The Keeping(133)

Ryne tightened his lips. The throes of passion; there hadn’t been enough of that. Twice he’d taken her; both times had been hurried, unexpected. How he longed to have the chance for a slow drawn out mating. A chance to explore every inch of her body, to taste her, to have her crying out in need for the relief only he could give. He’d bury himself between her thighs and sink his teeth into her...

That thought brought him up short. A blood bond was out of the question. Mating as well. He didn’t mate; he had sex. Mating implied something permanent and he couldn’t see a city dwelling, coffee swilling reporter type settling down in Stump River. Not that he planned on asking her to, of course.

Ryne shifted in his seat. Hell! Who was he trying to convince here? He was lying to himself. He knew it. The fear that had gripped him since finding Lucy was more than just fear of the Keeping. It was fear for Melody, for her well-being. He grimaced. Admitting the truth to himself was probably a mistake; it would only make things harder in the end.

Sighing heavily, he noted his surroundings. They’d left the city core behind some time ago. Houses were spread farther apart and situated on expansive lawns. He checked a road sign as they drove past; almost there. A wooded area was coming up to the right. It seemed as good a place as any. He signalled for the driver to pull over.

“This isn’t the address you wanted.” The driver commented and glanced back at him through the rear-view mirror. “Greyson estate is five miles up the road. I’ve driven past it before, but never gone through the gates. Apparently it’s real showy. You know that guy?”

Ryne grunted in a non-committal way and handed over some money, choosing to ignore the man’s question.

“Right. None of my business. I’m just paid to drive.” The man tucked the money away and shrugged. Once Ryne was out of the vehicle, he drove off without a backward glance.

Ryne watched until the cab was out of sight, thinking that in Stump River he’d have been questioned to death about his motives. Big cities did have their advantages after all, he thought wryly as he stepped into the woods. Double checking that no one was about, he changed into his wolf form.

His padded feet made minimal noise as he ran through the small grouping of trees that constituted a ‘woods’ in city terms. By Stump River standards it was barely worth mentioning, but nonetheless, Ryne was thankful for the cover it provided. Daniel’s research showed the Greyson estate was walled on three sides; the fourth was comprised of this long narrow strip of trees. Ryne was assuming there would be some type of alarm or motion sensor along the perimeter, but his animal form should be able to slip through undetected.

The trees were beginning to thin when his nose picked up a familiar scent. His wolf wanted to sing out with joy, but Ryne forced himself to be silent. To the best of his knowledge the sound of a wolf howling wasn’t common in Chicago and he didn’t want to alert anyone who might be about. He inhaled deeply, revelling in the way Melody’s scent wrapped itself around him. It made his heart beat faster, his blood rush through his veins, bringing his body to life.

Slowing his pace, he tried to pinpoint the exact direction from which the scent was coming. It was a windy day. He hated the wind, the way it made the scents swirl around. His nostrils flared as he tested the air once again sorting, dismissing... There! It was coming from a structure about half a mile away. It appeared to be an abandoned shed, almost invisible due to being covered in vines and surrounded by overgrown shrubbery. Ryne was certain she was in there, but...he analyzed the air again. She wasn’t alone. There was someone else... The stench of the male was unforgettable. A low growl rumbled up from his chest.

He could exact his revenge now; revenge for Lucy, for Melody. His wolf moved into hunting mode, stealthily approaching the small building, carefully gliding from shadow to shadow. His muscles were tensed and ready for action. Every sense was alert, searching for signs of movement, listening for clues as to what might be happening inside.

At first, the voices were indistinct. One was lower pitched; obviously the hated unknown male. The other was softer, hesitant, confused...Melody! At least she was awake; that knowledge provided him with some small degree of comfort.

Ryne returned to his human form and pressed his body against the wall, carefully peeking inside through a dirty window. He could see the back of an elegantly dressed man and, just beyond him, Melody was sitting on a bench. Her eyes were narrowed and she was frowning. Ryne focused on the conversation, trying to determine what was going on.

“Come now, Ms. Greene. Your scruples are going to get you into trouble. Life isn’t simply black or white. It’s a myriad of shades of grey. Situations such as this are so ambiguous. I totally understand how you might feel some form of misplaced loyalty to Mr. Taylor, but think about it. He reneged on your agreement, forcing you into this untenable circumstance. There is no longer any obligation on your part to uphold a verbal agreement. We can easily avoid any further...unpleasantness, if you’d just be reasonable.” The man—whether it was Aldrich, Greyson or some other player Ryne had yet to encounter—was negligently leaning against a table.