being, because she’d learned it the hard way. By experience. She bore the internal scars to prove it.
But she wasn’t alone. As far as tales of pain and betrayal and heartbreak went, she knew her specific story wasn’t all that different from what had happened to thousands—make that millions—of other women around the world. At the emotional level, of course. Obviously, the fact that her mother was a werewolf, which made Carla a half-breed, added a certain edge to the situation. As did the fact that the object of her need was a male so completely and utterly alpha wolf, he’d once made other deadly Lycans literally scurry out of his path.
Now, from what she’d heard, he intimidated everyone he came across, no matter their species. Everyone but her, that is. She’d taught herself to feel nothing where Elijah Daniel Drake was concerned. And it had worked for a long time. Until her shields had been blasted to hell and back almost two weeks ago, when she’d been taken prisoner by a rival werewolf pack and overheard their battle plans before making her escape.
Now the time had come for him to make things right. Both for her...and for Eli’s birth pack, the Maryland-based Silvercrest Lycans. Failure wasn’t an option, because failure could mean the death of not only the pack, but also her friends and their loved ones. And her fellow Bloodrunners meant too much to her to sacrifice because of misplaced pride.
As Carla drove into the star-filled night, she was so tired she could almost taste the sweetness of sleep, but refused to give in. For two weeks, she’d had to struggle through injury and fatigue to find him. Tonight, he felt closer—within her reach—and she knew this was it. She was currently making her way across Louisiana, and within a mere matter of days, her search would finally be over.
Then she was going to do what she should have done the moment he’d abandoned her. She was going to end the pain once and for all. Break the connection, like a bone fracturing beneath the force of a brutal, crushing blow.
She was going to make him cut her loose...and be free.
After that, things would be...easier. She would get on with her life, and find a way to forget that she’d ever even known Eli Drake.
Were there risks with her plan? Of course. Weren’t there always when it was something that mattered?
Her life as a Bloodrunner—a hunter of rogue wolves who had taken a liking for human flesh—was nothing but one continual risk after another. And now, thanks to Silvercrest enemies who were planning to attack the pack, which was already weakened after catastrophes it had suffered at the hands of Eli’s own father, an inevitable war was on its way. A bloody battle on a scale she knew might very well wipe out every person she’d ever loved and cared about. Her band of brothers, in the truest sense of the word.
They needed Eli and his fellow mercenaries on their side. Needed the mercs’ strength and expertise to help train the members of the pack who were willing to fight. But once he’d served his purpose, she was making this happen. Ripping him from her heart and her thoughts for the final time. For forever...
Even if it killed her.
Two days later...
Eli Drake blinked his bleary eyes, unable to believe what he was seeing.
Shit. Had he drank so much he was hallucinating? If so, his pickled mind couldn’t have come up with a more stunning, confounding vision. The hole-in-the-wall, small town Texas bar where he and his crew had landed for the night was a decent enough place to settle for a few hours while they tossed back some liquid therapy—and after the last assignment they’d taken, they’d definitely needed it. Hell, they could have drowned themselves in whiskey and beer for days on end, and it wouldn’t have been enough to wipe out the horror of what they’d seen in that little South American village.
So, yeah, the woman who’d just walked into the bar had to be a by-product of his inebriation.
Only...as far as he could recall, he’d only had two whiskeys. For a man his size, even if he had been human, that wouldn’t have been enough to make him start seeing...imagining... Damn it. He couldn’t even get the words out within the privacy of his own mind.
Maybe it’s a stress vision? I probably just need a break from my shitty day job.
Yeah, that was a better explanation than the alcohol, and extreme stress had been the riding theme of his life these past few weeks. Months. Years.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Eli focused on forcing the vision away. He didn’t need crap like that screwing with his head. Sure, he was going to have to face her soon enough, considering he and his men were finally headed back to the mountains where he’d grown up, to his hometown of Shadow Peak, where the Silvercrest Lycans lived. But he wasn’t ready for it now. Not tonight.
Facing Carla Reyes again after three years of banishment was something that would take battle armor and a heavy duty, steel-lined cup to protect his balls.
Fate, however, apparently didn’t give a damn.
When the Lycan to his left softly swore under his breath, his deep voice rough with appreciation, Eli choked back a biting curse. Christ, he wasn’t imagining things if others could see her, too. She was really there. In the flesh. Carla-Fucking-Reyes.
His next indrawn breath confirmed it, his dick hardening with ridiculous ease beneath the fly of his jeans. The soft, sleepy, feminine moan that followed made him look down, and he was momentarily surprised to find a woman straddling his lap, her face planted against his chest. He’d completely forgotten she was there, but then, it’d been a while since she’d spoken. He couldn’t recall her name, but she wasn’t in any shape to remind him. She was out cold, a line of drool slipping from the corner of her pink lips.
Hmm... Classy chick.
With a jerk of his chin, he signaled Kyle Maddox, his second-in-command and the guy who’d spotted Carla, to deal with the comatose blonde. But it wasn’t the woman on his lap that had Kyle’s attention, his nostrils flaring as he pulled in the Runner’s scent. Eli knew the moment his friend pegged her as a half-blood Lycan, his dark brows slowly rising on his forehead.
Eli gestured again to the blonde in his lap. “Take her.”
Kyle snorted as he moved to his feet and lifted the woman into his arms. “And do what with her?”
Keeping his gaze locked on Carla, Eli said, “Just make sure she gets somewhere safe for the night. I don’t want one of these assholes in here taking advantage of her.”
“She’s definitely a local girl, so I’ll talk to the servers. Maybe one of them can take her home with them.”
“Good,” he muttered, impatient for Kyle to get the hell away from him before Carla reached the table. “Just do it.”
Carla had spotted him in the crowd and was headed his way, her gaze sliding toward the nearby group of Lycans standing at the bar—Sam, James, and Lev—who were watching her with unmistakable interest. Even Kyle, who had moved over to join them with the blonde in his arms, had his full attention focused on Carla. She looked exhausted, but gorgeous. At five-six, she was just tall enough that she didn’t look like a child when standing beside a man of Eli’s height, but was still...petite. Lithely muscled and battle-scarred, but somehow still incredibly feminine. Big brown eyes flecked with green and framed by thick lashes. Slim, delicate nose.
