Emmitt’s Treasure: Judgement of the Six Companion Series, book 2
Emmitt’s Treasure: Chapter 7

It took an hour before I was walking like usual. As soon as I could move without groaning, I went upstairs. My intent to work even harder on the new place evaporated at the soft sound of Michelle crying from within her apartment. So I sat on the landing and just listened. I’d given an already frightened woman more reason to fear, and I hated myself for it.

At some point, it started to rain. The normally soothing sound just seemed a depressing backdrop to her pain. It took a long time before she quieted. With a heavy heart, I went into the apartment and started looking at what needed to be done to tile the bathroom floor.

Sometime around dawn, I heard movement across the hall. The heavy sigh and a partially pained groan worried me. I jogged downstairs and grabbed some aspirin Winifred kept on hand for Mom. With the two pills in my hand, I sped upstairs and knocked on Michelle’s door.

The movement inside stilled, but the door didn’t open.

I knocked again. This time I heard feet slowly crossing the carpet. Then, I caught the rapid beat of her heart and the scent of her fear through the door. The ache in my chest grew with my helplessness.

When she opened the door, the sight of her puffy, red eyes had me stepping forward. I needed to comfort her…to bring back a measure of peace she’d only just started to replace here.

“Michelle, I’m sorry.”

She stood still as I held her in my arms. She didn’t struggle or try to push me away. After a moment, her pulse jumped into high speed and her scent changed to one of shock. Why shock? Because of the hug?

“Give me three weeks,” I begged. “Stay. Give me a chance. Get to know me. If you can’t accept me after three weeks, I will help you go wherever you want to keep you safe from whoever you’re running from.”

She pulled away. I would have rather had another knee to the nuts than let her go, but I released her. She took a step back and eyed me. I could see she was thinking, deciding something. But what?

“What are you?” she asked.

The question relieved my growing hopelessness. She was giving me a chance.

“The most common name would be werewolf, but we’re not the ones from legend. Not really.”

She paled, and I hurried to explain.

“We change when we want to, mostly as a defense, not because of the moon. We eat like everyone else. Pancakes rank as my favorite food, in case you haven’t noticed.” I didn’t mention it was my new favorite because of her mouthwatering scent when she felt the pull toward me. “We’re the same as humans, but enhanced. I hear better, see better, can move faster, am stronger, and heal rapidly. And I’m not an organ donor for obvious reasons.”

I stopped and waited. She wasn’t saying anything or reacting to what I said.

Behind her, Aden softly called her name, a signal to end our conversation, but I didn’t want to leave yet.

“It’s supposed to rain today,” I said quietly. “I pulled a few more games from the basement if you want me to bring them up.”

She shook her head. Knowing I needed to give her some space, I left. It wasn’t easy, though.

Jim was out in the hall.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

I did. With my life. So I nodded.

“Go work in the garage for a while.” He patted my shoulder before going into the apartment across the hall.

Frustrated, I rubbed my forehead and jogged down the steps.

Winifred was there with the promised cookies.

“You’re letting him talk to her?” she asked, holding up the plate.

I took two and ate each in a single bite.

“I doubt he can make it worse,” I said after I swallowed.

Winifred made a non-committal noise, and I headed out the door into the light rain. A sound from the balcony drew my attention. Jim was standing on the third floor’s covered porch. He saluted me and turned to listen to whatever discussion was happening in Michelle’s apartment. I could faintly hear Aden’s voice but couldn’t make out the words with the closed windows and distance.

Within the depths of the garage, I paced. Nothing felt right. I wanted to howl in frustration at how things had turned out. But really, what had I expected? Open arms? Shouts of joy? A knee to the nuts should have been on the top of the list, along with outright rejection.

Jim moved away from her door, turning the corner just as Michelle stepped out onto the porch. She leaned against the railing and eyed the vehicles. It didn’t take a mental link to know what she was considering. She was thinking of running. I stopped pacing and misery gripped me. She couldn’t. Not yet. I needed a chance.

