Chapter 4

Myron is fagged out, slouching on the couch when I enter the apartment around late afternoon. I stare at his almost magnificent figure for a long time, listening to his raspy breath, his head flung over the back of the headrest.

No, plucking a strand from his hair is a completely extreme sport. For all I know, his wolf can sense me standing here on the threshold between the large living room and the kitchen area.

I push the anger and weighing sense of defeat aside and walk into the bathroom we both share and look around at the white walls—if they could talk, they'll remind me of how many steamy lovemaking has happened here.

I have to know.

I have to know if Myron has been cheating on me. I need proof of his infidelity.

His brush is not here. He probably left it on the dresser in the bedroom. A quick glance at his figure still sleeping in the living room, I quickly make my way to the dresser, rescue a strand of his black hair and tuck it away in a separate rubber bag.

Trembling hands, a summersaulting heart and thighs that feel sore from scrubbing blood from it this morning, I steal across the bedroom and make for the door of the living room.

Half way to the door, Myron's aura encircles me and I freeze at the door, my hand suspended over the door handle.

“You know one thing about being alpha, Emerald?” his growl fills my head.

I swallow the lump in my throat and let my racing heart catch it's breath, and when I'm sure the color is back to my face, I turn slowly. “Myron, I didn't want to wake you.”

“That's it, Emerald. An alpha never really drops into it too hard. I smelled you from the moment you came in earlier—”

He gets off the couch, his dark eyes like two black holes, empty yet roiling with unfettered madness. He stands before me, broad shouldered, hands hanging free like a wolf about to pounce.

“And when you sneaked into the bathroom, I followed all your moves. Surely, you know this, don't you? You know I can sense your fear right now, your pulse is—” He raises both hands to make the gesture of drums beating. “—boom, boom, boom. What are you hiding in that bag?”

He rips the bag hanging from my shoulder off and backs away from me, an ugly sneer on his lips, teeth bared, eyes sparking with black fire.

Myron digs his hands in the bag, then he drops it on the floor and his hands begin to hunt in it, scattering my mini makeup kit, spilling jewelry and a sunglass. He looks up at me with a wicked smirk.

“Wouldn't have been surprised if I found a gun.”

“A gun?” I ask, frowning. “Why would I need a gun, Myron?”

“Yeah, we're vampires. Of course, a gun would do no good. Bitch, but you would like to see me gone, don't you? Where are you off to?”

Yes, Myron. The only thing standing between me and taking your life is the truth.

I have to know the truth. Out loud, I reply, “Back to the hospital. Bekim called in sick so I'm filling up for him.”

“Filling up for him,” he growls, bearing on me again. “Is that all you're doing out there in that hospital? Filling up for Bekim—does he full you up too?”

“Myron!”

“What? Bitch, what?!”

He grabs my shoulders, his grip like a vise breaks off the circulation within seconds and I wince in agony.

“Myron, please, you're hurting me.”

“Yeah? You had something to say, bitch! Say it!”

“I have n-nothing…please, Myron. I'm sorry—”

He let go and push me away so hard that I'm slammed against the wall. Something falls somewhere in my lower abdomen and my legs turn to water. Exquisite pain racks through my back, all the way to the back of my neck.

Slowly, and in great agony, I reach for my bag on the floor but he doesn't stop me. I feel his fiery eyes burn into the back of my head as I walk out of the door to the door, the small plastic bag with his hair and the boy Cilian’s.

My eyes are riveted to the rearview mirror as I drive past the street that leads to the hospital and head for the edge of town to Boston General.

I clasp my hands together to stop the terrible shaking as I wait for the result of the DNA test.

A decade ago, I would have to wait a couple of days but with new and advanced technology, the test will be ready under an hour.

My world is crumbling around me as I sit there on that hospital bench in that desolate hallway, sucking in the antiseptic air coming off the recently moped linoleum floor.

The balding doctor comes pokes his head through the door and hour later and asks me to come back in. He hands me the test results and my heart stops beating, my jaw on the floor at what I'm looking at.

“No—” I gasp. “No, Myron…”

The world is swimming before my eyes and I feel faint. The doctor asks me, “Are you okay, ma'am?”

“I just need a moment,” I reply, lowering myself on the closest chair.

Hot tears force themselves out of the corner of my eyes, my lips quiver and before long, I'm breaking down real bad. The doctor quietly stalks out of the room. He must be used to this sort of reaction, isn't he?

The tears stop falling and pure Lycan anger surge inside me but I rein in my aura to prevent it from reaching Myron wherever he is.

You've got some explaining to do, Myron!

I pick myself off the chair, grab my bag and like seeking lava from a volcano, I blaze out of the hospital.

I've had enough. I don't deserve being treated like dirt off the bottom of Myron's boots.

It ends tonight, Myron. The lies, the beatings, the abuse, the violence—it all ends tonight!

Down the gloomy hallway of the hospital with the broken florescent lights blinking on and off I stomp.

Something in the air shifts—the air tenses, the air on my arms spring up and the overhead lights suddenly become brighter to the point of exploding.

Someone behind me—I start turning around but that's as far as I get as something hard hits me on the back of the head. A flash of pain explodes in the nape of my neck and my lights go out.

Consciousness comes back to me slowly along with an odd feeling of exposure, as if I'm hanging out in the air. Bright light makes me wince as I turn my head to the side where sunlight is blasting from an open window.

I grimace at the unfamiliar light blue walls, the red curtains, the white sheets barely covering my bulbous breasts. I try to speak by my throat feels as though someone took a coat of paint mixed with sand to it.

I'm in a strange bed and I'm naked under the sheets, beside me is a man who isn't Myron. The man's face is turned away, and he's naked too, the sheets exposing his generously hairy crotch and a limp member. He is fast asleep.

Where am I? How did I get here?

The back of my head hurt when I touch it and that's when the memory comes back, hitting me across the chest like a hammer.

“Oh shit!” I yell.

I begin to hurry off the bed but the door bursts open and three of the people I least want to see me in this compromising circumstance pour into the strange bedroom: my husband Myron, Cliff his beta, and alpha Eli.