Then, out of the blue, Rachel had shown up.
When she’d stormed inside the office and saw Chloe sitting beside an enormous werewolf whose hand rested possessively on her thigh a look of betrayal and hurt flashed across her face. Chloe knew how bad it looked. She’d called Rachel in a panic, unable to tell her anything about the night before, only to have her friend find her safe and unharmed at home. It was then Chloe knew her questions would have to wait. If she wanted to salvage the one friendship she’d relied on her entire life, it was time to start sucking up.
Too bad Rachel wasn’t in a forgiving mood.
As soon as they’d made it to Chloe’s room Rachel let it fly. Chloe listened as her friend vented, knowing how it felt when a person needed an outlet. When she learned Rachel had traveled to The Wolf’s Den looking for her, she couldn’t mask a sympathetic wince.
Rachel didn’t like things she didn’t understand—especially things that had the ability to shift forms and kill people. It was the primary interest the friends didn’t have in common. Chloe didn’t say a word as she finished packing her things, aware she wasn’t going to be able to avoid a confrontation forever. At least all of her eggs were finally in one basket. No more unexpected or unwelcome surprises.
“You should have called me or at least answered your phone,” Rachel repeated, voice heated. “I went looking for you! I could have become a Scooby snack.”
“I didn’t have a chance,” she finally said, zipping her bag closed. “I planned on calling you as soon as I got home.”
“Your new boyfriend wouldn’t have anything to do with the loss of brain cells, would he?” Rachel snapped. “You couldn’t pry yourself away from him for five minutes to tell me you were okay? Don’t you think I deserved that much? You said you were in deep shit, Chloe! I was scared to death.”
“Believe it or not I wasn’t thinking about you at the time.” She knew it sounded cold but she and Rachel had always been honest with each other. “I wanted you to tell Gram and Gramps I was okay so they wouldn’t worry. In case it’s slipped your notice, I’m dealing with some crazy shit right now.”
“Believe me, I noticed. It’s kind of impossible not to when you bring a werewolf home. What are you thinking? You know how dangerous they are.” Rachel lowered her voice. Anger marred the beauty of her face. “He could hurt you and your family. You’ve seen the news. You know what they’re capable of.”
“Yes, I’ve seen the news.” She whipped around, facing Rachel. “News that’s brought to the public by humans, with human interests, who don’t trust the paranormal things they discriminate against. Jackson would never hurt any of us. You don’t know him, Rach.”
“You don’t know him either,” Rachel shot back. “You just met the guy.”
“You’re wrong.”
There was a part of her that knew Jackson better than she knew anyone else. The connection between them was so strong she knew precisely where he was in the house—exactly where she’d left him at the foot of the stairs—as though she could feel him somehow. In fact, she was anxious to leave the room and return to him, craving his scent and closeness. He replaced anxiety with calm, eradicating the doubts that plagued her.
Rachel plopped her hands on her slim hips. “One night with a werewolf and you’ve decided to go to bat for the other team? Is that it?”
I am the other team.
One thought provided clarity and a dizzying amount of relief. What Jackson had told her was true. The mark on her wrist wasn’t a coincidence. Her father had passed his genes—his werewolf genes—to her. Like a key opening a lock to the unknown, her future and what it held seemed limitless. There was no room for fear, only acceptance and a small spark of excitement. There was so much she would be able to do, so many things she’d be able to learn. And she’d learn them with a sexy-as-sin man who set her blood on fire.
Holy wow.
The simple thought made her skin prickle with heat, anticipation pumping through her system. The night before had been an appetizer. She wanted to touch him, tease him and taste him. There were no limits. Jackson wasn’t a blushing violet. He wanted her open, honest and raw. There wouldn’t be any secrets. Only two people exploring everything together.
For a moment she imagined his fingers darting over her throat, her flesh tingling at the remembrance of his caress. Tonight he’d touch her again. He’d expose her to his gaze, eyes combing over her in lust, and she’d let him.
Elation and desire turned to sadness when she met Rachel’s gaze.
How did she explain that she’d always been different? She just hadn’t known how different until now.
“What if I told you I was meant to find Jackson?” she asked slowly, attempting to broach the topic in a way Rachel wouldn’t feel threatened by. “What if I said our meeting wasn’t accidental?”
“I’d say you’ve been reading too many Paranormal Junkies magazines and romance novels.”
“I’m serious.”
Rachel drummed her fingers over her hipbones and tossed her long, red-hued hair over her shoulder. “I’d want to know where you’re getting your information from. FYI, a palm reader with a crystal ball doesn’t count.”
“My father,” Chloe blurted, knowing she had to be honest. “It’s all because of him.”
“Whoa. Back up.” Rachel lowered her hands, confusion etched on her face, no longer on the offensive. “How did the topic go from Jackson to your father?”
“My father isn’t human.”
“Hello, I know that. We’ve had this discussion.” Rachel rolled her eyes as though she could communicate her agitation to the good lord above. “He’s an asshole you’re better off without.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
There was no going back. Once Rachel knew the truth she could take it or leave it. The walls seemed to close in as Chloe took a deep breath, afraid of the ramifications of sharing the news, knowing she didn’t have any other choice.
Stop delaying the inevitable.
Resigned, she exhaled softly and said, “My father isn’t human. He’s a werewolf.”
“He’s a what?” Rachel hoped like hell her ears were deceiving her. Chloe had to be making a funny. A really stupid fucking funny. She didn’t appreciate the attempt at bad humor.
“You heard me.” Chloe tucked a couple of unruly curls behind her ear, a nervous habit Rachel had become accustomed to. “Don’t parrot.”
Don’t parrot. A regular phrase the two used that seemed so out of place.
“Why are you only telling me this now?” Rachel grappled for words. “How could you keep something like that from me?”
“I didn’t keep anything from you. I didn’t find out until last night.”
“Last night? Was this before or after you visited The Wolf’s Den?”
“A bit of both, actually.” Chloe blushed, the apples of her cheeks turning red. “I always thought I was different but it wasn’t until I went into The Wolf’s Den and met Jackson…” She exhaled slowly and shifted her feet, clasping her hands together. After a moment she cleared her throat and whispered, “That’s when I knew for sure.”