Slade's Desire (White River Wolves Series, #2) Page 2

  “Hush, Sweetheart,” Gypsy heard a low voice say as she reared up in bed, screams tearing from her throat. Eyes wide in terror, she flinched from the hand that gently stroked her arm, trying to pull away. “Look at me, Gypsy,” the deep, male voice commanded quietly. “Look at me. You are safe, Mate. No one is ever going to hurt you again.”

  Mate? Gypsy thought as she struggled to focus on the man standing beside her. What was a mate? Hell, she didn’t know. She didn’t know much of anything. She wasn’t even sure she remembered her own name. Everyone kept calling her Gypsy, and since they acted like they knew her, she assumed they must be right. Not only that, but it felt right.

  Sighing in frustration, she leaned back against the bed, resting her head on the pillow. Skimming her eyes discreetly over the man, Gypsy felt her heart flutter when their eyes met. Who was he? She could drown in his deep, chocolate-colored gaze. Her eyes wandered over his thick, dark hair to his strong jawline, finally coming to rest on his firm, sensual lips. She had seen him before. He’d been in her room several times when she had woken in the middle of the night. Normally he stood by the window, looking out into the darkness.

  The first week in the hospital, Gypsy had floated in and out of consciousness, always losing her hold on reality before she could question him. She had been so weak and malnourished that her body required an enormous amount of sleep. The last time she had seen him, he was talking quietly with the doctor. Not wanting to interrupt, she tried to stay awake to find out who he was, but ended up falling asleep again, and he was gone the next time she came to. She felt as if she knew him, even though something told her she’d never met him before coming to the compound. That’s what they called the place where she was currently staying; the White River Wolves compound.

  Glancing out the window, Gypsy frowned as she realized it wasn’t dark outside. Normally, the man only came at night as far as she knew, but the way the sun barely peeked through the blinds suggested it was early morning. As much as she wanted to find out who he was, she was suddenly aware of how she must look to him. The swelling on her face had lessened, but several dark bruises remained. The nurses had helped her shower and wash her hair, so at least it wasn’t the ratty, dirty mess it had been when she arrived. The blankets hid the dark bruising that covered the majority of her thin, battered body. Lowering her head, she rubbed self-consciously at the cast on her arm, wincing in pain. She wasn’t sure why it mattered. She didn’t want anyone looking at her twice after the hell she had just endured. Her brow furrowing, she wondered exactly what that was supposed to mean. What hell had she been through? Her mind was one messed up, confusing place lately.

  Narrowing her eyes, Gypsy struggled to recall what had upset her in the first place. Why had the man felt the need to try and calm her? What had she been screaming about? A dream, she thought, her brow furrowing. She’d had a dream. More like a nightmare, she thought with a grimace. Images of someone in unbearable pain as he was beaten over and over again with a tire iron flashed through her mind, and then there was nothing. Her head pounding, Gypsy fought to bring the images back, but the harder she fought, the harder it became to concentrate. The nightmare was just lost to her.

  Groaning softly, Gypsy tried to get more comfortable in the hospital bed, fighting to push back the pain that flowed through her. Her entire body ached, and no matter which way she turned, there was no relief. Closing her eyes, Gypsy took a deep breath, trying to relax her tense muscles. Feeling the hand still stroking her arm lightly, she allowed herself to take comfort from the stranger’s gentle touch. “Who are you?” she asked softly as she struggled to open her eyes again.

  Her head pounded as she tried to remember something...anything. Not for the first time, Gypsy wondered if she should know the man with the captivating eyes and deep, sexy voice. For some reason, she felt like she should. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she cried out as a bolt of pain shot through the back of her head.

  “Nurse!” the man yelled, his hand tightening slightly on her arm. “I need a nurse in here!”

  She heard the soft pitter patter of feet as someone quietly entered the room. “What can I do for you, Sir,” a soft, timid voice asked.

  “She’s in pain,” he growled, his voice low and demanding. “Get her something for it, now.” Gypsy felt sorry for the nurse, but the man’s gruff, commanding tone somehow made her feel safe. She had a feeling she had not felt that way in a very long time.

