Stray (Shifters #1)(65)

Abby stared out the kitchen window as she ate, her expression one of desperate longing. I knew how she felt, like as long as we were still in that house, we weren’t really free. Like Miguel might return at any minute and lock us back up. Like we were stupid for staying when we were free to escape. Every instinct I had, both cat and human, told me to grab her hand and run as far and as fast as I could. But I didn’t, because I’d told Daddy we would wait for the enforcers, and it’s never a good idea to break your word to an Alpha. The only guy I knew who’d done that walked with a permanent limp and wore false teeth. Including his canines.Outside, an engine growled as a vehicle approached the house. My head snapped up. I stared out the window but couldn’t see it yet. My breath caught in my throat as I waited for the car to pass. But it didn’t. It pulled into the driveway.
Twin rectangles of light flashed on the wall, sunlight reflecting off chrome to shine through the window in the front door.
Abby froze, her last bite halfway to her mouth. Her hand shook in terror.
I wanted to look out the window but couldn’t chance exposing myself. I glanced at the clock. Marc was fast, but not that fast. It couldn’t be him. Not yet.
Abby dropped her food on the table. She didn’t even pause when she missed the plate. She stood quickly. Her chair fell over, clattering on the linoleum. She backed slowly toward the living room. Her eyes never left the front door.
My heart pounded. Adrenaline surged through my veins as my body prepared to fight. I wouldn’t let him put his hands on me again. I wouldn’t go back in the cage. Not as long as I was breathing. After that, it wouldn’t matter.
Outside, one car door opened, followed by another. Heavy footsteps thumped up the porch steps. The front door flew open, splintering the rectangles of light into shards of shadow.
Marc called my name.
Relief washed through me like an Arctic wave, extinguishing flames of rage that had flared up especially for Miguel. My arms hung limp at my sides, my fingers tingling. I was numb with shock, frozen in place.
“Faythe?” Marc called again.
“We’re in here.” Abby flew past me into the dining room and threw herself at Marc, hanging from his neck like a Velcro-pawed monkey. He tried to pry her off, but she clung to him, sobbing as if she’d discovered a fresh reserve of tears. Marc glanced at me over her head and motioned for help, but I just watched them. I couldn’t move.
Someone peeled Abby’s arms from Marc’s neck, but I didn’t see who, because I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his. When he was free—Abby now clinging to someone else—he stared at me from across the room.
What? I thought. What is he waiting for? Then I understood. He thought I’d left him. He thought I’d run out on him again without a word of warning, as I’d done five years earlier. And I had. Only this time I’d meant to come back, even if only to explain.
I smiled hesitantly, and he smiled back, his eyes shiny with tears. I didn’t so much see him move as feel the air displaced in his wake. The next moment, I was in his arms, my feet dangling several inches from the floor while he squeezed me hard enough to crack my spine.
He lowered me slowly, watching my eyes as I slid down the front of his body. He was searching for rejection, or even doubt. If he’d seen any, he might have actually given up. He might have finally believed I didn’t love him. It was the opportunity I’d been waiting for. Only I was no longer sure I wanted it. 
The one thing I was sure of was that I wanted to lay my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. So I did. He wrapped his arms around me, and for a long moment neither of us moved.
“How the hell did you get here so fast?” I asked, my battered cheek pressed into his shirt.
“He nearly blew up Dad’s van, that’s how,” Ethan said. I glanced up to see his usual goofy grin, and eyes a shade greener than I remembered. He was happy to see me. It was mutual. “He drove a hundred miles an hour almost all the way from Louisiana.”
I laughed, not a bit surprised.
Marc tilted my face toward his, claiming my attention for himself. He hesitated, waiting for my permission, and I knew what he wanted. I nodded, and he kissed me gently, as if afraid he might hurt me. But when he pulled away, his face was etched with pain, as if I’d hurt him instead.
Marc lifted a strand of my hair, smelling it. Storm clouds rolled across his eyes, dark with the promise of danger to come. His fist clenched around the strand, and I saw the conflict raging within him. He released my hair one finger at a time, very slowly, fighting with each movement to maintain control.