Jim stepped around the porch, walking toward her.

“I wouldn’t have told you,” I heard him say.

She whirled to face him.

“I would have waited for the fear in your eyes to leave. I would have given you a chance to know me better.” He leaned on the rail beside her and looked at me. “But not telling you felt like a lie to Emmitt. And he couldn’t stand lying to you.”

She looked at both ends of the porch. Did she think I was hiding around a corner, too? Was she that afraid of me? And why only me?

“Why isn’t she kicking you in the nuts?” I said softly.

“It’s just me,” he said, glancing at her. Then he nodded toward me. “He’s in there.” He waited a few seconds before speaking again. “So, are you going to stay?”

“Why should I?” she asked.

“Because I can’t live without you,” I said even though she couldn’t hear me.

Jim ignored me.

“Because whoever you’re running from is still out there. Here, you’re safe, whether you believe it now or not. Because we care about you…he cares about you.”

She didn’t say anything in response to that.

Jim straightened and looked at her, keeping his serious expression.

“Can I have some cereal, too?” he asked.

I shook my head as, from within the apartment, Aden shouted his approval.

“Go ahead,” she said.

She stayed on the porch for several minutes, staring down at the garage. I knew she couldn’t see me. But was she thinking about what Jim said? About me? I hoped so. And, I hoped Jim’s talk had helped her understand this was where she was meant to be.

She turned away and went back inside, leaving the door partially open so I could hear every giggle as Jim played with the boys throughout the morning.

Frustration and boredom drew me inside to the apartment across the hall where I listened to Jim play with the cubs, while wishing it was me in there. I worked for several hours before I couldn’t stand it anymore and went to the hallway.

“What exactly is your plan?” I said, knowing Jim would hear me even though Michelle’s door was closed.

From inside, the playing quieted.

“I better get going,” Jim said, eliciting disappointed sounds from the boys. “Yeah, I know. Sorry guys. But I think Emmitt needs my help.”

I shook my head and started walking downstairs. It didn’t take long for him to join me in his apartment.

“So your plan was to play all morning?” I said, going to the fridge. I threw some stuff onto the counter and Jim got the plates so we could make sandwiches.

“Yep. And to not get kicked in the nuts. I’d say it was a successful mission.”

“Jim, leave Emmitt be,” Winifred said, coming into the apartment. “How was she?”

“Nervous. Scared. But the longer I was up there, the more she relaxed. I think she’ll stay.”

“Why do you think that?” Winifred asked.

I knew why, and I hated it.

“Because she has nowhere else to go,” I said with a heavy heart. I didn’t want to trap her here; I wanted her to want to be here.

“Then we need to give her a reason to want to stay,” Winifred said in her no nonsense way. “Keep working in the apartment. You’ll make it a home.”

I nodded. Jim followed me up the steps, and we spent the next few hours working. The sounds from the apartment across the hall kept distracting me. The kids were growing bored, and Michelle was sounding at the end of her rope.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jim said when I took a step toward the hall.

“Why not?”

“She’s not ready to face you yet.”

“How do you know?”

Jim inhaled deeply and remained quiet. I inhaled, too. It was still there. Her fear.

“Fine. Go see if she’ll let you help her.”

Jim nodded, and I left the apartment. We’d done enough work on the new place for the day, and I didn’t want to be in there, listening to another play session. When I reached the bottom stair, I heard the boys run out onto the third floor landing. They cheered as they scampered down the steps and out the front door.

Shaking my head, I went to wash up. I’d just turned off the water when Jim yelled from upstairs.

“Michelle’s making dinner.”

Jim wasn’t subtle about anything, and I got his message loud and clear. I needed to get up there and help her. In seconds, I was dressed and in the hall.

As Jim raced down the stairs, he spoke softly.

“She’s stressed and exhausted and ready for a really big glass of wine.”

I went back into the apartment and took the bottle from the fridge. Since Jim preferred beer, I wasn’t sure why he had it. And I probably didn’t want to know.

