Marked

Chapter Eleven

Chloe squirmed in her seat, stuck between her grandfather and her lover, rocking with the motions of the truck Gramps had insisted they drive. Jackson had gotten dressed as she’d requested, accepting the gauntlet she’d tossed. He’d teased her with kisses and lingering touches, on his best behavior when he took her home to speak to her grandfather.

Things had gone better than she’d expected.

Jackson had told her grandfather of his intentions and promised to marry her properly to appease his human in-laws. She’d been shocked by his declaration. Jackson had indicated their mating was a forever deal but having him state it so clearly—without a trace of hesitation—impacted her in the most wonderful way. She wanted to greet each day with him, learn everything there was to know about him and enjoy every single moment of their lives together. There was no doubt, no nervous jitters. She’d finally found what she needed—the man who complemented and completed her.

The day had been amazing. Almost perfect.

Until they went into Gramps’ office and her grandfather relayed his terms for meeting with Gavin Worthington.

The man, without a doubt, was bloodthirsty.

He’d stated his terms clearly, so there was no misunderstanding. He would drive himself to the hunt and return in his truck, thank you very much. No need for an escort. He also wanted to bring his gun. Additional ammo was optional, so long as he had a round in the chamber. He wanted one-on-one time with Mr. Worthington, meaning he didn’t want any interference.

The no-interference part had terrified her.

Gramps—youthful and energetic despite his age—was too old to fight.

He would hate her for saying so, but he couldn’t move as well as he used to. Arthritis in his hips, hands and knees made him slow. There was no way he could avoid a quick swipe to his head or a blow to his body. Jackson had attempted to reassure her, promising he wouldn’t allow anything to happen, but she couldn’t stem the flow of fear that had arisen when she pictured her grandfather addressing the man who’d wronged his child.

“Have faith,” Grams had told her before they departed from the place Chloe had always called home, attempting to calm her fears. “Sometimes, when things like this happen, it’s all you can rely on.”

Sound advice. Too bad she had sensed Grams’ tension and scented the older woman’s fear. Grams hadn’t been entirely honest. It had been strange to learn she could tell the truth from a lie with something as simple as a deep breath. In a way she’d been relieved. As frazzled as Grams had been about things, Gramps had been calm as a cucumber. The only scent she could detect from him was anger. The man who’d raised her since birth had no qualms about meeting Gavin.

Fletcher Bryant was comfortable in his decision.

She’d known part of Grams’ uneasiness stemmed from the inability to attend the hunt or confront Gavin herself. But deep down Chloe also recognized her grandmother was afraid for her husband—the man she’d been with all her life. Their love was as formidable as the mating bond between werewolves. Chloe had always known if her grandmother or grandfather passed away, the other would soon follow. They had been together too long. A separation would destroy them.

A sharp burn radiated up her arm, emanating from the mark on her wrist. She inhaled raggedly and covered the area with her hand, rubbing the itchy skin.

As soon as the sun had started its retreat from the sky eerie sensations had started. At first she’d ignored the tingling burn, focusing on her family and the preparations for the evening. Jackson’s touches had become sympathetic, revealing his awareness of the changes from her mark. As the hours had passed the prickles had gone from annoying to slightly painful.

Jackson leaned in, his shoulder bumping hers.

“Easy,” he murmured, reaching down to place his hand on her leg and giving her a comforting squeeze. “It’s going to be all right. Don’t feed the tension. Fletcher’s edgy enough as is.”

Crap.

Concern about the mark on her wrist evaporated.

There were more important things to consider, such as the fate of the man who’d raised her. Gramps might as well have been driving them to meet his doom. The pack had met them at The Divide and things had gone surprisingly well. Gramps had been cordial when he’d greeted the pack members. He’d even shaken the hands of several of the men. Yet that hadn’t eradicated the forbidding feeling of disaster, as though something terrible was going to happen when they climbed into their vehicles and drove to their destination.

“Chin up, Chloe Bean.” Gramps inserted himself into the conversation. “You don’t have a single thing to be worried about. I’m going to take care of this once and for all.” Sparing her a sideways glance, he said, “It’s like ripping off a Band-Aid. Once done, it’s done.”

Only Gramps would make that kind of comparison.

Any attempt to argue would be futile. The odds of winning a debate with her guardian were slim to none. She’d learned that lesson early in childhood.

Lifting her head, she gazed out the window. They were almost at the hunting grounds—an enormous piece of private property outside Atrum Hill. It was the perfect location to enjoy the call of the wild away from prying or curious eyes.