“What did they do to you?” he whispered, low enough that no one else could hear. Low enough that I wasn’t sure whether I’d actually heard him, or read his lips.
“Nothing,” I said as comprehension drenched me, cold and clear. He thought I’d let them have me, that I’d sacrificed my body for my life. He didn’t understand that I would rather have died than give in to them.
In an instant, a single agonizing instant, panic consumed me. It rolled over and around me like the incoming tide, threatening to wash me out into a sea of misery. The sudden irrational fear that he might not want me now left me numb with shock and sick with dread. After all these years of him chasing and me running, he would finally give me up because he couldn’t stand what he thought had happened.
And in that moment I realized I didn’t want him to give up on me. I might not have been ready to give in to him completely, but neither was I ready for him to stop trying.
“Out,” Marc growled at the others, his eyes still holding mine captive.
Ethan stuttered an objection, unwilling to leave me alone with Marc without my permission.
“Out, now,” Marc ordered again, and I nodded at Ethan. Parker ushered everyone onto the sun-bathed back porch, then closed the door with one last questioning glance at us.
I watched Marc, bracing myself for the worst. I expected more anger or disgust, but I saw neither. He wasn’t mad. Not at me, anyway. He was hurt, and trying to hide it, even from himself.
“I can taste him on you.” He leaned over and sniffed me, my face and my neck. He would have gone farther down but I stopped him, pulling him back up to eye level. “I can smell them. Two of them. I’ll kill them, Faythe. Just tell me what they did, and I’ll kill them.”
I stiffened and backed away from him. “You’ll have to stand in line.” His eyes widened in surprise as I continued, “They learned a lesson, Marc. That’s what they did. The one you taste is Eric. He’s downstairs with Ryan, and by my estimate, he stopped breathing over an hour ago. Right around the time I bit through his throat.
“And this one…” I touched the side of my neck, where Miguel had left his distinctive jungle scent. “This one is Miguel, and this is his.” I pulled out the front of my shirt, stiff with dried blood. Well, the shirt was actually Marc’s, but it wasn’t the time to gripe over technicalities. “I’m not done with him yet. But when I am, he’ll bear a striking resemblance to the corpse downstairs. At least from the neck up.” I paused, amused by his astonished expression. “Any more questions?”“Actually, yeah. Several.” I laughed, but he just frowned at me. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” I stepped back into his embrace. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
He tilted my face up. “Are you really okay?”
“Better than ever, actually. Kicking ass is surprisingly therapeutic.”
“I’ve been saying that for years but nobody listens.”
“Welcome to my world,” I said, and he laughed. “I guess we’d better let them in.”
“In a minute.” He kissed me again, and I let him, fighting the urge to cling to him like Abby had. It would have felt so good to let him hold me, to cry while he stroked my hair. But that wouldn’t have been a very good way to start my first assignment. Especially since I was supposed to be in charge.
So instead, I settled for one more kiss, then pushed him away gently. “Go get the guys. Please.”
Marc opened the back door, and Abby came in, followed by my very first team of enforcers. I took note of each as he passed, taking mental inventory of the bodies under my command.
The man who’d rescued Marc from Abby turned out to be her oldest brother, Lucas Wade. He was built a little like a linebacker and a lot like a Mack truck, with shoulders wide enough that he had to enter most rooms sideways. People generally took one look at Lucas and walked the other way, especially if they ran across him at night. In cat form, he was the largest tom I’d ever personally met, weighing in at more than three hundred pounds and measuring over seven feet long, including his tail. While his human form was shorter—just under six and a half feet—Lucas was big enough to make me wonder if Miguel had known about Abby’s brother when he grabbed her. If so, I’d have to seriously rethink describing Miguel as smart.
From the doorway, I glanced around the room, counting my blessings. Along with Marc and Lucas, Daddy had sent Ethan, Owen, and Parker. Except for Jace, all my favorite guys were present and accounted for.
After a quick round of hugs and greetings, I noticed several of the guys watching me closely, as if they wanted to ask me something but weren’t quite sure how to start. “What’s up, boys?” I asked, snagging a fresh can of Coke from the fridge.