With the wine in one hand, I raced up the stairs. My pulse sped at the thought of seeing her again. I stopped at her apartment door to knock, but forgot to when I saw her.

She was standing with her back to the living room as she stared at the contents of her refrigerator. Her dark hair was pulled back into her customary ponytail, but it wasn’t as smooth as usual. Little wisps had escaped. She turned her head slightly so I could see her profile. Jim was right. She did look tired.

She closed the refrigerator then opened the freezer and removed a large package of meat.

“Can I help?” I asked from the door.

She glanced over her shoulder to look at me. The pose, the angle of her head…I swallowed hard. She was so beautiful. So humanly fragile. So mine.

When she frowned and looked like she would say no, I quickly held up the bottle and hoped Jim knew what he was talking about.

“I also brought wine. Jim said you needed it.”

“One glass,” Winifred called up the stairs.

Michelle’s lips twitched at Winifred’s words. Seeing an emotion other than fear or worry had me responding with a grin and a wink. Then, Michelle surprised me further by nodding.

My pulse leapt again as I stepped into the apartment and made my way to the kitchen. Her humor faded, and she watched me warily. I pretended not to notice and didn’t let it destroy the moment. She’d let me in, and I was coming to realize it was two steps forward and one step back with her. She was prickly like that. It just meant any progress with her would be slow.

Finding the biggest glass in the cupboard, I set it on the counter and filled it to the top with wine. It would give Michelle the chance to drink as much as she wanted without me disobeying Winifred.

When I glanced at Michelle, I saw her worried look. Did she think I was trying to get her drunk?

“You don’t have to drink any,” I said.

She responded by picking up the glass and taking a large swallow before removing the meat she’d put in the microwave. I stood back and just watched her for a moment, basking in her company and her scent. I especially liked the way she moved. Slow and sure. My gaze fell to her long legs—I needed to thank Winifred for the cutoff shorts. Realizing the direction of my appreciative gaze and thoughts, I cringed. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be riding Michelle’s knee again.

When she tossed an onion my way, my gaze was properly on her face once more. We worked side by side to make the meatloaf for dinner. The smell of the food wasn’t enough to cover her emotions, which seemed to shift with each sip of wine. She had something on her mind, and I kept quiet, hoping she’d realize she could talk to me. About anything.

But when she did speak, I wasn’t ready for what she said.

“He locked them in their room when he got tired of them.”

We both froze. I could smell her surprise as I struggled with my anger. I wanted to know who locked them in their rooms, but knew now wasn’t the time to push for more information.

I quickly washed the food from my hands then turned her to face me. Her cheeks were flushed; from the wine or what she said, I couldn’t be certain.

I remained quiet, waiting for her to look up. When she did, she kept talking, a small sign of trust.

“My mom died just after Aden was born. My stepfather, their dad, died two days before I saw you at that diner. I’m all my brothers have. I won’t let them be locked in a room again.”

“David will never get the chance,” I promised. If I ever saw him again, he was a dead man.

Something flitted across her features. I lightly breathed in and tasted her confusion as she studied me with a slight frown.

“I’m not afraid of David,” she said before she turned away and poured the rest of the glass of wine into the sink. The move signaled the topic was now closed, and I wished she wouldn’t have shut me out.

She put the meatloaf in the oven then brought out a bag of potatoes. When she handed me a few, I washed them for her. Although I knew she was done talking, I still had so many questions. If it wasn’t David she feared, then who? Who locked her brothers in a room? Who was after my Mate? Who were Blake and Richard?

Not ready for another unmanning, I kept my mouth shut. So did she. And she remained quiet all through dinner. As soon as we all finished eating, she asked to clean up alone. I hated leaving her—it felt like losing ground—but did as she asked.

Downstairs, Aden and Jim challenged Liam and me to races. Wolf style, but no fur. Winifred scolded his wording but didn’t say a thing when he got down on all fours and started racing around the porch.

