MoboReader> Horror > Bound

   Chapter 19 No.19

Bound By Julie Embleton Characters: 25854

Updated: 2018-02-11 12:02


". . . so wanting to prove them wrong, I went in." Dean paused his story, holding up the coffee pot to offer Nyah a top-up.

"Thanks, " she said, pushing her cup towards him. They were sitting at his kitchen table, the pale evening light sliding closer to twilight as they dawdled over dinner – another relaxing dinner, she mused, his promise to stop the interrogation being rigidly kept. She was quietly impressed, and relieved.

It was her fifth day in Carter Plains. The elusive Escape Plan/Opportunity hadn't presented itself to her yet, but she was quietly confident that any day now it would. Dean was continuing to be super cautious about leaving her alone though, making her wonder if he'd actually believed her lie about staying, and it looked like his freak-out over the voodoo revelation had been the one and only time he was ever going to leave her by herself. Nick had been drafted in as her official babysitter and in his absence, Kyle, Dean's Delta, took over. It was annoying, but she had to admit, both Nick and Kyle were nice guys, Nick especially, he had a wicked sense of humour that was staring to make her look forward to Dean's nightly runs when he would take over watching her. However hard she watched in return though, she could find no sliver of a moment when patrols around the house were at a minimum, or attention wasn't subtly trained on her every move.

You're not trying hard enough, a little voice reminded her. It was the voice of Narky Nyah, the Nyah who wanted her gone from Carter Plains before Simon could come and do his worst. Narky Nyah was right, of course, she knew damn well that every day she stayed in Dean's house was a day closer to trouble, and her snipped comments were becoming more frequent and less easy to ignore. Narky Nyah had her number; she knew Na?ve Nyah's desperation to leave was starting to wane.

Dean slid her cup back towards her. Meal times, she realized, were fast becoming another favourite time, too. Dean had busy days; he spent hours in his office with his Alpha duties, meaning it was only when they sat down to eat together when they got to talk. And boy, did they talk – about everything that wasn't her screwed up life, of course – but everything else was fair game, like the story he was telling her now, the story about when he was younger and his friends had dared him to have his palm read by a fortune teller at a fair. Real fortune tellers had a gift which enabled them to see the truth that supernatural beings could hide and she knew that the outcome of his childhood dare wasn't going to be a good one, so blocking out the thought of how she was going to miss their chatter, she picked up her cup and focused on him.

"I had no idea she was the real thing, " he continued, now filling his own cup. "I was so sure she was just going to feed me some nonsense about marriage, kids and travel – you know, the usual stuff."

Nyah nodded, watching as his face softened with a growing smile. He looked up at her and she found herself smiling back.

"She told me to sit opposite her, " he grinned, resting his forearms on the table, "and then she asked for my hands, so -" He gestured towards her hands which were occupied with cradling the coffee cup, but intrigued by his story she quickly put it down and slid her hands, palm up, across the table towards him.

"I let her take hold of them, " he carried on, sliding one hand under each of hers. "At first, she just held them loosely – like this." He demonstrated the gentle hold the fortune teller had used that day and although still caught up in the story Nyah registered the heat from his palms and how her own smaller hands nestled so comfortably inside of his.

"But she obviously got a sense of something, because -." He started to laugh then, and she joined him, giggling as his grip increased and he mimicked the shocked expression the unsuspecting fortune teller had worn. "Her face, " he started to say, "she -, " but laughter had taken hold of both of them, and although he wanted to carry on with the story and she wanted to hear it, they were both infected by the hilarity and found they couldn't stop.

It was then when Nyah felt it. Something happened deep inside her. Something clicked, snapped or switched on. Something changed. Suddenly, she could feel her wolf, feel a trace of her presence uncurl from whatever fathomless place she had been hidden in. Before she could react, something even more incredibly powerful hit her.

Dean still had a hold of her hands and a river of heat burst from where his skin touched hers, surging up her arms, spreading out across her chest and swelling through her entire body. Tiny invisible chains began to form, their links snapping together as they whipped unseen from somewhere inside of her towards Dean, binding him to her, locking him to her. And then his scent hit her – the most delicious, enchanting aroma she had ever experienced swirled inside her head, taking her breath away.

