The Walls of Jericho

Resolution

If ever I doubted that Rebecca was an alpha bloodline, that uncertainty ends in the next second when Channing shoots his mouth off about throwing her in a cell. I can feel his alpha presence vibrating in the room and the alpha glow from his eyes bathes the area before him in blue like headlights, exerting his dominion over all of us.

But when he makes that threat, she pivots sharply to face him and the stone-cold gaze she levels at him is murderous and sharp like needle-fine shards of glass. “You overstep your authority.”

“I’m Alpha. I am the authority.” The casual lean of his body in the doorframe contradicts the tension that’s coiled inside him like an overwound heavy-duty spring. He’s itching—fiercely—for a fight, and I don’t think either of their hot-headed wolves recognizes that’s all this is.

A pissing contest.

“Channing—,” I try to interrupt again, to diffuse the explosive pressure building between them.

“Jericho, why don’t you go down to the garage and wait for me?” He doesn’t want me present for the legendary argument that’s about to explode.

Something about his request stings. An intrinsic component of it feels duplicitous too. But I shove my own feelings aside and try to play peacekeeper.

“Oh no you don’t!” Rebecca snaps. Her self-satisfied smirk proclaims loudly she relishes getting under his skin. It’s like a game for her—showing off what a superior asshole she can be. “She’s the Luna, remember?” she says snidely and there’s clearly no respect for me in it at all. “She can stay right where she wants and frankly, she really owes it to herself to see exactly what kind of Alpha and man you are, Channing.”

Strangely, their roiling hostility reminds me of when Channing and I faced Drake alone together in the park in south Crossroads. Only then, we were partners.

Right now, he’s treating me like property.

That realization in combination with Her Royal Rudeness Rebecca’s blatant disdain sets my own temper ablaze, but in the daylight, neither of them recognize the strobing flicker of the lights as my magic draws power from my surroundings. Bloated and warped by the mass of energy I’ve absorbed, my control snaps long before they’re done with their staredown.

The ground rumbles and shakes beneath us with only a second’s warning before the percussive wave sends furniture sliding and shatters the glass in the framed art on the walls. It throws both Channing and Rebecca to the ground, him flat on his face and her flat on her back several feet from each other.

But they’re wolves, and they recover quickly. Rounding into defensive crouches, they both face the new threat I pose, prepared now to fight together. Pack, despite their disagreements.

Which means even though he made me a wolf, I’m still an outsider. Seeing it physically manifest makes me want to hit them both again. My magic surges, eager to respond, licking the trembling walls around me and enjoying the taste of my rage. It claws at my insides, pleading to be unleashed. It yearns, desperately, to rampage unchecked over everything around me.

It’s only the rapid and subtle flick of Channing’s gaze as mentally he strategizes an attack or escape plan that helps me reign myself in. When a beast of a man like him is afraid, that’s when you know the danger is beyond genuine.

I fix a glowing golden stare on Rebecca. “Don’t ever use me as a tool again,” I warn, then flick my poisoned barbs at Channing. “Don’t tell me what to do.” Stepping over the threshold of the office into the hall, I storm to the front door, fling it open and stomp down the stairs.

Behind me, Channing lets loose a blistering string of obscenities, cursing himself for his stupidity and Rebecca for her willfulness, then I hear him pounding after me. “Jericho, wait.”

Ignoring him, I continue plodding down the stairs towards the drive circle. I don’t have a plan for where I’m going beyond ‘out’. I need a place to put my unmanageable and unruly emotions, besides into raining devastation on poor beautiful Tassler house and sending the world descending into chaos.

“Jericho!”

It doesn’t take long for him to catch up, but he’s smart enough to know not to touch me. Instead, he darts around me, stopping abruptly on the step below. With his arms raised shoulder-height to the sides, his palms forward in a gesture of surrender, he blocks the path physically.

On the stair above him, I’m eye-level with him. My eyes lock on his face like a target and my magic writhes with glee.

“I’m sorry.” The words sound worn out, tired and defeated.

“Oh yeah?” I bite out in spiteful doubt.

His gaze upon me is as soft as a caress. “Truly.” His hands drop to his sides. “I should be used to it. Rebecca and I aren’t ever going to see the world through the same lens. I try to be the bigger person, but sometimes she still gets the better of me.”

“Duly noted.” I step onto the grass to go around him and immediately Channing moves to counter, blocking my path again.

“Please,” he says softly. “It got out of hand because I really want this time with you, Jericho and I’m sorry I lost my cool. I’m not sorry that I want to get us away. To go someplace for a few days where we can just be and be in love with each other. Where we can revel in it like last night, just relax and do what we want to—eat when we want to, sleep when we want to, cuddle and kiss without feeling like we’re budgeting our time together.”

“Oh, come on, Channing!” I cross my arms over my chest. “What does Rebecca have to do with that? You booked everything. We’re going, whether she agrees to look after Mr. Adriani or not.”

