Marked

Chapter Five

“Maybe you should stay here.” Chloe didn’t look at Jackson as she spoke, staring up the drive. She’d had Jackson stop a safe distance from home, wanting to make sure she was calm enough to face the firing squad she knew was waiting for her. “The house isn’t far. I can walk the rest of the way.”

“No,” he said, sounding calm and confident.

She pulled her focus away from the graveled road, meeting his level stare. It shouldn’t be possible for a man to look so good, his mere presence making her body throb in all kinds of wicked places.

“They’ll be upset. You shouldn’t expect a warm welcome.”

His fingers brushed her chin and angled her head. He leaned close and nuzzled her nose, his breath warm against her face. “It doesn’t matter. In case you haven’t realized it yet, I’m not here for them. I’m here for you.”

She swayed, knocked off balance once again by how sincere he sounded, by how he looked at her as though nothing else existed in the world. Since breakfast he’d been nothing but a gentleman, opening her doors, touching her in innocent ways that made her restless. The only time he’d been firm was when she’d asked to call a cab. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere and she’d better get used to it.

Why in the world did that make her feel so giddy?

Spending time alone with man she hardly knew—despite feeling close to him in a way she was trying to wrap her head around—went beyond impulsive. When she thought about it, it seemed absolutely crazy.

How would he react if she decided she couldn’t pack her things and leave with him for a weekend alone together?

“I don’t want to rush you but waiting isn’t going to change anything,” he murmured, his deep baritone sending a tendril of heat from her belly to her sex, his eyes shifting from brown to amber. “I’ve had to deal with a lot as an Alpha. Trust me when I say things often seem like they’ll be worse than they actually are.”

“An Alpha?” she whispered, alarmed for entirely different reasons now.

They hadn’t had a chance to discuss aspects of their personal lives, but she never imagined he had his own pack. She swallowed hard, seeing him on an entirely different level. She’d known he was dangerous, she just hadn’t appreciated how much power he truly had. She’d done enough research on werewolves to know Alphas weren’t to be trifled with. They were known to be aggressive, dominant and in total control.

“That’s right,” he replied softly, as though he could sense her apprehension. “Once we finish here I want to take you somewhere private where we can learn everything about each other.” He lowered his head and feathered his lips over hers, moving from right to left, making her breath catch. “I want to know you inside and out, Chloe girl.”

“Then I’ll start at the beginning,” she found herself saying, unsure of where she was going with the conversation. “My mother had me when she was my age. I never knew my father. For my grandparents, I’m all that’s left of her. They taught me everything I know. They’re the only family I have.”

He pulled away and peered down at her. “You make it sound like I want to take you away from them.”

Her cheeks heated. Damn. She did make it sound like that, didn’t she?

“Don’t you?”

“No, I don’t. You promised me the weekend. I’m only taking what you’re willing to give me.” He paused and his lips lifted at the corners. “For now, anyway.”

Butterflies erupted in the pit of her belly, something that seemed to happen a lot around him. “You’ll have to make them believe that before they’ll let me leave. If you don’t, Gramps will shoot you.”

She grimaced when she heard her grandfather’s voice in her head, warning her potential suitors would be staring down the barrel of the gun he kept behind the front door. She’d thought he was joking until she’d entered high school and a study partner who happened to be of the male gender had visited her house. Poor Casey Roberts had pissed his pants. Her grandfather had puffed his chest out with pride as the young man had rushed to his car and fled. And she’d been left standing on the porch embarrassed and horrified.

Suffice it to say she’d had to study Biology on her own after that.

“Duly noted.” Jackson moved back to his seat and put the car in gear. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

The heavy weight in her gut built, making her queasy as he took the vehicle up the drive. Prior to the departure from Jackson’s home she’d convinced herself she was a grown woman making her own decisions. She’d felt good about it then—confident. She wasn’t a child anymore. Her grandparents, as much as she loved them, had interfered in her life for too long. It was time to take the reins and start living her life as she chose.

Sadly a thirty minute drive had managed to chip away at her newfound sense of independence.

As she’d feared, the door opened when they pulled next to the house. Out came Gramps, dressed in his usual jeans and work shirt, toting the very shotgun she’d warned Jackson about. Despite the sixty-five years behind him, her grandfather had aged well. His broad shoulders were as intimidating as she’d always remembered, the stern look on his face daring anyone to fuck with him.

The door opened again and her grandmother appeared. While Fletcher Bryant put the fear of God into someone, his wife Abigail had the exact opposite impact. Five years younger than her husband, she too had aged gracefully. Her grandmother always had a welcoming smile on her face, her temperament much more easygoing.

Despite the firearm, Jackson didn’t appear nervous. He put the vehicle in park, killed the engine and reached for the handle to open the door. Instinct had her reaching out to stop him, fear and concern crashing into her. She jumped when she felt that strange part of her—a part of her from the night before that she’d nearly forgotten about—rear its head. It wanted to protect the man seated beside her, to warn those who would dare threaten him of the wrath that would fall on their heads.

Jackson’s eyes changed colors, becoming intense and luminous. He wrapped his fingers in the hair at her nape and gave the strands a harsh, almost painful tug. A humming energy extended from him to her, wrapping around her like a cocoon. The prickles of what seemed like electric current were sharp, piercing her flesh.

“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.”

With a final glance at Chloe, Jackson followed the man as he left the room. Pictures adorned the walls, most of them of Chloe from infancy to adulthood. A couple of the pictures were of another young woman—with dark hair, a happy smile and bright blue eyes. She was a mixture of Fletcher and Abigail, taking on her father’s darker coloring and her mother’s eye color.