When I gave her a questioning look, she shrugged.

“Little bits of information at a time can sometimes help ease a transition.”

I wondered if she knew Jim had said something very similar to me. Most likely not. She didn’t like when Jim sounded like an Elder, or was right.

I looked down at Liam, whose gaze was bouncing between Winifred and me. Ruffling his hair, I dropped to my knees.

“Hang on to my shirt because we’re going to win.”

He grinned and climbed onto my back.

We’d only managed a few official laps when I heard Michelle on the stairs. I almost stopped, but Liam’s heels dug into my sides in an effort to keep me moving.

“Ready for them to come up to bed?” I heard Winifred ask.

“Not yet,” Michelle said. “Could you watch them a little longer? I was hoping Emmitt and I could go for a ride.”

I put on a burst of speed to round the third corner as Winifred answered.

“You smell like wine. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Winifred, you’re killing me.

If she’s drunk, do you think it’s wise to have any type of serious conversation?

Serious? No. Conversation? Yes. This means she’s willing to listen, and I don’t want to throw a chance away.

“It’s the only one I have.”

Michelle’s soft, desperate words had me racing for the next bend.

“Of course, I’ll watch them,” Winifred said.

I turned the corner just as she added, “I’ll put them to bed for you, too.”

Stopping before the women, I let Liam climb off then rose to my feet. The boy looked up at me with a disgruntled expression, and I mussed his hair with a smile.

“This doesn’t mean they won. We’ll just need to race them again tomorrow. Okay, bud?”

He nodded and reluctantly went to sit by Winifred.

Meeting Michelle’s gaze, I held out my hand. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked ready to run back inside. Yet, she remained where she was, watching me steadily. Winifred was right, she did smell like wine. That meant she’d drunk more after sending us all outside. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Was the wine to give her temporary courage or was it a sign that she wasn’t able to deal with who we were?

Michelle glanced at my hand, then at her brother.

“Nana will watch you, Liam,” she said, as she placed her hand in mine.

The feel of her skin against mine sent a shiver of need through me. No matter what her reason for drinking, I wanted her to myself for a while. I tugged her hand and led her to the bike. Her pulse raced, a quick cadence easy to hear in the silence of the evening. The beat of my heart increased to echo hers because tonight’s ride would be different. She would hold me.

I released her hand to quickly mount the bike. She used me for balance as she got on behind me. When she tried reaching back to hold the bar, I stopped her.

“No holding the bar this time. Hands around me so I know you’re still with me.”

I started the bike as she nodded and reached forward. The tentative slide of her hands around my waist had me clenching my teeth. I wanted more. More contact. More time. More everything. She scooted forward on the seat so her front almost touched my back and the flat of her hands pressed against my stomach.

Glancing at the porch, I caught Winifred studying me.

Make it work, Emmitt, she sent to me.

I gave a slight nod and slowly pulled out of the garage. Behind me, Michelle waved to her brothers.

Once we reached the end of the driveway, I signaled left and settled in for an easy ride. The feel of her arms wrapped around my waist had me floating. Occasionally, her fingers would move and send a new jolt of awareness through me. My head knew I’d recently dropped a bomb on her and that she needed time to process everything, to accept me. My body didn’t give a damn. Every cell wanted me to roar with my need for a Claim. Her fingers trailed three inches lower, and she exhaled contentedly behind me. My teeth ached as I fought to maintain control of the change.

Then she tapped my stomach and pointed to the left at the old country bar we’d passed when I’d first brought her home. There was no sign with a name, only a neon light advertising “bar” in one of the high windows.

Disappointment filled me as I signaled and started to slow. Our kind had remained hidden so well, I’d known her acceptance of us wouldn’t be easy. But, I hadn’t thought it would turn her into an alcoholic.

I pulled into the parking lot and eased the bike to a stop. In the silence after cutting the engine, I listened to the steady beat of her pulse. It was only slightly higher than normal. Yet, under the layers of exhaust, her fear still tainted the air.