  “Your name?” Gypsy whispered again, moaning as another sharp sliver of pain sliced though her head. For some reason, it was very important she know his name before she lost the fight and succumbed to the darkness that threatened to consume her.

  “Slade,” she heard him mutter from his position by the side of her bed. “Slade Dawson.” She could tell he’d moved away slightly, but he had not left her. As the shooting pain in her head became almost too much to bear, Gypsy softly whispered his name before finally allowing the darkness to overtake her.

  Chapter 3

  Slade sat in a chair by the hospital bed watching Gypsy sleep. The nurse had given her something for the pain immediately after she’d lost consciousness. As his eyes traced the pale, bruised features of her beautiful face, Slade growled lowly, his hands clenching and unclenching in anger. His tiny, delicate mate lay in pain and fear, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. The men who hurt her were already dead, killed by RARE when they rescued Gypsy and Trace just days before from a Colombian drug lord. If not, he would hunt them down and take out every last one of them himself.

  Fuck, he had never thought he would actually find his fated mate. Not all shifters did. Some searched their whole life for their mates, only to end up living, and dying, alone. Some fell in love and married, even knowing their mates could be out there waiting...like he had.

  Leaning forward in the chair, elbows on his knees, Slade bowed his head, sighing deeply. He felt guilt pour through him as he remembered his sweet Sarah. Sarah may not have been his mate, but he had loved her since the day they met. A young lady of seventeen years, she was sweet and innocent. Her long, light blonde hair and bright blue eyes were what attracted him to her at first. Her large heart and gentle nature sealed the deal. Once he had her, he was not able to let her go. Slade married Sarah and loved her for the three years they’d had together.

  After Sarah’s death, Slade wanted to die himself. Even though they did not share a mate bond, he had been deeply in love with his wife. After losing both her and their baby in childbirth, he lost the will to live. Merely existing, Slade roamed the countryside, drinking and getting into trouble for several years. Looking back, Slade was not proud of some of the things he had done, but at the time, he had a death wish of his own. His wife and child were dead, and he wanted to be too. Life wasn’t worth living without Sarah by his side.

  When he finally climbed out of the bottle, Slade decided it was time to get his act together and try to move on. Sarah would not be proud of the man he had become. Hell, he wasn’t very happy with himself. She would definitely not have approved of the cage fighting he had found himself participating in frequently. It was the only way he could actually feel anything. He was able to block out the emotional pain by substituting it with physical pain. Drunk fighting was not smart, though, and there came a time where he almost didn’t walk out of the ring alive. That was what it took to make him realize that even without his Sarah with him, he really was not ready to die. It was a long, hard road, but finally he managed to put it all behind him and move on. A part of him still missed Sarah, but time had dulled the pain and sadness. Now he chose to remember the laughter and good times they had shared instead of the dark despair caused by her death.

  Slade raised his head and gazed at the lovely woman still asleep on the bed in front of him. It had been over one hundred years since Sarah passed away. He was a normal, full-blooded male. He had sex when he felt the need to, but it was always rough, and never with anyone from his pack. Slade did not do love and commit
ment. He stayed far away from anything that could remotely be classified as a commitment. At least, that was how he had chosen to live life in the years following Sarah’s death. Now there was Gypsy. He was going to have to find a way to move on and accept his mate in his life. He didn’t have a choice. Mates could not be apart for long periods of time. It was virtually impossible. Already he felt the pull towards her. Would she want him when she realized he had forsaken their mate bond and married Sarah? Could she forgive him?

  Shaking his head, Slade realized that even though he might be able to move on and claim his mate, she definitely was not ready for him. If the numerous bruises, stitches, and broken arm were any indication, not to mention the stench of fear that clung to her, Gypsy may not be ready for the mate bond for a long, long time. She was human. She would not understand what it meant to have a mate. There was also her amnesia to take into consideration. Gypsy did not remember anything prior to waking up in the White River Wolves hospital. She had barely been coherent in the past week that she’d been there, spending most of the time asleep.