It had taken milliseconds. Dean was still laughing, she was too; the connection had happened so fast that her brain hadn't even cottoned-on to what was exploding inside her body. Nyah had always quietly assumed that Tanya's supermarket encounter with Alan had been greatly embellished. But now she knew better. Tanya's description wasn't anyway near what she had felt, because no words could describe what connecting with your mate felt like. Mate. The single word slammed through her brain and she fell suddenly silent.

So did Dean. His laugh stopped abruptly. He didn't move. He froze, in entirety. She even heard his breathing stop. He could feel it, too.

Suddenly, she wanted to be closer to him. She wanted to shove the table and chairs aside and fling herself against him. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her and draw her closely against him. She wanted to be close enough to dissolve into his skin. And she wanted to kiss him - badly. Her heart was hammering madly in her ears as she stared, transfixed at his handsome face. His brilliant blue eyes were burning into her, his full lips slightly parted as he continued to remain perfectly still. She belonged to him, he belonged to her, and the need to be touching him was starting to hurt.

"Taylor. . . "

The spell broke. Snatching away her hands she shoved back her chair and jumped up. It was gone, the overwhelming passion had gone. He was just Dean again; Dean, the Alpha who wouldn't let her leave – the Alpha who had worked some magic on her – just like Simon. "What – what did you do to me?" she choked out, backing away towards the wall. "What did you do to me?!"

"Taylor -." Dean stood up, moving towards her carefully, an expression of pain tightening his face. "What you felt – it was – we're. . ."

"You're just like him!" she screamed. "You did something to me, you made me feel something! You're twisted, just like him!"

"No, Taylor, no!"

She staggered away from his outstretched hand. "Don't you touch me!" she yelled. "Keep your filthy, poisonous hands away from me!"

"I would never hurt you, Taylor, " he said gently, not moving any closer. "What you felt was not magic, it was real, it was – it was. . . don't you see?" he pleaded with her. "We're mates, we belong together, what you felt was our connection."

"No." Nyah shook her head furiously. "You did something to me, when you touched me, when you held my hands, you did something."

"You were laughing, " he tried to explain. "You were happy, and it made your wolf surface, I could feel her, and then we connected. Our wolves connected – we're mates, Taylor."

"No."

"Yes."

She bolted. Dashing from the kitchen she flew into the hall and took the stairs two at a time. Bursting through her bedroom door she grabbed her bag and quickly shoved the few loose clothes lying on the chair into it.

"What are you doing?" Dean rushed to her side and tried to grab the bag from her, but she ducked aside and shot back out the door again, her feet stumbling dangerously on the stairs as she charged down towards the front door. There was no-one on the front porch when she flung open the door, or at least, no-one tried to stop her when she sprung off the top step and landed neatly on the path. She knew she had no chance of outrunning anyone, but that wasn't going to stop her from trying.

She hadn't even made it off the lawn when a strong arm encircled her and lifted her clean off her feet. "I'm not letting you leave, " Dean barked at her. "You're my mate, and I won't let you go!"

"Put me down!" Nyah squirmed and kicked, but he hefted her into a tighter grip and wheeled back towards the house. "Let me go!" she screamed.

"No. Never."

With her back pressed tightly to his chest she struggled in vain as he kicked the front door shut behind him. "I'll put you down, " he warned, "but if you try to run off again I'll bring you back every time." Without releasing his hold he lowered her until her feet were on the hall floor. "Don't try to run, " he warned her again. He let go.

Before she could reach the front door she was off the ground again, twisting ineffectually in his grasp, her heels landing hard against him as she strained out towards the handle. Spinning her away from the door, he didn't reply to her protests and screams of abuse, but simply held her against him until she fell still. When he set her back down she tried again. It was pointless, the sober part of her brain knew that, but the panicked part kept telling her to run, run, run.

"Stop, " he said patiently, as she stretched for the handle again, deciding to carry her out of the hall entirely, away from the door which led to her freedom. Seeing it move from her reach bolstered her strength. Nyah landed a sharp kick to his shin, tearing a hiss from his mouth.

"Stop fighting me!" he yelled.

"Let me go!" she screamed back, even louder. "Let me go!"

"No, I'm not letting you leave!"

"Put me down, let me go!"

No, stop – stop fighting me, stop – Nyah!"

This time when she stilled and he put her down she didn't try to run.

"You – you know my name, " she panted, turning to face him, swallowing hard as she backed away from him towards the foot of the stairs. Her heels hit the riser of the bottom step and she stopped, one hand blindly grabbing for the banister. "How do you know my name?"