A bonus for those who shifted forms.

Dangerous for a man who would have to rely on a shotgun for safety.

The instant they drove past the gate to the hunting grounds her senses went on full alert. She straightened in the seat, staring ahead, taking in her surroundings. With her improved vision she could see the enormous structure they approached. Receding light surrounded the cabin-like structure. It was almost dark, the sun vanishing beneath the horizon.

She thought about the full moon on the way. Excitement and apprehension sent a rush of adrenaline through her system. She could feel the wolf inside her. Each passing hour brought more of the beast to the surface. The animal wanted to break free and run through the trees, breathing in the sweet scent of pine and leaves, feeling the cold earth beneath its feet.

They drew closer and she studied numerous vehicles parked around the cabin. She recognized one in particular—the SUV Simone and her father had driven to The Wolf’s Den. Exhilaration shifted to aggression. Her heart raced, her bestial half’s howl loud in her head. This time she recognized the possessiveness—the fury—that her wolf felt. She shared the sentiment.

Jackson was hers.

She’d fight for him. Bleed for him.

Die for him.

Warm breath caressed her ear and the very man she was determined to mark as her own whispered, “Soon, Chloe.” He released her leg and covered her hand with his, edging close so only she would hear. “We’ll be alone and your wolf can come out to play. Until then…”

A powerful surge of energy traveled up her arm and she was suddenly aware Jackson wasn’t the only one speaking to her—so was his wolf. His beast brushed against hers, compelling her feral half to heed his warning.

“You listen to me. Only me.”

The wolf within her settled, going astonishingly quiet. His power was shocking, delving into her soul and taking control. She’d never experienced anything like it. The link between them was undeniable. Maybe she should have been angry at his domination but his authority gave her peace, calming her in a way she desperately needed.

“Chloe?” her grandfather inquired, turning his head to look at her. When their gazes met she recognized the concern in his eyes. “Are you okay, Bean?”

“I’m fine.” She gave him what she hoped was a confident smile. Her guardian had enough to worry about. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t comprehend what was happening to her. He was completely human, without an animal inside him to contend with. “It’s just nerves.”

He returned his focus to the road with a loud snort. She studied his hands, noting the whiteness of his knuckles as he clenched the steering wheel. He didn’t buy her excuse. Not for a second. Memories of her childhood came rushing back. Gramps had never confronted her when she’d fibbed. He hadn’t had to. The moment she’d sensed his disapproval she’d always come clean.

She stared ahead, studying the people beside the cars and trucks. As much as she wanted to tell her grandfather the truth, she couldn’t. There was no room for her past in the present. The future waited. If she wanted to prove she was worthy of Jackson, she had to rely on herself.

Starting now.

Her wolf approved of her thinking, growling softly in her mind. She recognized the beast’s intentions. The animal had something to prove to the werewolves they were about to meet—to the pack she would soon lead—and to any female who had the nerve to challenge her for a place at her mate’s side.

They had no idea what the wolf was capable of. But they would.

Both of the men in the car wanted to protect her. What they didn’t know was her wolf had every intention of protecting them.

Chloe tilted her head and peered through her lashes at Jackson. Her gums were tingling again, her skin starting to itch. She expected to find him studying her. Instead he was staring straight ahead, eyes narrowed, glaring at the building. She followed his example and did the same. Seven men stood in front of an enormous group—including Simone’s father, Wade.

“Who are they?” she asked.

“Alphas from the area,” Jackson responded, skimming his thumb over her knuckles. “Wade apparently has diarrhea mouth. He must have told them what happened last night. They know we’re coming.”

She willed her hands to stop shaking, taking deep breaths to remain calm. Her eyes swept over a man who stood out in the group. Tall. Muscular. Short curly blond hair kissed by the last rays of the sun. Their eyes met through the windshield. Bright green irises—a color she was only too familiar with—matched hers.

Oh God.

It was him.

Time slowed to a trickle. They continued toward Gavin Worthington, his form becoming larger. No wonder Jackson had identified her biological father so quickly. Chloe might as well have been looking in a mirror. Despite being male Gavin had similar facial features, all the way down to his eyes, nose and mouth.

“Do you recognize him?” Jackson asked.

“That I do.” Gramps eased off the gas, buying them more time. She ripped her gaze from Gavin when her guardian reached for the gun wedged between the door and driver’s seat. “He knows about Chloe. Look at him. He’s waiting for her.”

“He knows,” Jackson confirmed, remaining completely calm. His fingers tightened around her hand. “I think he intends to greet her properly before the packs.”

