Scent of A Rogue

Chapter 9 - Blood Ties

Riva

People thought I had some daddy issues when I started dating Stan. He was only ten years older, I protested. Of course, I knew what they saw from the outside – a ponytailed fresh college graduate who had just started working at a bank and a prematurely graying criminal lawyer.

For a time, I had to beg Stan to have his hair dyed black.

“I thought you liked me because I was greying,” he had joked. “Don’t worry about what people say.”

It was easy for him to say that. He was not the one who had the wrong end of the stick. People thought that I was with him because of his money and that he got me an apartment in the city. It was hard to explain that I was wealthier than my older boyfriend and that he was living with me. I bristled every time he just laughed at the jokes and did not correct people’s assumptions.

Thankfully, he managed to grant my wishes, feeling like an over satisfied genie giving me favors. He had his hair dyed. Sometimes, I would put on too much makeup for parties he took me to as his plus one. I had tried hard to make us look like a couple that people could believe in.

Somehow, I wondered if it was me that I was trying to convince.

I was an orphan since childhood. I kept telling people that. After all, I visited a grave near the Coven grounds, and it had my mother’s name: Sandra Albrecht. I faintly remembered being very young and somehow knew that she had been a good mom. I could not say the same for my father.

I shook all thoughts of him. Some people did not deserve a second thought. They should be thrown into the pits of memory, the tiny black holes where things go forgotten.

In my apartment, the old memories sometimes haunted me. It was why I drowned my life with activity: witches’ training, work at the bank, and then Stan.

Now, everything was gone.

So, my mind had space for the unthinkable. The unallowable. The pain.

But ever since Gideon came into my life, something else had entered. It was a strange connection with someone I had never known before the attack. Days. It was not possible to make a connection within days.

I could still smell him.

He was right. There was something about what happened between us in the woods. Something was ignited. His apartment was several doors away from mine, yet I could sense him. Feel him. And the moment he stepped aside, my fever had returned.

“You can call me anytime. I’m in room 933,” a version of what he said lingered in my mind, repeating like a crazy mantra of an overwrought woman.

“No!”

I was never the one to call on a man for anything. Even though Stan was more of a comfort to me, I was somehow glad he left. Inexperienced and young, I did not know how to break up with a man. It was good that he thought of it himself – leaving, I mean.

***

He was older than my mother, tall, and had a perpetual sneer on his face. He rarely came by to see us, but it was not pleasant whenever he did.

“Go and greet your dad, Doriva,” mom would say.

It was hard for me to accept that the man in front of me was my father, even though I had his black hair and the same shade of green eyes. My mother was a redhead with paler green eyes. My father’s own was forest green like mine. His name was Dorival. The first time I had a chance, I shortened my name to Riva.

“Hi, daddy.”

I was five, and mom was still very much alive. She already had dealings with the Coven, but I doubt that my father knew – until that fatal day. I shook my head, refusing to go down memory lane. The shrieks still haunted me to this day, but I thought self-control was all about blocking the rest of it.

They were not married. It was why my mother kept her maiden name, and I got to keep it, too. It was a surname that had gone down for centuries from a line of witches. Albrecht. I had always vowed to read through my mother’s diaries. They had been left for me after she died, tied in black ribbons. They were supposed to tell me about my history – my family’s history. However, it was too painful to go through them.

Especially now.

I was what was left of her line, but I had been a disappointment. Thanks to his wolves, I could not even kill a sniveling seventy-year-old politician. A flare of anger rose inside my chest. It reminded me that I should not fraternize with any wolf, even if it was a rebel like Gideon.

They were out to hunt him.

Anytime, they would be sniffing around in the city. They also knew my car. With their sharp eyes, I bet they knew my license plate by heart. Well, s**t. I was very patronizing with Gideon, but I had not thought of my own security checks. I vowed to get the whole thing sorted the following day. Then, I would go to the bank to see if there were any vacancies. If not, I could try the smaller businesses and see if they looked for accountants. However, I could also jump on the graduate studies train. I had the money and the time. I could probably teach in Oak City College’s business studies department once I get my qualifications.

It all sounded like a good plan.

What was not good was the fever that I was feeling. My forehead felt hot, and I was shaking a little. I had no infection. It was clear now that the wound had healed entirely in just a short time.

Gideon might be right. There was something about this bite that connected me to him. It was all his damn fault. Throughout my years in the Coven, we had been told about how bad the wolves were. They were evil. We should not associate with them at the very least and kill them at the most.

I disagreed with the killing part, especially when it came to some of the other packs. I had had no problems with some of them. They usually kept to themselves and were more defensive than offensive. On the other hand, the members of the Wolfless Pack were both wolves and criminals. They had always been on the fringes, waiting for a good bite. I had to remind myself that the torn pieces of human flesh in the Forbidden Forest resulted from their viciousness.

Yet, I wanted Gideon.

For some reason, I wanted him. I was not the sort who fell in lust with someone. I had only Stan for a lover and never cared enough for other men who asked me for dates. It had always been the Coven – my first love, my passion. For some reason, this stranger had cheated by breaking through my defenses with that bite.