"You told me, " Dean sighed, a heavy, defeated sigh that visibly deflated him.

"No I didn't, " she replied quietly.

"Yes, you did, " he corrected her. "You don't remember because you were asleep."

Nyah felt her knees weaken and she sank onto the stairs, one hand still gripping the banister above her head.

"The first night you were here your wolf surfaced, " he confessed.

"What?"

Dean lowered himself onto his hunkers before her and she instinctively leaned back away from him.

"It's happened a few times – when you've been sleeping. And I felt her earlier, too – when we were talking. I think it happens when you're relaxed, or happy, maybe."

Nyah stared disbelievingly at him even though she knew he was telling the truth. Her wolf had surfaced at dinner, she had felt it, and she couldn't deny it, but yet. . .

"The first time it happened, " he said, "was when I felt our connection. I've known we're mates since your first night here."

"No, we're not, " she insisted. "We are not mates."

"You felt it, " he said.

"No – I felt. . . it wasn't that. It can't be."

"I saw the way you looked at me."

Nyah squeezed her eyes shut. "It's not real. It can't be, and I don't feel it now, so. . ."

"It was the same for me at first, but now it's there all the time. It's not something magic that I did to you; it's real, Nyah."

"Stop saying my. . ." With a frustrated grunt, Nyah flashed her eyes open to throw an accusatory stare at him. "How did you find out what my name is?"

"You told me, " he repeated gently.

"In my sleep, " she confirmed angrily. "You've been interrogating me while I've been sleeping – ever heard of the word manipulation?"

"It's not how you think. It didn't happen that way."

"Yeah? I just happened to be thrashing about in the bed yelling out my name, was that it?"

"No."

He was remaining irritatingly calm as he continued to hunker before her. His hands were loosely clasped together, but every now and then one hand would free itself and reach for her. And every time it did she reeled back.

"On your second night here your wolf surfaced again. I tried to ignore it, but my wolf was so desperate to be close to you that I nearly phased. I went into your room, I went no further than the end of your bed, but when I was standing there, feeling totally frustrated, I said I wished I knew what your name was. I was talking out loud, not actually asking you, but you heard and. . . you told me."

And there was no way he had just left it at that sing

le question either, she guessed. "What else did you ask me?"

"Your pack name."

"Did I tell you?"

He nodded once.

She couldn't work her mouth to ask him what else he had found out, but the hang-dog look he was wearing made it pretty obvious.

"I couldn't let it go, " he admitted softly, pre-empting the next question. "I had to ask."

Nyah closed her eyes. "I can't believe you did that, " she breathed. The magnitude of his actions swelled hotly inside her, but when she opened her eyes to tell him he was nothing but a stupid, interfering idiot, he looked so miserable that the words of anger died on her tongue. His face was sagging with remorse and when he reached out to her again she found she couldn't yank her hand away.

"I'm not going to say I'm sorry, because I'm not, " he said. "You're my mate, and I will do whatever it takes to protect you." He slowly slid his hand over hers and when she didn't pull away he let out a relieved breath.

"Just please tell me you didn't call him, or anyone else from my pack, " she pleaded, looking up to meet his remorseful eyes. "If he finds out I'm here. . ."

His contrite expression suddenly morphed back into his more familiar Alpha one, the 'I'm in control, so don't worry' one, and whatever fear she thought she had been feeling up to that point was nothing compared to what crawled into her at that moment.

"He rang here, looking for you."

Nyah's slick palm slid from the banister with a small squeak before it fell heavily into her lap.

"He has no idea you're here. I told him the only rogue who had passed this way was a Taylor and he corrected me straight away, said his rogue was a female. He has no idea, Nyah, no idea at all that you're here."

"He'll find out, " she croaked in reply.

"I'll be ready for him."

She shook her head. "No you won't. You'll never be ready for Simon Northfell."

"Nick and I have a plan, okay? We've doubled the patrols and I've been researching. . ."

His words faded as it all began to play out in her mind – what would happen once Simon Northfell came. First there would be confusion when communication with the patrols would suddenly cease. Then there would be anxious orders, and pack members, like Nick and Kyle, would tear into the forest. They would vanish within seconds and Dean would experience the violent silencing of the mind-link. He'd start shouting, directing pack members into the safety of their homes – except they wouldn't be safe at all. And then Simon would arrive. He would materialize in the thick of the panic, his pinched face calmly smug. Dean would rush him. And with a flick of a wrist or perhaps a click of fingers, Dean would be on the ground. Or maybe not. Maybe he would turn to face her, his eyes flat and dull, his limbs responding to Simon's orders as he grabbed for her.

