messing with him, in more ways that he  could deal with right now. "Back off, Cash."

"We'll go with you," Cash said. "We'll guard you from her, and we'll protect her from you."

"Yeah, we'll sit between you so there's no hanky-panky," Drake added, grinning. "It'll be like having a chaperone."

"Hanky-panky? What are you, twelve?" The thought of Drake sitting  between him and Abby made anger shift inside Jace. He didn't like the  idea of the other wolf being next to her. "You can't come," he said,  dismissing the idea immediately. "The pack needs you both. We can't  leave it unprotected in case Grigori returns."

"Cash can handle the pack. I'll go with you," Drake said. "I won't let you kill her, I swear."

"I can take care of myself," Abby interrupted. There was an audible  click, and Jace felt the cold steel of a gun against the back of his  neck.

He spun around to find Abby less than a foot away, her gun now pressed  to his forehead. "Silver bullets," she said softly. "If you try to kill  me, I will take you down." She held up another gun. "This one's for you.  If I start to sing, you can kill me."

Cash snorted. "This feels like a safe, supportive partnership with all the makings of a successful pairing."

But Jace didn't laugh. He stared into Abby's unflinching green eyes, and  something inside him seemed to settle. She was fully prepared to shoot  him, and she was also willing to give him the power to silence her if  she started to sing.

"You get it," he said quietly, shocked to realize exactly how deeply  entrenched his fear of being forced to shift and kill again was. He  could not allow his wolf to kill again. The taste for blood was too  intrinsic to the wolf, and the only way to maintain control over it was  to never allow it to taste the freedom. His wolf had tasted it once, and  now it was ready for more. More death. More slaughter. More merciless  killing. If she started to sing, he would have only a split second to  react before he would lose control. If he had a gun, that split second  would be long enough. But could he shoot her? Was that any better than  letting his wolf slaughter someone? Death of an innocent was death, no  matter whether it was by a gun or his own slathering jaws.