Despite knowing what Michelle wanted, I hesitated to bring her inside. Winifred hadn’t liked her smelling of wine. What would she say if I brought Michelle back smelling of more alcohol?

“I can’t take you in there,” I said, eyeing the familiar old building.

“Yes, you can.” The bike shifted slightly as she dismounted. Standing to the side, she met my gaze as she waited for me to decide.

“Nana will kill me.” Literally. Endangering a potential Mate was a demand for an Elder beating, or worse.

“I think you can take her,” Michelle said with an amused sigh.

“You have no idea,” I muttered as I got off the bike. Pissing off Winifred was never a good idea. No matter what Jim thought.

Eyeing the mostly empty parking lot, I led the way to the door. Hopefully, Michelle wouldn’t want to stay long. Despite the fact that the bar had no sign, it was popular with the younger local crowd. The way I was feeling, I didn’t think I’d tolerate long looks from across the bar or flirting. Just the idea of another man looking at Michelle made my teeth ache.

Frustrated, I yanked the door open and held it for her as she entered. The bar was quiet. A few old timers sat at the far end, enjoying beer and some talk.

Wanting to get this over with, I walked up to the bar and ordered a beer and two shots while pulling out a chair for her. She sat and arched a brow at me. Because I ordered for her?

“Isn’t that what you wanted? Alcohol?” It was hard to keep my tone steady. I wasn’t angry. But it did hurt to know she needed alcohol just to tolerate being near me.

I handed her the first shot and didn’t miss how she narrowed her eyes at me before throwing back the liquor.

Then, all my frustration evaporated at the face she made.

“That was awful,” she said, wheezing a little.

Man, why was she so cute? I nodded and handed her the second shot.

“Isn’t there something better than that?”

“There is, but that will do the trick.”

She swallowed down the shot in one gulp again then waved the bartender over for a glass of water.

While she sipped her water, I sipped my beer and concentrated on her scent. The fear slowly faded and amusement crept in.

“I think I’m ready,” she said, unsteadily.

“For what, exactly?” I said, warily turning to study her.

“To get to know you.”

My pulse leapt at her words, and I couldn’t deny where my thoughts led. Something must have shown on my face because she giggled.

“Not that. Like you asked.”

Images of tangled sheets and twined legs evaporated as I understood. She’d gotten drunk so she could get to know the furry side of me. I shook my head, trying to deny my disappointment and stood, offering her a hand.

She didn’t hesitate to place her hand into mine. The slide of her soft skin brought back the ache I’d been trying to keep at bay since she’d kneed me. Not the one in my nuts, but the one in my chest.

Thoughts of touching and holding her filled my mind as I led her back to the bike. She stood unsteadily as I mounted, and I had to help her onto the back. But once she sat, she wrapped herself around me. A soft groan escaped me, and I revved the motor to cover the sound. Did she have any idea how close I was to turning off the bike and pulling her into my lap?

Winifred would kill me. Only that one sane thought kept me from acting on my urge to touch and hold Michelle…and, maybe, the thought of Michelle sobering and kicking my ass and then leaving me forever. Yeah, I’d keep my hands off until she was ready.

I started out slowly and kept it slow all the way home, not wanting to give up the feel of her pressed against my back. Before we were halfway, she sighed and laid her head on my shoulder. I wasn’t worried about her falling off. No, nothing would happen.

Her hands drifted north from my waist, and the bike swerved a little. Damn. I slowed down further. Self-inflicted pain. That’s what the ride was. It hurt to have her touch me like this and do nothing about it.

When the driveway came into view, I considered passing it by but knew she’d sober eventually. She clutched me tighter as we turned and pressed her face into my shirt. Then, she inhaled deeply, scenting me. It almost ended me. Why did she have to be drunk? Why couldn’t she do this sober?

Thankfully, the sun had set and the lights were out in the house when I pulled into the garage. I didn’t need Jim’s smartass, and probably accurate, observations right now.