"Nyah – Nyah!"

Dean's shake reeled her back and cold was suddenly sliding through her. Icy blood crept through her veins, her skin goose-bumping so severely that every inch of her stung. When she tried to speak, her jaw remained tightly clamped, the muscles frozen stiff. "Co - cold, " she stammered

Dean whipped his jumper off, drew it over her head and gently guiding her hands inside the arms, slid it down over her body. He scooped her up into his arms so fast that her head spun, and grabbing onto the fabric of his t-shirt she buried her head into his chest.

Simon Northfell's face had fixed itself in her mind. He was sneering, his black eyes glistening with delight as she saw him wiping out Dean's pack. Images of Ellie and her children crumpling to the ground flashed before her and she squeezed her eyes tighter, willing the horrific images to stop. They refused, however, Simon's face continued to leer at her before it slowly morphed into Dean's face, and just like before, he was emotionless as he dragged her, screaming, towards Simon. Then Simon was wrenching her away, reminding her that they had pups to conceive, and Dean was watching her go, his face slack, his mind obliterated.

"Drink this, Nyah, here, drink this."

A waft of alcohol stung the insides of her nostrils and she felt the thin, cool rim of a glass being tipped against her lips. "Drink it, " he ordered. She parted her lips and allowed the liquid to wash over her tongue and trickle down her throat. It was brandy. It scalded her throat, but the heat felt good inside her and she took another sip when he tipped the glass against her lips for the second time. The fiery liquid eased the tremble in her limbs and as the heat spread throughout her the frightening images evaporated.

She was on the couch, Dean beside her, holding her tightly in his arms, his lips pressed to the top of her head. "It's okay, " he soothed, "it's okay, I won't let anything happen to you."

"You won't be able to stop him, " she murmured against his chest, her voice having difficulty making its way through her tight throat. "You've no idea what he's capable of."

"Shh, " Dean soothed, pulling her even tighter into his body. "I'll protect you."

"No, you're not listening to me."

Nyah sat up, but didn't move away from him. She was starting to feel a trace of the overwhelming urge to be close to him again. It surprised her; her wolf had returned to its abyss of a prison so she really shouldn't have been feeling anything, but it was there, nudging her gently, pestering her to stay physically close to him. Briefly closing her eyes to gather her distracted thoughts, she pulled in a breath. "Listen to me. I've seen what he can do. He turned my pack members into robots with his evil magic. Their faces were blank, their minds were empty, he just. . . turned them off. And they did whatever he ordered." Dean began shaking his head in argument, but she carried on before he could tell her it wouldn't happen to him. "Dean, I've seen it. He can make people do whatever he wants. Karen and Blake - they were wearing necklaces and it made them do everything he ordered. They didn't even know who I was. If he put one of those necklaces on you, you'd kill me if he ordered –."

"Don't you dare talk that way, " he cut in angrily, tightening his already fierce grip on her. "I would never hurt you, never."

"You wouldn't have a choice, " she replied, grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt. "If he -."

"No-one could ever make me hurt you. You're my mate. It would be completely impossible for -."

"But that's it, Dean! It's not impossible, not at all. What he did in Blackwater Ridge was like something you'd see in a horror movie, but it wasn't make-believe, it was real. Look what he did to me, " she said, slamming her hand to her chest. "He took my wolf! If he can do that he can do anything!"

His mouth opened to argue, but then fell shut again.

"You know I'm right, " she said softly. "I know you want to protect me, but you have to understand you're no match for him. No-one is."

Dean released one of her arms to run the backs of his fingers down the side of her face. His gentle touch sent a shiver of warmth through her, making her want to close her eyes and curl against him again.

"Simon may never come here, " he said. "He may never find you."

"He will. He needs me."

"He needs you?"

Nyah let her self-reprimand out with a heavy sigh. Would she ever learn to keep her damned mouth shut?"

"He needs you for what?" Dean asked slowly, his tone covering the 'and you'd better tell me' warning that went with his question.

"You promised me you'd ask no more questions, " she reminded him, releasing her hold on his t-shirt.

"Nyah. . ."