“I know,” he acknowledges. “But I also know you care about him. You’re protective of him. You want someone you know and trust to look after him.”

“What makes you think I trust her? Do you?”

“I—no. Not really.” His expression is confused, which tells me he hadn’t really thought about that either.

“She’s hiding stuff. Lots of stuff,” I say flatly. “So no, I don’t really trust her beyond the clear communications I can control. Why can’t you do that? Why do you have to go off the deep end?”

“I don’t know why I let her wind me up. I know it’s what she wants—my attention—and I shouldn’t give it to her. I especially shouldn’t let her take it from you.” Ashamed, his gaze drops from mine. “I guess it still smarts. When she thought we were going to be together, there was no question of how great an Alpha I would be. Now, she constantly recycles every insecurity I confessed to her then, plus she flaunts in my face how I—how I played her.”

I hate their relationship, I realize. Not that it’s so acrimonious and hostile even though that’s bad too. I hate that they have one. Years of one. Years more than the one I have with him. I envy that it was ever close enough, that they were vulnerable enough with each other that she can still yank him around by his insecurities and he can still wound her by truly falling in love with someone else. That they’re still bound together in a way that he and I aren’t.

“You two shouldn’t be around each other,” I state flatly. “And I don’t mean in the same house. I mean on the same continent.”

A bitter little laugh escapes him. “You don’t have to tell me, babydoll.” His voice sounds defeated. “Why do you think I’m so eager to take you to Ireland?”

I don’t have an answer to that, and I feel a little guilty. I get angry when I realize he doesn’t think about my feelings or try to understand what makes me tick, but that’s the exact thing I did with him and this trip to Ireland. If I want a partner in him, I need to be one too. “Because there’s something you want to show me.”

We stare at each other for a minute, chirping birds and the distant sounds of residential life and the ocean spilling into the empty space.

“So show me,” I challenge. “Help me hire somebody to look after Adriani for a week. Ship Rebecca off to Mistake Peak or Trollhättan and remember it’s about us.”

A new silence stretches in between us, then a slow smile creeps over his face. “Trollhättan? Is that an actual place?”

“Yes. And it sounds like the kind of place that she needs to live, doesn’t it?”

“It does. Do you want to go for a ride?” he asks, tipping his head towards the garage. “It’s a little chilly for a tank top, and you should probably have something more protective over your arms. I’ll get you a jacket if you want to go.”

Nodding, I smile. “That’s exactly what I’d like to do.”

Channing’s whole face lights up and it hits me again how beautiful he is. He didn’t shave this morning, and the prickly dark stubble along his square jaw is remarkably appealing, highlighting the strong angles of his handsome face and the deep blue of his eyes. Like me, he’s wearing jeans, and with the long-sleeved black t-shirt he’s wearing clinging to the perfect lines of his chest and even picking out parts of his divine six-pack, he’s utterly smoldering.

“Wait right here and I’ll get you a jacket.” He takes a step closer, tentatively, and looks down. Gently, he tips my chin and lifts my eyes to his. “Am I forgiven?”

I nod. “But don’t think I’ll forget.”

“Oh, I know that for sure.”

Dipping his head, he brushes his lips against mine, then backs away just slightly. His breath tickles across the tingling space he’s abandoned and I wonder what he’s waiting for, then realize I’m an i***t. 

He’s waiting for me. 

He’s waiting while I decide whether or not my forgiveness extends to physical contact. Wrapping my arms around his neck tightly, I kiss him back hard.

When we come up for air, he reiterates, “Wait right here,” then darts up the stairs two at a time.

The birds sing and the sun shines down warm on me, and despite that i***t frackus that went on between Rebecca and Channing, that feeling of contentment I’ve been chasing returns. For two lifetimes, I’ve been an orphan. The things Channing said to me last night, about having a family and a place to slow down and enjoy it, those really resonate with me.

I wonder if he ever had those conversations with Rebecca, back whenever it was they were doing whatever they did. Given the way she behaves—so uppity and concerned about what everybody else thinks—I get the impression that they probably didn’t. That was a pretty vulnerable confession to make, and Rebecca doesn’t seem like the type interested in living in some quiet corner of the world with a bunch of kids pushing around her knees. She’s the kind that wants to be running the world.

I turn, hearing Channing jogging down the stairs. He’s carrying a long-sleeved denim jacket I recognize from my closet but don’t think I’ve ever worn.

“Here. This might be a little too warm, but it’ll protect your arms.” He holds it open so I can slide my arms into it, then pushes his sleeves up his forearms and offers me his hand.

We walk down to the drive court together and he holds the gate for me.

“Um, babydoll?” When I look up at him, he jerks his head towards the closed garage doors. “Do you suppose you could—?”