“Good thing I brought Remington along.” Chloe could identify her grandfather’s rising anger through a scent that burned like pepper in her nose. He didn’t pull the gun out but rested his fingers on the stock. “I’ll wipe that smug smile off his face.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Jackson murmured. “Looks can be deceiving.”

Chloe didn’t want to look—afraid of what she might see—but she couldn’t stop herself. She froze as soon as she redirected her gaze to the man she’d resented as a child. Jackson was right. To those around him Gavin probably appeared confident and self-assured. To her, he seemed apprehensive.

Gavin’s green eyes darted to her grandfather and his lips thinned.

“That’s right. It’s me. You piss-poor excuse for a man,” Gramps whispered, his voice a low grumble. “Time to eat a slice of humble pie.”

“This isn’t about you, Fletcher. It’s about the future of your grandchild.” Jackson kept his tone level but Chloe knew he wasn’t fucking around. “You said you could keep a level head so do it. Don’t make this harder than it already is. You’ve only got one chance to face the packs and earn their respect. Stick to the plan.”

Her grandfather didn’t reply, stopping the truck several yards from Gavin. She flipped her hand around, clinging to Jackson’s fingers. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it would burst from her chest. When Gramps put the vehicle in park and shut off the motor she peered up at the rearview mirror. The members of Jackson’s pack drove around them, placing their cars between Gavin and the truck.

Jackson released her hand and opened his door. “Remember what I said. Stay calm. Don’t fuck around.” Glancing over his shoulder, he directed quietly, “Don’t leave my side, Chloe.”

She ticked off his earlier instructions.

Maintain eye contact. Don’t show fear. Don’t back down.

And—until their mating was officially recognized—do not speak.

Her legs felt watery when she slid from the seat and her feet landed on solid ground. Jackson was there to catch her, placing his large hands on her hips. She rested her palms on his chest, waiting until she felt steady and her nerves settled. After she was confident her balance was intact, she lowered her arms.

Doors slammed and footsteps approached. She lifted her head and saw Jackson’s pack had left their cars and surrounded them. Shane drew her attention, standing closer than the rest. Their eyes met and he gave Chloe a nod. He didn’t need to communicate with words, she got the message.

Be strong.

Wolves devoured the weak. Kill or be killed.

Declan’s sharply spoken “shit” had the pack on alert. It only took a moment to identify the source of their alarm. Gramps had closed his door and was approaching Gavin with his shotgun in hand.

If Jackson was concerned, it didn’t show. He simply wrapped his hand around hers, guided her through the people circling them and followed her grandfather at a leisurely pace. Her stomach rolled, a lemony bitterness rising to coat the back of her throat. She swallowed several times to combat nausea, keeping her head high. Her gaze swept over the men behind Gavin. Like Jackson, they revealed no emotion. She didn’t know if they were curious or angered by her grandfather’s presence.

Gramps hiked his gun and pointed it at Gavin. “Bet you didn’t expect to see me again, did you?” His hands were steady but his voice cracked, as though the strain of the years were finally taking their toll. In that moment he seemed so much older, wiser and frail.

“Mr. Bryant,” Gavin replied evenly and shifted his attention to her.

Green irises shone like blades of grass, the edges along the pupil brighter in color. She’d often wondered why Gramps had seemed sad when he looked at her sometimes, the misery in his gaze aging him beyond his years. Now she understood. He hadn’t seen his daughter when he looked at Chloe. He’d seen the man who’d taken what he’d loved most and cast her aside.

“Don’t even think about it,” Gramps thundered. “You stay away from her.”

Gavin ignored him, staring straight at her. “Welcome home, daughter.”

The loud snap of the shotgun being pumped made her breath catch, the ground beneath her feet feeling as though it had disappeared.

No, no, no.

Gavin might as well have built his own coffin, climbed inside and instructed everyone around to start piling on the dirt. He had no idea how much pain and suffering he’d caused.

Her feet moved of their own accord, covering the distance between her and the man who’d raised her. Jackson easily kept pace, gripping her fingers. His touch reminded that he was there and she wasn’t alone.

“Fletcher Bryant is here at my request,” Jackson called out, ensuring everyone within earshot heard his declaration. “He wishes to validate my mating to the grandchild he’s reared since birth.”

The composure Gavin maintained slipped. “The hell he has.”

Gramps stopped a few feet away from Gavin, shotgun braced on his shoulder. The wind swept through his graying hair, sending strands along his temple. “Give me a reason to pull the trigger.” One smooth motion and the barrel was aimed directly at Gavin’s groin. “I’ll start here and work my way up.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jackson quipped with a trace of humor. “Will it, Gavin?”

