Page 40 of New Blood

“So she must have had an owner.”

Wendell shrugged. “Probably. But she wasn’t microchipped and there was no contact phone number on her collar.”

“Well, she seems to be happy with you. Let me get some milk for her.” She turned to the fridge and opened it. “Or perhaps she prefers cream?”

She looked over her shoulder when she noticed Kitty looking into her eyes. The cat’s green eyes were hypnotizing. Almost human, she thought. She shook her head to shake off the odd feeling. Perhaps all cats had eyes like that. She’d never had a pet, and it was rare for any werewolf pack to keep cats, because many cats instinctively shied away from werewolves. They could sense the predator even when in human form.

“I think you might be onto something,” Wendell replied with a grin. “Perhaps you’ll cure Kitty of her aversion to women. One drop of cream at a time.”

She chuckled softly. “It’s worth a try.”

But she knew her words were a lie. She wouldn’t be here long enough for Kitty to get comfortable with her.

24

It was close to midnight, and the house was finally quiet. Many of the men had stayed up late, some talking behind closed doors, some relaxing over drinks in the living room. She’d seen Eve going to her room after dinner. Thaddeus had left after getting changed into slick black pants and a purple shirt, a leather jacket thrown over his shoulder. She’d heard the unmistakable sound of his Porsche’s engine when he’d sped down the driveway. She hadn’t heard him come back yet, and she would have, given that her room was right next to his.

She’d avoided Jude as much as she could and had succeeded, mostly because she’d been on kitchen duty and had volunteered to take care of the laundry so that Priscilla could spend the afternoon and evening in San Francisco, where she wanted to go shopping for a birthday present for her brother, Heath. She’d returned long after dinner and with lots of shopping bags that suggested that she had bought more than just a birthday present, but also clothes for herself.

Danielle packed her personal items into a large backpack that had enough space for several dresses, pants, shirts, and shoes, as well as some of her personal items, important photos and papers, and the cash her mother had left her. It had been lucky that neither the photos nor the cash had burned in the cottage fire, because she’d hidden them under a loose floorboard in the bathroom. She placed a selection of toiletry items in a plastic bag and shoved it into the backpack, then zipped it up. She didn’t have much more than when she’d arrived at the Gallaghers’ six years earlier.

Perhaps that was an indication that she hadn’t really gotten anywhere in that time. Or maybe it was simply a sign that she wasn’t somebody who accumulated stuff. That’s how she’d grown up: with only a few personal items that could all fit into a bag she could carry comfortably without having to accept help from anybody. A nomad, ready to move on when things got too challenging.

Did running away make her weak? Because she was running away. It didn’t matter that she was an adult and free to leave whenever she wanted. It still felt like she was running away like a thief in the night. Tomorrow, they would find her room empty, a letter on her nightstand addressed to Flora explaining why she was gone. She was taking Jude’s offer to let any pack member who didn’t want to remain under his leadership leave. No other explanation was required. Let them think what they wanted. It didn’t matter to her. She had to look out for herself.

Casting one last look over her shoulder, she opened the door a fraction and peered outside. The corridor was dark and empty. Cautiously, she snuck outside and pulled the door shut without making a sound. She was glad that the wooden floor in the corridor was covered with long rugs. They absorbed her footfalls now. Nevertheless, she treaded lightly, knowing that all werewolves had superior hearing, better than that of humans, and equal to that of vampires. A sound startled her and made her freeze in place, her heart pounding into her throat. But she realized that it was simply the sound this house made: the old wooden structure expanded during the day when it was warmer, and at night, when it got colder, the wooden planks contracted, causing them to creak.

Exhaling quietly, she headed for the stairs, the backpack on her shoulders suddenly feeling heavier. She felt perspiration build on her nape even though it wasn’t overly warm in the house. When she reached the top of the stairs, she held on to the banister and began to walk downstairs. At the first landing, she paused for a second and let her eyes roam, checking for light coming from the rooms that opened up to the foyer. She saw none and continued her descent.

Once in the foyer, she turned away from the front door. Opening the heavy door would make a sound that somebody might hear and come to investigate. Therefore, she walked in the opposite direction, past the kitchen and laundry room, toward the mud room with its door out the back. It was closer to the garage anyway.

She unlocked the door and exited, then pulled it shut behind her. Swiftly, she marched across the grassy area to the gravel path that led to the freestanding garage. It was never locked. There was no reason for it. Nobody robbed the Gallaghers and got away with it.

She pushed the barndoor-style gate to the left, rolling it just far enough for her car to get through. Her car was an old Toyota with far too many miles on it. It had been her mother’s, and she was glad she’d kept it; otherwise, she would have had to find another way to leave.

She opened the driver’s side door, then removed the backpack from her shoulder and swung it onto the passenger seat. Her keys in hand, she slunk into the driver’s seat and shut the door. She fumbled when she tried to stick the key into the ignition, dropping it between her feet.

“Fuck!” she hissed and bent down, searching for it with trembling fingers. Why couldn’t her car have an ignition that recognized that the key was nearby? Then she wouldn’t have to deal with the key.

She was sweating now, and her breath was ragged as if she’d run a race. Finally, her fingers found the key, she grasped it, and sat up straight again. She stuck the key into the ignition, put the right foot on the brake, and turned the key. The engine came to life. Far too loud for her liking. The car’s lights switched on at the same time.

“Fuck!”

The headlights illuminated a large figure that stood directly in front of the car’s hood, his face in the shadows, while his body was lit up in the spotlight.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she froze, not knowing what to do now. The man moved rapidly, and before she knew what was happening, he ripped the driver’s side door open.

“Turn the engine off! Now!”

Austin’s voice was menacing, and she didn’t dare resist. She turned the key in the ignition, and the engine died. Austin dipped his head lower to look at her while holding the door open.

“And where would you be going in the middle of the night?” he asked, a distrustful tone accompanying his voice.

“I, uh, I…”

She couldn’t form a complete sentence; hell, she couldn’t even form a complete word. Jude’s brother was intimidating, standing there, his body blocking her exit, his eyes scrutinizing her. He looked past her to the passenger seat.

“What did you steal?”