  Rising in frustration, Slade made his way over to the window. Standing with his hands on his hips, he looked out over the light dusting of snow that blanketed the land beyond the hospital grounds. Raising a hand to rub the tense muscles in the back of his neck, Slade thought about his mate. He knew next to nothing about the woman who lay in the bed behind him, besides the fact that she was stunning and made his cock hard as a rock. It did not matter that it was in large part the mate bond that was making him want her the way he did, he still could not get rid of his need to bury himself deep inside her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t anything he would be able to act on for some time. Raking a hand tiredly through his hair, Slade squeezed his eyes shut in exhaustion. He would have to have patience, and that wasn’t one of his strongest traits.

  “How is she?” a soft voice asked from the open doorway.

  Stiffening at the intrusion to his thoughts, Slade turned to face the woman. “Same as when you stopped by the last time.”

  “And how are you doing?” she asked quietly, her dark green eyes wide and inviting. The open expression on her face urged him to talk to her. A part of him wanted to, but he wasn’t sure where to start. He’d never been very good at expressing his feelings.

  Placing his hands on his hips, Slade turned to look out the window once again. “It is what it is, Jade,” he said shortly. “I can’t change anything.” Closing his eyes, he sighed tiredly. Glancing at the bed to make sure Gypsy was still asleep, he looked back at Jade. “I have no idea how to help her. I can’t give her memories back to her. I can’t remove the fear that haunts her.” Realizing he was voicing his own fears to Jade, he laughed roughly. “It seems you found your calling. You are pretty decent at the counselor gig, aren’t you?”

  Returning his smile, Jade responded lightly, “I hope I am. I love helping people. It’s so much better than what I was doing before.”

  Wincing, Slade turned back to the window. Jade had been through so much in her young life. When she was just a child, she was captured by a man known only as the General. She was held for several years in a desolate area in an Arizona desert. He didn’t know the specifics, but he knew she was rescued by RARE. Angel, the leader of RARE, was Jade’s mother, and Jade was now mated to one of the men on Angel’s team. Even though she was more than qualified to become a part of RARE, Jade had chosen to work as a counselor of sorts at the hospital, and she seemed to be very good at her job.

  Slade had been closed off for so many years, unwilling to share his emotions and feelings with anyone after his wife and child died. Now he had the chance to move on. To move on with a mate that he had forsaken for another woman. A mate who had lost her memory and had no idea what a shifter even was. Slade let a low growl of frustration escape. His life was so fucked up.

  Hearing a soft moan, Slade swung around toward the bed. It seemed as if Gypsy was having another nightmare. She’d had several over the past few days. Even though Slade wasn’t always there with her, he heard about them from the nurses. Unfortunately, she never seemed to remember them.

  “No,” Gypsy cried out softly as she thrashed around wildly. “Sari! Sari! Please, please don’t hurt my sister,” she begged as tears ran down her face. “Sari!”

  Slade stayed where he was when Jade moved to the bed and placed a gentle hand on Gypsy’s arm. Murmuring softly to her, Jade leaned in closer and gently stroked a hand down her long, dark hair. As he watched, Gypsy slowly quieted down and slipped back into a deep sleep.

  Jade stayed by her side for several moments, before finally stepping back and turning to the door. “Thank you, Jade,” Slade said roughly.

  Jade smiled, “One touch from you would have done the same thing. A mate’s touch is very calming.” With one last gentle smile, she left the room, letting the door close softly behind her.

  Just as Slade took a step toward Gypsy, the phone in his pocket vibrated. His eyes narrowing, Slade retrieved it to check the caller id. Seeing Chase’s number, he answered quietly. “Yes, Alpha.”

  On the other line Chase ordered roughly, “I need you in my office now, Slade. Xavier’s been shot.”

  “I’m on my way,” Slade responded shortly. After one last look at his mate, Slade quickly left the room. Five minutes later, he was standing in front of Chase’s desk listening to a breakdown of what they had figured out so far regarding the shooting, which was basically nothing.

