Cupping her face in gentle hands, he instructed, “Stay upstairs until I get back. I want you to lock yourself inside and wait for me. I’ve told Nathan to remain outside your door until we return.”
His kiss was as combustive as his touch. He didn’t brush his lips against hers, he demanded entry. His tongue delved, explored, ravished and tasted. Drawing her in until she was clinging to his tight black T-shirt, her hands forming fists in the thin cotton. When he lifted his head they were both breathing heavy, a mixture of desire, worry and uncertainty flowing between them.
The increasingly strong mental connection allowed them to experience what the other was feeling, so she was aware that as scared as she was for him, he was equally torn about leaving her. She could feel it in him, could sense how it tested his control.
He wanted to be nearby in case she needed him and resented the responsibility that took him from her side since her emotions were unstable. Without his nearness, he worried she would be on edge, unable to think of anything but what was taking place in his absence. The thought made it impossible for him to break away from her, and he wasn’t sure if he’d have the power to leave her behind and see to the safety of the pack.
Although she hated to do it, she brought up the mental barrier between them and shut him out. The moment he felt the severed connection he frowned.
“Ava—”
“Shh.” She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his chest. “If I don’t, you won’t be able to leave.”
His arms came around her and squeezed until, slowly, he pulled away. “Stay in the apartment. Wait for me.”
She nodded, fighting back tears, and whispered, “Hurry back.”
Diskant turned from Ava before he pussied out and told Trey he couldn’t go. It was too difficult to look into her face and tell her goodbye when his instincts demanded he stay, especially when those pools of reflective blue revealed the anguish the separation caused. Thank god she’d severed the connection that allowed him to experience her emotions, leaving him with nothing more than his own doubts and fears. Otherwise he’d never have been able to leave her side.
Her tears fucking killed him.
“Let’s go,” he told Kinsley and stepped past the pack standing at each side of the door.
Emory and Trey were just outside, waiting in front of the black, unmarked, older-model vehicle. The strain was evident on their faces, although Trey appeared to be more shaken.
“Don’t start any trouble. Keep your mouth shut and wait for us,” Trey instructed Emory as he stepped away and Nathan appeared with a pair of silver cuffs in his gloved hands. “Don’t fight them and don’t argue.”
Emory didn’t respond, the only indication he’d heard coming in the form of a slight nod. He didn’t flinch when Nathan placed the cuffs on him, remaining quiet and still as they were fastened to his wrists.
“Aldon has been advised of where you’re going to drop him,” Trey told Kinsley quietly. “As soon as he knows which way they’re traveling he’s going to contact us and plan the diversion. Keep your cell handy.”
Kinsley nodded, opened the driver’s side door and slid inside. As soon as the motor started Nathan opened the back door for Emory, who promptly did the same.
The moment the doors closed Diskant placed a comforting hand on Trey’s shoulder. Even though Diskant wasn’t close to his own brother, as their ages prevented them from forming a bond, he couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be to place a sibling in harm’s way.
The car shifted as Kinsley put it in gear and slowly pulled away from the curb. The pack watched silently, all of them experiencing the turmoil, fear and anger that assailed their Alpha.
“I hope we know what we’re doing,” Trey said.
“He’ll be fine.” Diskant let go of his shoulder and stepped back.
No one spoke as Trey walked to his motorcycle and climbed on. He brought his hands to the handlebars but stopped short of touching them. Lowering his arms, he rested one palm on the fuel tank and brought the other to his chest and rubbed the surface as if something had touched him. When Diskant stepped over Trey looked up and a strange, ominous expression shrouded his face. He continued rubbing his chest, shaking his head.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
Neither did Diskant, though he didn’t say it. “With Nathan in charge we don’t have to worry about the bar.”
“I know that, it’s just…” Trey hesitated before he sighed and lowered his hand. “Let’s get this over with.”
Half of the pack returned to the bar while the rest went to their bikes. Diskant climbed on his Harley and waited until Trey had vanished down the street before he started his own engine.
Glancing through the window to the bar, he saw Ava standing near the hallway. Her arms were folded over her chest and her short hair was in disarray. For a second he considered killing the engine, returning inside and staying with her until the danger passed.
Trey was right.
All shifters were born with a sixth sense about things, and something was definitely off.
His gaze rested on the shifters seated near the windows and the bar. Some of them he knew personally, others he knew by association. Each was on full alert, armed to the gills with weapons, ready to do whatever was necessary to protect the pack.
There was no way they’d allow any harm to come to Ava. They’d kill anyone or anything that came through the door.
Shaking off the prickly sensation at the back of his neck, Diskant’s focus returned to his mate. She hadn’t moved. He wasn’t sure if she picked up on his indecision with her telepathy or if she instinctively understood that she had to turn away first but that’s what she did.
When she finally vanished from sight he took a deep breath, pulled the kickstand up with his heel and revved the motor.
Chapter Seventeen
Two vans approached in the darkness, headlights flashing and motors humming. Trey shifted his weight, balancing on the balls of his feet, and remained in a crouch in the cover of the trees and foliage. Adrenaline and the impending thrill of combat made his skin tingle and his heart accelerate. The rest of the pack was equally agitated, struggling to remain still under the green span of shrubbery.
Watching as Emory had been taken by Shepherds had nearly driven him to the point of madness, so much so that he’d actually started to shift until Diskant pulled out his Omega deck of cards. Even now, he felt that calming portion of his pack mate easing his beast, forcing it to recede so the man could remain in control.
“Easy,” Diskant whispered and placed steady hand on his shoulder, the weight heavy and grounding. “It’s almost time.”
Trey nodded, unable to speak, wanting to rage against what he couldn’t control.
Right before the vans reached the trees, Aldon would stop the progression, giving them time to dispose of the Shepherds one by one. That moment couldn’t arrive soon enough. He needed to see Emory, to know he was safe and that no harm had come to him. While less than an hour had passed since Kinsley had handed him over, a shifter could be killed in under a minute with the proper injury.
The pack moved restlessly, as eager for blood as he was.
Stop thinking about it. Take fucking control.
Trey took a deep breath and released it slowly. The desire to change forms and attack was nearly impossible to deny. For the first time he missed the mysterious caress of what he’d started referring to as his phantom, a spirit that seemed to arrive when he needed to be comforted most. The ghostly fingers that brushed his skin were a balm on his soul, atonement for his sins. Real or imagined, the sensation never failed to bring a level of peace and calm.