Michelle lifted her head as soon as I shut off the bike. Her fingers continued to trace patterns over my chest. Each swipe of her finger over a nipple brought me that much closer to shifting.

“What was in that little cup?” she asked with a slight lisp.

“Tequila.” Hopefully, she didn’t notice the growl vibrating the word.

“It didn’t taste good.”

Her roaming fingers left me, and she struggled to get off the bike. After the third time she brushed against me, I twisted and put my arms around her as I stood.

In less than a second, we were both standing next to the bike, facing each other. She blinked at me dazedly. The weak light from the porch painted her face in dusky shadows, making it easy to follow the movement of her tongue as she licked her soft, parted lips. I fisted my hands to keep them at my sides.

“What now?” I asked, softly.

“Show me.” As she spoke, she swayed a little and reached out to lay a hand on my arm. Her fingers immediately started roaming again. There was no reservation in her touch or her gaze.

“What exactly?” I asked, my heart pounding.

“You said you’re a werewolf. Show me what that means exactly.”

She wanted to see me? Our gazes held as I struggled with my desire to show her and my fear of her reaction. Would she run again? She certainly wouldn’t get very far in the state she was in.

Unable to resist, I reached up and gently touched her cheek. Smooth and soft. Warm and welcoming. That was who Michelle was meant to be. Home. But in order for that to be a reality, I needed to figure out her past and conquer her fear.

“If I show you, will you answer some questions for me?”

She nodded, a shy smile pulling at her lips. My palms grew sweaty.

“Turn around for a second.”

Watching the change would really freak her out, no matter how tipsy she was. Plus, I didn’t need her to see just how turned on I was when I stripped.

As she teetered in a slow circle, I used my speed to disrobe. Setting the neat pile of my folded clothes on the ground, I gave in to the urge to shift. The pain of the shift didn’t outweigh the relief of finally letting it go.

She was still pinwheeling her arms for balance when I settled on my paws and shook out my fur. Knowing she needed help to steady herself, I stepped closer. Her fingers brushed my coat. We both stilled. A shiver ran through me when she saw me and ran a hand along my spine.

The instant of my birth and the finale of my death would be nothing compared to the moment Michelle finally Claimed me. I ached for it.

“Hi, there,” she breathed.

Her hand drifted to my head and played with my ear. If this was the affection I would receive when in my fur, I was never going back to my skin again.

She idly looked around the garage. “Did you see where he went?”

She didn’t know it was me? I sighed.

Her gaze drifted to my neat pile of clothes, and she grinned. Her attempt to bend down and pick up my shirt almost landed her on her face. I moved quickly, using my side to keep her upright. Once she had the shirt in hand, she straightened and pressed the material to her face. A partial groan and growl escaped. She was doing it again. Scenting me. The woman was hell-bent on driving me crazy with mixed signals. Did she fear me or want to inhale me?

When her eyes didn’t open for a few seconds, I realized I was going to lose her to sleep and nudged her.

“Good boy,” she said, opening her eyes and patting my head again.

Heaving a sigh, I used my teeth to try to pluck the shirt from her hands.

“Bad,” she scolded, in a stern voice. Then, she tapped my nose in reprimand.

I snorted and slowly started the change back, giving up on the shirt. Hopefully, once she saw some skin, she’d understand who I was and maybe turn around. All the petting hadn’t helped calm me down.

As soon as my chest and shoulders were furless her eyes widened comically. “Oh!” she said, spinning on her heel, still clutching my shirt.

I pushed through the rest of the change and quickly pulled on my pants. The rasp of my zipper caused her to groan. I grinned as I scented her embarrassment. It was much better than fear.

“Is it too late to ask for another shot?” she whispered.

“Yep.” We were way past that.

She swayed on her feet, and I decided she’d had enough. Scooping her into my arms, I turned toward the house. She sighed and rested her head on my chest. I looked down at her peaceful expression. Her eyes had already drifted closed again.

“Now, you promised to answer a few questions,” I said softly.