The Burning Claw
Page 46
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The Missouri pack was one in which the rebel ideas seemed to hit particularly hard. Many of Reed’s pack mates were influenced by those seeking to overthrow the humans. Reed learned later that this group had given itself the name, The Order of the Burning Claw. While some believed that Reed should have dealt with these wolves more severely, he was a strong and just Alpha. He, therefore, gave the wolves who’d been swayed by the Order’s teachings a choice. They could renounce those teachings, be forgiven, and stay and live as part of the pack. Alternatively, they could leave the pack and serve the Order, but they could not do both.
Four wolves chose to leave the Missouri pack: Jericho McGregger, Cross Wilmington, Evie McGregger, cousin of Jericho, and Isa McGregger, also a cousin of Jericho. Records indicate that the two females travelled to America from Ireland, adopting the Missouri pack as their own. Jericho, however, was born in North America.
Since leaving the Missouri pack, the four wolves have been seen only sparingly, but always together. It appears that they have chosen to remain rogue, never settling in one place for an extended period of time. A few attempts by American Alphas have been made to find the wolves and bring them under pack law. Mysteriously, however, each attempt has met with failure as the wolves have never been located by any Alpha searching for them. The last known sighting of any of the wolves was in Oceanside, South Carolina.
The mate status of the group is unknown. However, it was suspected that Jericho lost his true mate before the Blood Rites could be completed. The four have—’
“Have what?” Wadim growled as he glared at the unfinished sentence. He tried scrolling to the next page but, apparently, the remaining part of the entry was lost. The next entry had nothing to do with Jericho and his little pack.
“What the hell? What happened to the rest of the record?” Wadim had found, in his years of acting as the pack historian, that his ancestors had not always been as diligent or detailed as they should have been. This really made him want to dig up their bones and gnaw on them a bit.
What he found would have to be enough. At least they had names of the douche bags. Okay, so maybe they weren’t douche bags anymore, who knows? But if they had anything to do with Sally’s disappearance, then they were definitely still douche bags—and soon to be dead douche bags when Costin found out.
Glancing at his watch, he saw, to his pleasure, that he would actually get some sleep tonight. “Thank you, Great Luna,” he mumbled as he stumbled to his room and crashed onto the bed, clothes, shoes, and all. He never gave it a second thought that he hadn’t called anyone, not even his Alpha about what he’d found. The exhaustion and stress, and something else he couldn’t put his finger on, had stripped him of any coherent thoughts. All he could think was sleep, he needed sleep…and that something else he couldn’t put his finger on.
Sally’s most recent headache was the worst yet. She was pretty sure that, at any moment, her brain was going to turn to mush and ooze out of her ears. The pressure was intense and nothing she did eased the pain in the slightest. She’d tried everything. She’d taken every over-the-counter pain medication, sinus medication, and cold medication that the local pharmacy had to offer. Heck, she’d even rubbed pain reliever gel on her forehead and neck. All that had done was make her forehead and neck burn—though the new pain had taken her mind off the headache, if only for a few moments.
Sally squeezed her eyes tightly shut, while she continued to wipe down the bar, trying to will the pain away. She knew that she was going to have to go see a doctor soon if something didn’t change in a hurry, not that she had health insurance or anything. Frustrated by this thought, she huffed and gripped the towel tighter. Hands suddenly rested on her hips and pulled her back against a firm chest.
Suddenly, the pain in her head throbbed even more. Something about this action, being pulled against a tall, strong body, felt so intimately familiar to her. And though Jericho had done this more times than she could count, she knew that the hands she was remembering did not belong to him. It was like someone in her past, someone long forgotten, had once done the very same thing. That was impossible, of course. She’d never been in a serious relationship before Jericho—not that they were planning nuptials or anything. She wasn’t actually sure how serious they were, or how serious she wanted them to be for that matter. But he certainly seemed to want to take things further and he was intense. She found it terribly difficult to disagree with him.
“You okay?” Jericho asked, his breath warm against her skin.
“Headache,” she murmured.
“Maybe the headaches are because of your hair. I mean…it’s beautiful…don’t get me wrong, but it’s long and thick. I’ve heard my cousins complain about their hair being heavy, causing their head to hurt at the end of the day,” Jericho said, resting his chin on her shoulder so his mouth was next to her ear. “I love it, but it wouldn’t change how appealing you are if you wanted to cut it. You know, just to see if that helps.”
His logic did make sense. Her hair was long and it was thick. She had gotten headaches in the past if she kept it up in a ponytail too long. Maybe it was time to get a trim.
“I guess I could give it a try,” Sally agreed. “It will grow back if I don’t like it.”
“Why don’t you go right now? While we’re slow?”
“Will Cross be okay with that?” she asked, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.
“I’ll deal with Cross,” Jericho told her, as if he was the boss and not the other way around. Then again, Sally had begun to suspect that the two men had a relationship that Sally didn’t understand. She’d noticed that occasionally Jericho gave Cross this…look. It was a look that seemed to put the other man in his place. It gave Sally the impression that Jericho was actually the one calling the shots, and Cross was just some kind of figurehead. She made a mental note to ask Jericho about it later.
“Alright.” Sally stepped out of his hold and untied her apron, folded it, and tucked it under the counter. She grabbed her purse and turned to tell Jericho goodbye, and she had to back up to keep from smacking into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling on her rear and tugged her close to him.
