“No you don’t,” he whispered, meeting her gaze. “Settle down. Now.”
Abruptly the rage inside her vanished. She frowned, perplexed.
What in the hell just happened?
“What was that?”
His fingers slid from her hair, the prickly sensation vanished and he shook his head. “Something else we’ll have to discuss when we’re alone.” He opened his door and slid from the seat. “Let’s go. Your family’s waiting.”
Taking a deep breath, she opened her door before Jackson made it around the car. After she’d climbed out and closed it behind her, she turned to face her grandfather. As she’d anticipated, he was pissed. Anger radiated from the aging man, his eyes narrowed, disproval and disappointment evident in his face. Her shoulders slumped, guilt hitting like a fist to the stomach. She hated it when Gramps was mad at her. She did everything in her power to avoid upsetting him.
Jackson moved beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Get away from him, Chloe Bean,” Gramps ordered, using the nickname he’d given her as a child as he lifted the gun. “Walk yourself up here and go inside.”
“Fletcher,” Grams whispered, standing behind her husband. “Calm down.”
“Don’t, Abigail.” Gramps ignored the softly spoken plea, glancing over until he met Chloe’s gaze. “His kind isn’t welcome here.”
Chloe felt the muscles in Jackson’s arm tense. She wanted to chance a peek to see what he might be thinking but thought better of it. Before she could figure out what to say Jackson gave her a gentle nudge toward the house.
“Go inside,” he said gruffly.
“What?” She gasped, tearing her gaze away from her grandfather and peering up at the man who had obviously lost his mind.
“You heard me.” He took a step forward, the hand at her lower back ensuring she did the same. “Go inside.”
Jackson gave her another nudge, making her take another couple of steps away from him. Grams quickly descended the stairs, taking it as her cue to get involved. When Chloe was within reach the older woman took her by the hand.
“Come inside, sweetheart. We’ll leave the men to sort out their issues.”
“But…” She whipped her head around, looking at Jackson. He’d folded his arms over his chest, his legs shoulder’s width apart. He didn’t look at her, his gaze locked with her grandfather’s.
“Go pack your things. Your grandfather and I need to talk.” For a second his eyes flicked to her. He gave her a comforting smile and winked. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh yes, you are,” Gramps snapped, his voice laced with hate. He pumped the shotgun, kicking things up a notch. “If you don’t want a bullet in your hide you’ll get the hell off my property.”
“Oh dear,” Grams murmured.
A deep sound penetrated the air, carrying on the wind. Immediately Grams was gone, leaving Chloe standing alone as she balled her hands into fists.
It was then that she realized the noise—a horrible, distorted growl—was coming from her.
Her vision changed, covering the world in a haze of red. She lifted her head, staring across the distance at the man who’d raised her. He’d kill Jackson if given the chance. He’d pull the trigger and put a bullet in the body of the man who belonged to her. He’d try to take him away, force her back inside a cage and make her exist without the one person she needed most.
Never.
Fury boiled over. The tips of her fingers burned, her gums starting to itch. Blood pounded in her ears, a violence she never knew stirring inside of her, clawing its way free.
“Put the gun down,” she snarled in a voice that wasn’t entirely hers.
She shook at the possibility of an impending fight, her vocal cords vibrating as she growled. When she saw her grandfather pale, his hands trembling as he gawked at her, she felt a peppery hotness slam into her nose.
Fear. She could smell it, identify it, the scent so strong she could almost taste it.
Delicious.
A firm hand wrapped around the back of her neck, followed by Jackson’s authoritative reprimand, “You listen to me. Stop. Right now.”
This time the force inside of her fought the compulsion. She started to snarl, prepared to yank away from his hold. Something she didn’t recognize slammed into her, burning as liquid fire seemed to travel from Jackson’s hand into her body. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her neck and his voice changed, a low growl that commanded obedience.
“I said stop.”
Holy shit.
Jackson let his beast reach out, calling on his power as an Alpha, forcing his mate to back down. He knew without a shadow of a doubt Chloe would be able to shift. Her wolf was too powerful to be contained. Even now it fought him, wanting to remain in control, to take over the human portion of his female.
Damn it to hell.
He should have waited to bring her home until he knew exactly what he was dealing with. He hadn’t expected her to react this way. Her wolf was determined to protect him from her own family if necessary. In wolves the behavior was expected. No one—friend, family or otherwise—came between mates. Attempting to do so resulted in dire consequences.
“Stop,” he repeated, trying to use as little influence as necessary. If he wasn’t careful he could make the situation worse. He gave Chloe a firm shake, his wolf snarling at its female, demanding her submission.
He knew the precise moment her wolf subsided, the prickles of energy fading as Chloe’s human half took over. He caught her before she fell, lifting her in his arms. Until the full moon, when she officially claimed her beast, she didn’t have the strength necessary to call on the feral portion of her.
He looked up, eyes narrowed. Her grandparents stood together on the porch, looks of horror on their faces. “You knew this was coming,” he said, livid that the ignorant humans had kept his female from those she needed most. “You should have warned her—you should have prepared her.”
“You should come inside,” Abigail informed him, bringing a hand to her throat, fingers playing at the collar of her shirt. “I assume there are things you’d like to discuss.”
Hell yes there were things he’d like to discuss.
Lots of fucking things.
Jackson hiked his chin, eyes on the gun in the man’s hands. “I suggest you put that away.”
Fletcher’s eyes drifted to his hands. He gave a pained nod, lowered the weapon and turned to walk into the house with his wife. Jackson almost felt sorry for him, noting how defeated the man looked. Something bad had happened to this family. Something in the past continued to haunt their lives.
A growl crept up his throat. He had a good idea who was responsible.
Gavin fucking Worthington.
He nodded at Abigail as he strode past her into the home. The house was old but tidy, everything in its proper place. He spotted a couch and walked to the furniture. Chloe didn’t protest when he laid her down, sighing as he rested her head on one of the hand-stitched pillows at the end. She was tired but she’d recover. If he wanted to speak to Fletcher he had to do it while she was out. The clock was ticking.
He rose and looked at Chloe’s grandmother. “She’s fine. Don’t worry.” Turning his attention to the man who was propping his gun behind the door, he said, “If you want to talk, now’s the time.”
Fletcher sighed, rubbing a wrinkled hand over his face. “This way.”