“A wolf with an ounce of respect would have consulted me about the mating.” Gavin’s glowing eyes landed on Jackson. “You should have come to me the moment you learned about her.”

Chloe jerked when the gun went off. The ground beside Gavin’s feet exploded, sending grass and earth scattering in the air. Everyone’s attention went to her grandfather, who carefully eased the gun up until he once again had Gavin in his sights.

“You’ve got some nerve talking about respect. You wouldn’t know the definition of the word if someone slapped you in the face with a dictionary.”

Gavin’s lips compressed, his eyes narrowing to slits. He turned his head and met Chloe’s gaze. It felt like cotton had been shoved into her mouth, making her throat agonizingly dry. She had to steel herself not to turn away or lower her eyes. Her wolf was newly born but she felt its presence. It wanted to take over and assert control. Power inched over her, cocooning her like a blanket, seeping through her skin.

“Be careful, Gavin,” Wade cautioned and took a step forward. “She’s unstable. Push her too far and she’ll crack.”

“She’s not unstable,” Gramps corrected coldly. “She’s just got a keen nose for bullshit.” Shifting his feet, he declared, “My granddaughter wants to get hitched. Since her groom-to-be showed enough respect to ask for my blessing, I’ve given it to the happy couple. If any of you have a problem with that, now’s the time to say so.”

Corresponding silence seemed to go on forever, especially with Gavin staring directly at her. Her heart clenched as she thought about her mother. The woman who’d given her life had never stood a chance. Gavin was extraordinarily handsome with his blond curls and bright eyes. Like the werewolves around them, he was also perfectly built, with muscles evident beneath his expensive clothing.

“Gavin.” Wade placed a hand on the Alpha’s shoulder. “You can’t dispute the claim. If you do you’ll risk the future of your pack.”

“The future of the pack is what put me in this position,” Gavin snarled and shook off Wade’s hand. Ignoring the gun pointed at him, he started toward Chloe and Jackson. She considered stepping back but Jackson didn’t allow it, squeezing her fingers almost to the point of pain.

“Is this what you want?” Gavin didn’t stop until mere inches separated them. This close she could see the lines around his eyes, the pain on his face. “Is he who you want?”

Jackson had warned her not to talk but there was no escaping it.

“I’ll have no other,” she responded, remembering Jackson’s earlier declaration. Leaning to the side, she braced herself against Jackson, comforted by the warmth of his body. He released her fingers and wrapped his arm around her, sheltering her under his shoulder.

“I’ll accept your claim,” Gavin turned from her and looked at Jackson, “but I want to speak to my daughter. There are things she needs to know. Things she deserves to hear.”

Gramps’ “hell no” created movement in the werewolves. Vicious growls filled the air. Jackson swept her behind him, his own violent snarl loud in her ears. Veering to the left, she fought to see.

Several werewolves had moved forward and Jackson’s pack rushed to intercept them. Panic broke her silence, ripping a horrified cry from her throat. The arm Jackson thrust out prevented her from aiding her grandfather, keeping her safely behind him.

Gavin’s loudly bellowed “stop” clashed with Jackson’s thunderous “stand down”.

She sagged against Jackson’s back as pure fire raced through her, the magnitude of her mate’s wolf absolute. Energy poured from his skin and seared into hers. Grasping at his shoulders, she fought to stand.

There was no denying his order.

Every fiber of her being told her to relent and do exactly as he said.

Both packs immediately complied and stopped in place. A few of them swayed as though they too felt the strength of will behind the commands from their Alphas. The growls didn’t stop but at least they weren’t actually fighting each other.

“Done,” Jackson retorted, the muscles in his shoulders flexing as she leaned against him. A steady vibration emitted from him—the pure and unadulterated energy created by his wolf—and poured into her. Oddly the sensation soothed rather than jolted her, becoming an anchor she desperately needed. “Seal the mating.”

Gavin’s expression softened as he looked at her. She couldn’t identify the emotion that flickered in his eyes. Sorrow? Regret? Determination? Hope?

Before she could compartmentalize her thoughts, he turned around and faced the packs. “I recognize and accept the young woman before me as my daughter. Let it be known that I’ve agreed to her mating with Jackson Donovan to strengthen our ranks,” he announced. “From this moment forward, our packs are united.”

