Sanctuary Series: The Road to Wolfe & Skye’s Sanctuary

Chapter 10

"What do you want?" I ask sharply, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring. "Have you come to your senses? Are you going to let me go?"

Wolfe stares at me, his expression unmoving. "My plans remain unchanged."

I throw my arms up in annoyance. "What plans? What exactly are you planning? Why do you want to keep me here?"

He walks farther into the room and then stops, looking at me silently. That's one personality trait of Wolfe's that can be both good and immensely frustrating. He doesn't say or do anything without purpose. Every move he makes is economical and purposeful. He's not one to just wander around, touching things, making idle conversation. He has reasons for everything he does, including being here with me now and keeping me here in the palace.

At first, he doesn't answer, as though he's gathering his thoughts. Then, he says, "You don't need to know that now. It will suffice that you will remain here. I'll let you know as things progress."

My eyebrows go up with my temper. "Excuse me? You'll let me know? Not good enough, Wolfe. I want to know what the f**k you're planning, and I want to know right now."

"No."

I grit my teeth and force myself to remain still so I don't storm over to him and throw a punch. Despite a year of training, fighting Primitives and sharpening my skills, I know that I'm still no match for Wolfe. He's spent a lifetime killing. Still, it might be worth it to see his face as I drive my fist into his stomach.

"You don't get to say no to me," I say furiously, pacing the room. "You don't get to take me away from my mission, tell me that I'm stuck here, and not give a reason. Try again."

"You don't need to know yet," he repeats himself.

"If that's as good as you're going to give me, then I'm telling you right now, I won't rest until I've made it out of this room, out of this palace and out of your damn city. I'm done with Santa Fe. I didn't want to come back, and I sure as hell don't want to be here now. This place holds nothing but rotten memories for me."

"That's not true." His voice is quiet, almost uncaring.

He's like a stone statue in the face of other people's emotions, including mine. A fact that has infuriated me from the moment I met him. Wolfe is as much my nemesis as he has been a soldier and friend at my side when I needed him.

He's right though. I'm lying to him and I'm lying to myself when I say that the city holds only bad memories. Some of the best moments of my life have happened here. But I don't want to think about them, I don't want to remember. It's too painful.

"You're still hung up on him, aren't you?" he growls, taking a step toward me. "It's time to let him go. Time to live your life without his shadow hanging over you."

"What do you know about that?" I demand sharply. "You didn't care about him. You stood aside, like some kind of unfeeling statue while he slowly died. You watched and did nothing. Then you left him here during the attack."

"You know as well as I, there was nothing to be done. His tumor was a death sentence."

"You could've made his life easier though." I know I'm not being reasonable, but I can't seem to stop. It's easier to blame Wolfe for everything. It's always been easier and I almost hate myself for doing it. "You just watched, you stood aside and watched, and I hate you for that."

"I know," he says, his voice warming ever so slightly as he steps toward me. "But you're smarter than that, smarter than to blame me for something that was inevitable." He steps up to me, not touching, but close enough to grab me if he wants to. "It wasn't him I was watching and I think you know that."

I tip my head back to glare at him, my grey eyes clashing with his single amber one. His face is a battleground of scars. I wonder if he grew the beard to make his visage more palatable for others to look at. I've never had a problem with the way he looks. In fact, his wrecked face matches his black heart. My own heart beats faster and my palms grow damp as his scent hits me. Wild, masculine, Wolfe.

He's an ugly murderous soldier, not someone I should be attracted to, but for some reason every part of me notices every part of him when he occupies the same room as me. It doesn't matter where we are or how many people separate us, I will always notice him first. It's always been this way. As much as I want it otherwise, our mutual attraction has been simmering below the surface for years, waiting to explode.

"Is that why I'm here?" I ask softly, stepping back from him. My ass hits the edge of the table and I'm forced to stop. I reach down to grip the wooden edge. "Now that you're Warlord, do you intend to keep me as your prize?"

He stares at me, that eye drilling into me, the scars on his face standing out in livid relief. His long hair is a wild mess of tangles around his shoulders.

"No."

That single word is like a bucket of cold water to the face. Though I should be relieved, I'm not. I'm the opposite. I'm so angered that my hand swings almost independently of my thoughts. Wolfe has the reflexes to stop me, but he doesn't bother. I slap him so hard that his head snaps to the side and his torso twists, just a fraction. He straightens slowly and looks down at me.

He takes a moment before he speaks, a moment for me to watch as my livid handprint makes its way across his cheek and grizzled jaw.

"You hit harder than you did a year ago," he says conversationally, as though I hadn't just hit him with all my strength. "That one was free. Don't hit me again."

I grit my teeth. "Then let me go."

"No." His answer is swift and uncompromising.

I send my fist slamming into his stomach, using every ounce of strength I have behind it. The air whooshes from him, but he doesn't move otherwise. He continues to stare at me, his body thrumming with an energy that mine answers. The air crackles around us and I can sense his intention before he acts. I try to escape, lunging to the side and hurtling away from the table.

He grabs the hair at the back of my head and yanks me into his chest. I gasp in pain and reach up to take hold of his wrist, digging my nails into the skin. He whirls me around, picks me up and slams me down on the table. My back hits hard and the breath rushes out of me in a whoosh.

I open my mouth to shout, but the sound is swallowed as he bends over me and slams his lips over mine. His kiss is fierce and painful, but intensely electric. Every nerve ending in my body stands up and screams as he kisses me, taking my jaw in his fist and forcing my mouth open before thrusting his tongue inside. It hurts, it dominates, it calls to me.