Jericho walked her backward until she was trapped up against the counter. His eyes were intent upon hers as he stared down at her. Moments like these were becoming more and more frequent. Sally was sure that he felt more strongly about her than she did him, and she didn’t know how to handle these situations. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she definitely needed some space.
Four wolves chose to leave the Missouri pack: Jericho McGregger, Cross Wilmington, Evie McGregger, cousin of Jericho, and Isa McGregger, also a cousin of Jericho. Records indicate that the two females travelled to America from Ireland, adopting the Missouri pack as their own. Jericho, however, was born in North America.
Since leaving the Missouri pack, the four wolves have been seen only sparingly, but always together. It appears that they have chosen to remain rogue, never settling in one place for an extended period of time. A few attempts by American Alphas have been made to find the wolves and bring them under pack law. Mysteriously, however, each attempt has met with failure as the wolves have never been located by any Alpha searching for them. The last known sighting of any of the wolves was in Oceanside, South Carolina.
The mate status of the group is unknown. However, it was suspected that Jericho lost his true mate before the Blood Rites could be completed. The four have—’
“Have what?” Wadim growled as he glared at the unfinished sentence. He tried scrolling to the next page but, apparently, the remaining part of the entry was lost. The next entry had nothing to do with Jericho and his little pack.
“What the hell? What happened to the rest of the record?” Wadim had found, in his years of acting as the pack historian, that his ancestors had not always been as diligent or detailed as they should have been. This really made him want to dig up their bones and gnaw on them a bit.
What he found would have to be enough. At least they had names of the douche bags. Okay, so maybe they weren’t douche bags anymore, who knows? But if they had anything to do with Sally’s disappearance, then they were definitely still douche bags—and soon to be dead douche bags when Costin found out.
Glancing at his watch, he saw, to his pleasure, that he would actually get some sleep tonight. “Thank you, Great Luna,” he mumbled as he stumbled to his room and crashed onto the bed, clothes, shoes, and all. He never gave it a second thought that he hadn’t called anyone, not even his Alpha about what he’d found. The exhaustion and stress, and something else he couldn’t put his finger on, had stripped him of any coherent thoughts. All he could think was sleep, he needed sleep…and that something else he couldn’t put his finger on.
Sally’s most recent headache was the worst yet. She was pretty sure that, at any moment, her brain was going to turn to mush and ooze out of her ears. The pressure was intense and nothing she did eased the pain in the slightest. She’d tried everything. She’d taken every over-the-counter pain medication, sinus medication, and cold medication that the local pharmacy had to offer. Heck, she’d even rubbed pain reliever gel on her forehead and neck. All that had done was make her forehead and neck burn—though the new pain had taken her mind off the headache, if only for a few moments.
Sally squeezed her eyes tightly shut, while she continued to wipe down the bar, trying to will the pain away. She knew that she was going to have to go see a doctor soon if something didn’t change in a hurry, not that she had health insurance or anything. Frustrated by this thought, she huffed and gripped the towel tighter. Hands suddenly rested on her hips and pulled her back against a firm chest.
Suddenly, the pain in her head throbbed even more. Something about this action, being pulled against a tall, strong body, felt so intimately familiar to her. And though Jericho had done this more times than she could count, she knew that the hands she was remembering did not belong to him. It was like someone in her past, someone long forgotten, had once done the very same thing. That was impossible, of course. She’d never been in a serious relationship before Jericho—not that they were planning nuptials or anything. She wasn’t actually sure how serious they were, or how serious she wanted them to be for that matter. But he certainly seemed to want to take things further and he was intense. She found it terribly difficult to disagree with him.
“You okay?” Jericho asked, his breath warm against her skin.
“Headache,” she murmured.
“Maybe the headaches are because of your hair. I mean…it’s beautiful…don’t get me wrong, but it’s long and thick. I’ve heard my cousins complain about their hair being heavy, causing their head to hurt at the end of the day,” Jericho said, resting his chin on her shoulder so his mouth was next to her ear. “I love it, but it wouldn’t change how appealing you are if you wanted to cut it. You know, just to see if that helps.”
His logic did make sense. Her hair was long and it was thick. She had gotten headaches in the past if she kept it up in a ponytail too long. Maybe it was time to get a trim.
“I guess I could give it a try,” Sally agreed. “It will grow back if I don’t like it.”
“Why don’t you go right now? While we’re slow?”
“Will Cross be okay with that?” she asked, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.
“I’ll deal with Cross,” Jericho told her, as if he was the boss and not the other way around. Then again, Sally had begun to suspect that the two men had a relationship that Sally didn’t understand. She’d noticed that occasionally Jericho gave Cross this…look. It was a look that seemed to put the other man in his place. It gave Sally the impression that Jericho was actually the one calling the shots, and Cross was just some kind of figurehead. She made a mental note to ask Jericho about it later.
“Alright.” Sally stepped out of his hold and untied her apron, folded it, and tucked it under the counter. She grabbed her purse and turned to tell Jericho goodbye, and she had to back up to keep from smacking into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling on her rear and tugged her close to him.
Jericho walked her backward until she was trapped up against the counter. His eyes were intent upon hers as he stared down at her. Moments like these were becoming more and more frequent. Sally was sure that he felt more strongly about her than she did him, and she didn’t know how to handle these situations. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she definitely needed some space.