I grin, then wink and the garage starts to open. I step a little farther into the drive court to avoid the garage-y smell while he backs the bike out, but still stay where I can enjoy the view of his gorgeous backside and muscular thighs when he throws one leg over the motorcycle.

He puts the kickstand up and one hand on the handlebars, then turns the key in the ignition, only far enough so he can take it out of gear to back out. That’s when he stops moving and I see in profile his nose scenting the air in the garage, his brows drawn together.

The book Drake gave me! 

Rebecca had said the scents in the garage would disguise it, but that doesn’t appear to be the case. Panicky, I wonder if he knows about her secret little library.

“Everything okay?” I call, hoping to distract him and he looks back over his shoulder at me.

He pushes the bike out with his legs, using the handlebars to steer it alongside me, then hands me my helmet. “Yeah. For a second, I caught a whiff of what I thought was smoke. That worried me, but the more I kept sniffing, the more it smelled like that pungent skunky smell from gas.”

Or dragon.

Oh God.

“Maybe we should leave the door cracked to vent it?” I suggest, wondering if that will make it better and terrified it will make it worse. To hide my expression, I pull the helmet on quickly.

Channing points to the side of the garage, just under the eaves. “It’s vented. I think it’ll be fine. Just remind me to check the caps on the spare tanks in there. One of them must not be on tight.” He turns the key in the ignition and starts the engine, then leans back and pulls his helmet on.

I don’t know quite what motivates me today, but this time I put my foot on the peg and swing my leg over and take a seat behind him.

Flipping his visor up, he looks at me over his shoulder. “Mind connecting the audio?”

It takes less than a second to access the app on his phone, then connect through the Bluetooth to both our helmets and the motorcycle’s audio system. “Sure thing.”

He flips his visor down and backs the bike up further, angling it down the drive. “Hold on tight, babydoll.”

Oh, now this I’m going to like. I set my hands on either side of his waist, then give a soft, “Mmmm,” feeling the hard ridge of his V beneath my fingertips. Despite the fact that my explorations are over his t-shirt, I can still feel every delicious bulge and delectable ridge of his divine abs as I tighten my arms around him.

My inner thigh muscles give me a little twinge when I open them wider around his so that I can slide up closer to him. My breasts press against his back as I cuddle up against his warmth, and I breathe in deeply the slightly musky sea-salt-sand and sun-warmed male scent of him.

That’s one of the nice things about riding on a motorcycle with someone, especially someone you care about. It’s incredibly intimate.

It takes a couple minutes to get to the gates for the Tassler Heights community, then a few more to get off the city streets and out onto the open highway headed east out of town. Though the helmet’s awkward, I tuck my head against his back and hold him tighter.

The buildings along the side of the road thin, then trees and prairie grass replaces them entirely. Even that blurs as he opens the throttle and it feels like we’ve taken wing. At first, I think he might be headed out towards the Avernus bunker, and I don’t relish the ride over the unpaved roads, but Channing takes another exit onto a two-lane highway. The droning engine and the feel of his strong steadiness against me wipes away everything else.

There’s no worrying about Mr. Adriani. No worrying about how to find the oracle. No worrying about Drake. No wishing Rebecca would take a long walk off a short pier. Well, okay, there’s still a little of that, but only because now I just want him all to myself without Her Royal Rudeness robbing me of my bliss. The road twists and weaves and inclines slightly upwards and I sway with Channing as he maneuvers us through each turn assuredly.

A few minutes later, I feel the motorcycle slow, then the gears shift. We pull off onto the shoulder at the crest of a hill and I realize as I turn my head the opposite direction, we’re looking out over the hungry ocean. It’s kind of beautiful. 

Leaning to one side, he picks my foot off the peg and loops it over his lap, then leans the other way so he can wrap his arm around my waist. “Come here, babydoll,” he says, then Channing shifts me onto his lap facing him. He removes my helmet and hangs it off one of the handlebars, then removes his and runs a hand through his hair. In the sunlight, the leather bomber jacket color sparkles brightly with gold and he gleams like a god.

“This is kind of sexy.”

Half-lidded blue eyes skim down the front of me to linger where my legs open around his waist, then return just as slowly. A lazy smile curls one side of his mouth and that scarred brow quirks. “Yeah, it is. Maybe next time you should wear a skirt.”

“Someone might see us.”

Channing huffs at the absurdity and I have to admit, he might be right. I don’t think we’ve passed a single car since he turned on this road. 

“Who? That guy? I suppose he might have some really high powered binoculars.” He points to a boat of some type so distant on the horizon, it’s difficult even with wolf eyes to see.

I loop my arms around his neck and kiss him. “Don’t be a jerk. We should get back so Mr. Adriani doesn’t root through the pantry looking for sauerkraut.”

“I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to deal with Rebecca. She’s such a pain in my ass.”

I shake my head. “She’ll have crawled back under her rock again. We won’t see her, maybe not even until we leave for our trip.”