"No. You already know too much."

"Too much? That's a joke, right?"

Nyah slid away from him, burying her face in her hands as she sagged back into the couch. He was quick to take her wrists and gently pull her hands away.

"What does he need you for? What's he planning on doing? Is this why he buried your wolf?"

"No more questions!" she wailed, snatching back her hands and moving to push herself off the couch.

"Whoa." Dean beat her to it and before she could stand up he was kneeling on the floor in front of her, the fronts of his thighs pushing against her knees and his hands slamming against the back of the couch so she was trapped between his arms. "All promises are off, " he said sharply. "Enough of this drip-feeding me information. You're going to tell me exactly what's going on."

"No I'm not, " she replied, looking him square in the eyes. "You have no idea how much danger I've already put you in. If I tell you any more you're only going to be in deeper."

"And what about you? You're in more danger than anyone else right now. How am I supposed to help you if I don't know the truth?"

"You don't need to know everything."

"I do!"

"No, you don't. There's nothing you can do about any of it anyway, so just let it go."

She squirmed forwards, but he put one hand on her shoulder and held her back.

"That bastard has done the worst thing imaginable to you, and you think I should let it go? You're my mate, Nyah. I will never let it go, not until he's shredded into pieces at my feet!"

A knock on the front door brought their erupting argument to a pause.

"That's Nick, " Dean muttered. "Dammit – he's here for the new walkie-talkies."

Nyah folded her arms and sat back. Perfect timing, Nick, she thought gratefully. Dean frowned at her and sighed.

"Look after Nick, " she said. "Go on."

"This conversation is not over, " he warned her, getting to his feet and backing out of the room. "So stay there – do not move, " he ordered with a pointing finger.

As he hurried upstairs, calling out to Nick and telling him to come on in, Nyah pulled up her legs and let her forehead drop heavily onto her knees. Someone's having a laugh, she decided; The Fates, The Powers That Be, whoever it was that nudged the world and its inhabitants about like little chess pieces on a board. Not content with throwing her life into a frightening and complicated mess, they had now decided, just to spice things up a little, to add her mate into the mix.

If Simon so much as got a whiff of the fact that Dean was her mate he'd kill him. And do it with her watching, too – just to teach her a lesson. The thought of it made her shiver hard and she huddled tighter. Now, more than ever, she had to get out of Carter Plains. She was only barely skimming the surface of their mate connection, whereas Dean was in deep, and if he was right about how it had been getting stronger for him, wasn't there a chance it would happen to her too? How hard would it be to leave then? Na?ve Nyah tentatively raised her hand to ask a question: If being happy was making her wolf re-surface wasn't it possible that in a few weeks she may be fully restored? Yes, Narky Nyah snipped in reply. And what damn good would that do? Simon would still come calling and Dean would still die. Stop being selfish. Get out of here before your connection prevents you. How, though? How in the hell was she going to get out of here? If Dean was being Mr Super-Watchful up to now, tonight's revelations would push him into overdrive.

"Dean, you got the new walkie-talkies?"

Nyah lifted her head and twisted around on the couch to see Nick standing in the doorway of the living room. He frowned at her, threw a quick glance around the room and gave an awkward laugh. "Sorry, Taylor, I thought you were Dean."

She smiled at his reddening face.

"It's – I got his scent. You're wearing his clothes, " he explained, pointing towards the dark blue jumper swamping her frame. "Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you."

He backed out of the room just as Dean came down the stairs. They spoke for a few short moments in the hall and then Nick was gone again. When Dean came back into living room Nyah was on her feet.

"Do we have to talk about this tonight?" she pleaded.

"I knew you'd do this, " he sighed, trailing his fingers through his hair. "Just like I know you won't talk about it tomorrow either."

She shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm tired. And I don't want to end up having another yelling match with you."

Dean came to where she stood and opened her arms, clutching her hands against his chest with one hand while tilting her chin up with the other so she would look him in the eye. "I will protect you, Nyah. I need you to understand that."

Like I need you to understand how much Simon will hurt you, she wanted to say in return. Instead, she nodded and he leaned towards her to gently press a kiss to her forehead.

Five minutes ago she would have flung her arms around him and brought his mouth to her own, dragged him over to the couch and allowed the need she had felt for him to overpower her. But five minutes ago their pending separation was something hovering way off in the distance. Five minutes ago she didn't have her Escape Plan.

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