Chloe’s mother.

Fletcher opened a door to the right, stepped inside and moved to the wall to allow Jackson to enter. The office was as clean as the rest of the house, the large desk across from him free of dust. Fletcher closed the door and waved at the chairs in front of the desk as he walked around it.

“Take a seat.”

Although Jackson preferred to stand, he sank into the chair. “What do you know about Chloe’s father?”

“Aside from the fact he’s like you? Not much,” Fletcher remarked with a bitter laugh. “I only met the bastard once, after he showed up here to break things off with my daughter.” He lifted his head, eyes full of pain. “He killed her, you know. She didn’t want to live without him. She wasted way to nothing after Chloe was born.”

A warning chimed in Jackson’s head. “Wasted away?”

“It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. She just…” Fletcher lowered his gaze, shaking his head. “After she had Chloe she stopped caring. The doctors did all they could but you can’t make person want to live.” In an instant the man became hostile, snapping his head up. “I won’t let you do the same thing to my granddaughter. I won’t watch you destroy her like her father destroyed my Sylvie.”

Jackson knew the sadistic smile he gave the old man was menacing but he couldn’t contain his contempt. In human form, it was difficult to bare his fangs. Instead he displayed his teeth in a manner that revealed his anger. If given the chance, he’d tear the man who’d deserted his mate apart, piece by bloody piece.

No one would hurt Chloe. He wouldn’t allow it.

“I’m nothing like Chloe’s father.” He decided to level with Fletcher. The man had balls of steel. “You knew what her father was, didn’t you? You knew he wasn’t human.”

Fletcher nodded. “I knew.”

“And you didn’t think you should tell Chloe? Don’t you think she had the right to know who she is and where she comes from?”

Jackson had to fight for control, furious at what might have happened if his mate hadn’t started the process of dreamsharing. Without her other half to guide her through the transition she could have gone mad. One of the Alphas in the area would have had to put her down. With the recent media attention and fear of their kind, no pack would be willing to take on the responsibility of a crazed Halfling.

“Don’t act so high and mighty.” Fletcher didn’t back down. “I took necessary precautions.” When Jackson arched a brow Fletcher said, “It’s amazing how much information folks are willing to share if you throw a little money around. I knew what we were dealing with. There was a good chance she wouldn’t inherit the trait.”

“But she did inherit the trait,” Jackson growled. “It’s a damn good thing she found me. Otherwise she’d put everyone around her in danger. She’s already feeling the changes.”

“Let’s cut to the chase.” Fletcher reclined in his chair and Jackson could feel tension electrifying the air. “You brought Chloe home and you didn’t cut and run. That tells me there’s some honor in you. I want to know what your intentions are. Are you going to do the right thing? Or do you plan to amuse yourself by using her until someone else comes along and tickles your fancy?”

He moved before he was aware, hands slamming on the desk as he leaned toward Fletcher. “Careful, old man.”

“You don’t scare me.” Fletcher didn’t break eye contact and no fear accompanied the statement. “That young woman out there means more to me than anything. If you honestly believe I’m going to back down from the likes of you, you have another think coming. Answer my question. Why are you here? What do you want with my granddaughter?”

“Chloe is my mate,” Jackson stated, putting the fact out in the open. “I intend to claim her as such before my pack.”

“So you’re going to marry her?” Fletcher asked quietly. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. What’s mine, I keep,” he answered and stood. “And make no mistake, she’s mine.”

“You say that likes she’s—” Fletcher caught himself, realizing his mistake.

“What? An animal?” He couldn’t help but snort. Leave it to a human to put things into simple categories—man or beast.

“She’s not a belonging. You don’t own her.”

“No more than she owns me.” When Fletcher frowned, Jackson smiled. “It’s safe to say your grandchild has me wrapped around her little finger. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

“You’re too old for her, you know,” Fletcher grumbled, scrubbing his hand across the back of his neck. “Hell, you’re probably older than me.”

He decided not to clarify or share his age. Yes, he was a helluva lot older than the man but providing that information wouldn’t do either of them any favors. Right now they were on common ground.

“Relationships aren’t always perfect.”

“She’s going to live forever, isn’t she?” The strength in the aging human faded, leaving him a worn out old human who had more years behind him than ahead. “She’s like you now.”

“Not yet, but she will be.”

Fletcher mulled over his words. “And you’re going to care for her? You’re going to do everything in your power to make her happy?”

“You have my word.”

Jackson heard Chloe in the other room talking softly to her grandmother. The floor creaked, indicating she was rising from the couch. He knew he had to hurry. There was one positive thing coming from all of this, one thing Gavin Worthington couldn’t have anticipated.

“Did the male who got your daughter pregnant know she was expecting? Did he leave her in your care knowing she was carrying his child?”

“Of course he did,” Fletcher huffed, cheeks flushing red in anger, back to his former fighting self. “I don’t think he would have come here if Sylvie hadn’t pushed the issue. Apparently he didn’t want her coming to see him anymore. He came here to tell her to stop.”

Just like that, everything changed.

Gavin had given his child over to another male to raise and protect. If Fletcher accepted Jackson’s union with Chloe, no one could stand in the way of their mating.

“One more question,” Jackson said, grinning as he heard Chloe’s approaching footsteps. “If you came face-to-face with him again, what would you do?”

“The same thing I did the first time.” Fletcher graced Jackson with a grin of his own, one that promised retribution. “Shoot his worthless ass.”