The moment he breaks the kiss, I slam my forehead into his nose. There isn't enough space between us for me to break his face, but I'm sure I got my point across. He grips me by the neck, slams me back down onto the table and covers my mouth with his. Blood is now flowing from his nose, trickling down his face and onto mine. I struggle to get away from him, trying to roll to the side, but his strength is so much greater than mine, I'm practically immobilized by his big body.

I choke as he thrusts his tongue back into my mouth. I try to snap my teeth shut, but again he grips my jaw and forces it open. I push on his chest and arms, but it's like a rabbit trying to escape a snare. Impossible. I'd have to chew off my own foot to get out.

After what feels like an eternity, he releases me and steps back. I roll off the table and fall to my knees. I only take a second to recover though, before I lunge to my feet and jump away from him. Using my sleeve, I swipe at the blood that dripped from his face onto mine. Wolfe stands staring at me passively, blood dripping slowly from his nose, over his lips and onto his chest. He doesn't try to stop the flow.

"You done?" His voice sounds gravelly and bored.

I don't bother answering verbally; he gets the hint when I yank a dagger out of the sheath on my thigh and run at him. When he reaches for me, I grab his wrist and fly underneath his arm, whirling against his back. I lift the dagger, intending to sink it into his side. It'll hurt like a b***h, but it won't kill him. He needs to understand that he can't f**k with me.

As I attempt to drive the knife home, he whips around and shoves me back, then slams his fist into my wrist, forcing me to drop the knife.

I stumble backward, about to go down when he catches me, lifts me against his chest Ð one hand around my waist and one at the back of my head Ð and brings his face down to mine.

"No, no, no!"

I try to twist my head away, but the hand at the back of my neck grips so tightly that I can't move. I'm forced to take yet another brutal assault as his lips cover mine in the simulation of a kiss. It's not a real kiss, because kisses don't feel this way. Kisses shouldn't hurt.

I wait him out and the moment he lifts his head, I attempt to slam my forehead into his nose again. But he's learned, he grips me by the back of the hair and drags my head back. He leans down and sinks his teeth into my neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark, but not breaking the skin. I shriek in anger and slam my fist into his shoulder. He doesn't let me go so I reach up and take hold of his hair, yanking.

He lets go of me, but only for a second. Only long enough for me to let go of his hair. Then he takes my hands in his and shackles my wrists behind my back in one of his huge paws. He uses his other arm to grip me underneath my breasts and lift me off the ground against his chest, my back pressed to his body. He drops his head into my neck and licks me.

"Let me go!" I shriek, struggling in his arms.

He lifts his head and presses his lips against the shell of my ear. His breathing hitches a little as he whispers, "That will never happen."

"Then I will never stop fighting you." I kick back at him, but he shifts and my leg flies past him.

He drops me and steps away. I whirl around, bringing my hand up with a gun in it. If he so much as sneezes at me I'm going to fill him with holes.

"Do it," he says quietly, stepping toward me.

I wipe my face with the back of my arm, trying to catch the blood he keeps smearing on my skin. "Don't think I won't."

He continues to walk toward me, his honey gaze now heated. I want to look away, but I know he'll use the opportunity to take me down again.

"Every time you try to fight me, I will kiss you." Even though he's spent the past ten minutes proving this statement, I almost don't believe him. Wolfe is a fighter, not a lover. He'd as soon kill a person as kiss them.

"But why?" I demand. "You've never shown any interest in me before."

"We both know that isn't true." There's a slight curl to his lips as though he's annoyed by my lie. His gaze drops to my weapon. "Put it away or I'll take it away, Skye. You aren't going to shoot me."

I growl and shove it back into my holster, whirling away from him and crossing my arms. I don't want him to see my face right now as I struggle with the truth. I hate him, but he's right. Wolfe was interested in me from the moment I called this palace home. His sharp gaze followed my every movement for years. He never acted on whatever was going on in that brain, but it was obvious that he held me in some kind of regard. Which is why I don't understand why he left me a year ago. I don't want to admit it, but that moment, when he walked away from me, was even more painful than the death of my husband.

"Where is my team?" I abruptly change the subject, trying to blink away the tears that have formed.

"They're my guests... for now."

"What does that mean?" I demand, turning back around to look at him.

"They're safe for now but will soon be asked to leave the city. I have offered them Sanctuary for the night and explained to them that you will no longer be a member of their party. Tomorrow, they will continue their journey and you will remain here."

"No," I gasp in dismay, then straighten my shoulders and add with conviction. "They won't leave without me."

He nods, unconcerned. "That seems to be the consensus among them. Regardless, they will leave tomorrow, and I will escort them personally. If they refuse to leave, then I'll make an example of their most belligerent member, a man who demands to know your whereabouts with annoying frequency."

"Deacon?"

Wolfe's thick brows lower into a frown, as though he's irritated by my uttering the other man's name. "Yes."

Fear punches me hard in the chest, taking my breath. It's a moment before I can speak again. "Please don't do this. They need me and they need Deacon. I'm their leader, they can't do this without me. And Deacon protects the team. If you keep me and kill him, you'll be dismantling our biggest hope of surviving the Primitives. The world needs that vaccine."

I allow him to see every emotion in my eyes, my earnestness, my belief in what I'm saying. But I already know his answer. I can see my future in the stony set of his features. I'm not going anywhere.

True to his personality, Wolfe says nothing more. He's already said it all and he won't repeat himself. He doesn't care about the vaccine; he doesn't care about the world.

"Can you please leave?" I whisper, my voice brittle with the tears that are now welling up and threatening to drip down my cheeks. The last thing I need is for Wolfe to see any weakness.

Without another word he turns and leaves.