As quickly as tension filled the air, it dissipated. The wolves relaxed and the growls stopped. The arm Jackson used to shield her from harm disappeared. Gramps shifted his attention to her. There was so much adoration in his face—so much concern.

“Chloe Bean?” he inquired softly.

She knew then that her grandfather was sacrificing his happiness for hers. Even though he wanted to confront Gavin, he was willing to walk away if that’s what she wanted. Despite everything he’d been through, his love for her was stronger than the hate he’d held on to over the years. Her eyes burned with tears, stinging like needles. She forced a smile, unable to see him clearly as her vision blurred.

The roar of an engine ripped through the air, destroying the moment. Jackson spun around and Chloe did the same. A sleek, white BMW approached. A resonating snarl had her head snapping to the side. She looked over her shoulder at Gavin, who’d lost any semblance of calm.

“Does she know about her?” Jackson asked, catching Chloe off guard.

Before she could ask who “she” and “her” were, Gavin growled, “Yes.”

“Is she the reason you left your child?” Jackson snaked his arm around Chloe’s waist and tugged her close. For the second time she felt his wolf rise. “Does she pose a threat?”

“Yes.”

Gavin strode over to them, reaching into his back pocket. His irises shone a vivid yellow-gold, accentuating the blond curls on his head. He didn’t dawdle when he removed a thick folded envelope and handed it to Chloe.

“Everything you need to know is inside. When you’re ready to talk, I’m only a phone call away.” He stared, as though framing the moment in time, his green gaze taking in the contours of her face. Finally—though it seemed to take effort—he ripped his eyes from her and looked at Jackson. “You shouldn’t stay for the hunt. Things are bound to get messy.”

“I won’t let my female lose face by running from your bitch of a Lupa,” Jackson replied levelly.

“Former Lupa,” Gavin corrected, staring into the distance, a surge of wind sweeping through the random locks of hair at his nape. “I’m renouncing our mating.” With a parting look at Chloe, he started walking toward the car, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t make me regret trusting you, Jackson Donovan.”

“Shit,” Jackson muttered and then yelled, “Fletcher, start the truck. We’re leaving.”

“Whoa, hold up,” she gasped, trying to speak despite the arm that hoisted her from the ground. Clutching the envelope Gavin had given her, she fought to stay upright. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“I’ll tell you just as soon as we’re off the hunting grounds. We need to go.”

Jackson reached the truck, opened the door and placed her inside the cabin. He moved away just long enough to instruct the pack to stay then slid into the seat beside her. In the short time she’d known the man, he had never backed down from anything.

What the hell has him so shaken?

Gramps tossed his gun into the bed of the truck and climbed in. One flick of his wrist and the engine came to life. Chloe managed to turn in time to see the BMW come to a screeching halt beside them. The driver’s side door flew open and a leggy brunette jumped out. Her furious blue eyes drifted to the truck and fixated on Chloe.

“Go,” Jackson snarled, his head turned in the glaring woman’s direction.

Gramps didn’t bother putting the truck in reverse. He rotated the wheel and skirted past the vehicles in front of them. Gavin intercepted the female—his Lupa, Chloe assumed—as she screamed something that was too garbled to understand and started striking him in the chest.

As they drove into the fading dusk, she lowered her head.

The envelope in her hand felt heavy—too heavy.

Everything you need to know is inside.

Jackson released a jagged breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to explain. Desiree might have—”

“I don’t want to know,” she whispered, knowing he would hear. “Not yet.”

Lifting her hand, she groped at the truck’s headliner. It wasn’t entirely dark out but she couldn’t read if she couldn’t see. When she found the button to turn on the interior light, she pushed it on and encased the area in a soft glow.

Jackson and her grandfather didn’t say a word when she took a deep breath, unfolded the envelope and slid it open. Nestled inside were pieces of paper.

Letters.

Her fingers trembled when her eyes skimmed over the first one.

Gavin, I don’t know where to start.

She kept reading, confirming her suspicions when she reached the end of the note.

It was from her mother.

She had obviously been infatuated with Gavin, putting her feelings to paper even though it was apparent she’d felt uncomfortable and awkward doing so. Chloe shuffled the note to the back of the stack. The second letter was written by someone else.

Dearest Sylvie…

She felt dizzy when she thought about what she held in her hands. There were many things Gavin could tell her about the past but she’d never know how her mother had felt. At least, she’d thought she’d never know.

Everything you need to know is inside.

The man she’d hated had given her a gift beyond measure, one that allowed her to get a glimpse into the mind of the one person she’d always wanted to know—her mother.

Forcing aside tears, she settled back and started reading.