  “The son of a bitch had to have been outside the gates of the compound. I couldn’t find a trace of an unknown scent anywhere,” Chase growled as he rose from his chair and started pacing around the room. Stopping in front of the huge window in his office he ordered, “I need you to take some of your enforcers and case the area around the outside of the fence. Then spread out until..”

  “With all due respect, Alpha,” Slade interrupted, praying he didn’t get his ass kicked with the mood Chase was in lately, “we would need to go at least a mile out if it was a sniper, even further if we can’t find anything.”

  “Then what in the hell are you waiting for?” Chase growled. “Take your enforcers and go!”

  Bowing his head in submission, Slade responded quietly, “Yes, Sir.” Without another word, Slade left the Alpha’s office. Taking out his phone, he sent a text to four of his best enforcers, including Bran, the pack’s beta. He was going to need all of the help he could get if he wanted to come up with something before dark.

  Sighing deeply, Chase Montgomery raked a hand through his thick, dark hair. He hated to be such a prick to his head enforcer, but he could not seem to control his temper lately. Grunting in annoyance, he placed a hand against the cool glass of the window. Chase shook his head in disgust as he remembered flying through that same window in his wolf form just a week earlier. He knew he was being stubborn. He could contact RARE and have them there shortly as long as they weren’t out of town on a mission. With their abilities, the team could figure out what the hell was going on a lot quicker than Chase and his enforcers could. But, there was a reason he did not want to call RARE in on this, and her name was Angel Johnston.

  Not only was Angel the leader of the highly trained mercenary team, she was also Chase’s mate; A fact that she did not want to acknowledge, even though she had bitten him months before starting the bonding process herself. Stepping away from the window before the thought of Angel’s rejection caused him to shatter it again, Chase turned and left his office. He needed to check on Xavier and Aiden. His sorry excuse for a love life would have to wait.

  Chapter 4

  Gypsy snuggled deeper into the warm blankets enveloping her. A soft smile curved her full lips as she envisioned dark hair, deep brown eyes, and a strong jawline. “Slade,” she breathed softly, a small shiver running up her spine.

  At the sound of her own voice, her eyes sprang open and she cautiously looked around the room. The hospital...she was in the hospital. When she was sure she was alone, Gypsy pushed herself up into a sitti
ng position on the bed, crying out at the pain that raced through her body. Gasping for air, she slowly lowered herself back to the pillow. Closing her eyes tightly, she cringed as she saw a hand coming toward her and yanking her up off of the cold, hard ground by her hair. Another hand smacked her repeatedly across the face yelling something she could not make out. It had to be a part of her memory resurfacing. Gypsy pushed down the fear, and clenched the sheets in her hands tightly as she fought to remember more.

  “You bitch,” a deep voice growled, his hand tightening around her arm as he shook her roughly. “I bring you what extra food I can hide from my boss. If he found out what I was doing, he would throw me down here with you. As much as I may want to fuck you, I don’t want to share a cell with you.” Gypsy sobbed, begging the man to stop when he began to bend her arm in a way it wasn’t supposed to bend. “What food I bring down here is a gift for you! Not for the piece of shit in the cell next to yours. I will teach you to give away my gifts.” Struggling to catch her breath, she cried out in pain as a sharp crack split through the air and pain shot up through her arm. Gypsy knew it was just a memory, but it felt as if she were reliving it. Clutching her broken arm, she sat back up and screamed loudly over and over again, trying to push the memories back down.

  She flinched when a gentle hand touched her shoulder. “You’re okay, Gypsy,” a sweet voice said. “It’s going to be alright. You aren’t back there in that prison cell. You are in a hospital at the White River Wolves compound. You are safe. No one is going to hurt you again.” The soft touch and kind voice helped to calm her terror, and Gypsy slowly crumpled back against the bed again, her head resting on the soft pillow.

  Turning to the woman she now recognized as Jade, she let the tears flow freely down her face. Shaking in fear and pain, Gypsy whispered, “I don’t know if I will ever feel safe again.”