A vision of myself leaping up and stabbing the Alpha wolf on its neck rushed back to me. He had been about to leave me alone. I had a broken arm, but suddenly I felt a burst of energy that propelled me toward him.

My heart was hammering in my chest. A spike of desire went through me, all over my body. It would be cliché to say I had never felt anything like this before, but it was true in my case. I fumbled for my phone. Perhaps I should call a doctor. Who could I call here in the city? There was my only non-witch friend Jane. Shame washed over me. I had not returned her messages when I was neck-deep in training sessions. Then, I would just call her months later because I needed help.

I contemplated calling Gideon. I needed him here. The fever seemed to abate in his presence, my body cooling somewhat. The pressure of knowing that he was there was probably the reason behind it.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

“Riva, I know you don’t want me here. But I know you need help.”

Gideon.

Damn him.

Damn him, but I found myself scrambling for the door. I opened it and saw him standing there in the hallways. He had changed into a white shirt and gray sweat pants.

“Gideon,” I breathed, sweat trickling down my temples.

Instead of the gentle calm that I expected, I felt more heat. I looked up into the wolf’s glazed eyes and knew that he felt the same.

“May I come inside?” he asked, almost timidly.

“Yes,” I managed to say when I could feel myself growing moist at the sight of him. How did I end up acting like such a slut? I backed away from him, letting his huge form enter my tiny apartment.

“You needed me. That’s why I’m here.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, flushing. Suddenly, I had the urge to run my hands all over him: his sharp jawline, the bristly stubble on his face, bulging biceps, and defined pecs.

I turned redder, realizing where my thoughts had been going. It wasn’t me. Was there a way to get rid of this feeling?

“I heard you as if you were speaking to me. You must tell me now. Do you have any wolf ancestors? What are you?”

“I’m a witch. I had a witch mother and a human father.”

“Oh,” he looked disappointed. “A human father?”

“Yes. Dorival Grant was nothing more than an arrogant human who didn’t know how to take care of his family. He didn’t even marry my mother. It was for her own good. My mother’s money all went to me.”

“I was hoping I could get some answers. Now, there are more questions in my head,” he murmured.

I watched his full lips and wondered what they would taste like. Oh, Gideon. I had more questions in my head, too, but whatever was taking over my body was shaking away all coherent thought.

Could he feel it?

He sat on the couch and watched the floor.

He felt it.

It was why he couldn’t look at me.

“So, what are you planning to do? Sit here in my tiny living room and make it even tinier by hogging the couch?” I asked. The tone was not meant to sound teasing. I was going for abrasive, I swear.

Gideon’s jaw clenched, but he did not want to look at me. I saw his hands were clasped together.

“I will help you get through this. If I am right, you are going through heat.”

“H-heats are supposed to attract mates among you, dogs. How?” I asked, the insult coming out defensive in my ears. However, I knew that it hit Gideon hard. His knuckles had turned white.

“It’s supposed to be that way. My wife and mate, Suzanne, was an Omega. She went through it. It was supposed to continue our species. We never had children.”

All desire seemed to have been washed away from my body then. Of course. An Alpha of Gideon’s age would have had a mate already. Who was I to think he was waiting for me all his life? Did he leave his wife in the facility? I narrowed my eyes at him. Was he that kind of guy?

“Where’s your wife? Why didn’t you bring her here?”

“For one, do you think I can escape with someone else with me? Someone with poor health like Suzanne?”

My mind rebelled at that. I was conflicted about what I thought and felt about his wife. I felt indignant for her. Why didn’t he bring her? But I was also jealous of her. Jealous. When I had no idea who Gideon was beyond him being an Alpha on the run. A rogue.

“You left her?”

“No. She left me,” he said, the bitterness in his voice striking me hard. “She’s dead, Riva. It’s been more than a year now. It’s how I had been freed of my shackles. I saw the pack for what it was because they did not have any other hold of me now that she was gone.

He must have really loved her.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Gideon lifted his head then. His eyes had turned amber, and his nose flared. No wonder he had been keeping his head low. A low growl formed in his throat. Suddenly, all other thoughts escaped me.

I stood from where I was seated and then straddled him there where he sat. There was no protest. When our lips met for the first time, it felt like it had happened before. There was a strong feeling of déjà vu as our desperate mouths melded together, tongues clashing. It had never been this passionate with Stan. Everything had always been planned, scheduled, and set on a timetable.

When his hands opened the black robe I still somehow wore, I was lost. He nuzzled my neck, darting little kisses down to my collarbone. Then, he stopped. Just stopped.

Gideon lifted me easily and carried me beyond the partition that separated my bed from the rest of my studio apartment. I trembled in anticipation. My hot skin met the coolness of my sheets. I wanted to pull him closer to me, but I felt something had changed.

Once I was in bed, the wolf placed a blanket over me. Then, he tapped me as if he was soothing a child.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret tomorrow, Riva,” he said.

I knew that he was right, but my mind was shot with desire and disappointment that it felt like an insult then.