Chapter Fourteen

The storm that had been developing as Will sped from Wolftrap had evolved into a full-fledged gale. Long fingers of snow slithered across the road and his windshield wipers were fighting a relentless battle against the assault.

He had never been to Hannibal's house before. As he wound through the hills on the outskirts of Baltimore in a near white-out, he realized distantly that he had failed to procure an address. Any useful information was on his phone which was still buried underneath a foot of snow on his lawn somewhere, and he was in no state to drive to work and dig up the Alpha's personal files. No matter; his turns were confident and his speed consistent. He knew where he was going.

The houses here – or rather, estates – were separated by at least two miles and tucked back into the trees like fortresses. Money can't buy happiness but it could certainly buy plenty of buffer space. In many instances, the only indication any buildings existed beyond the road were the iron gates that secured their private driveways.

Each set was illuminated by streetlights. They were surely picturesque in the daytime; many of the gates' metal bars and curling decorative tops were woven with vines and bright flowers. But under stark yellow illumination against a canvas of black, their forms appeared warped and distorted. Will bypassed all of them with haste.

He felt like death and was getting worse by the moment. Somehow sensing that Hannibal was close, his body was putting up an absolute revolt against him. The pounding in his head had intensified and he didn't know which was worse, the violent shivering or the excessive sweating that was filling his car with sickly-sweet scent. The insides of the windows were beginning to collect condensation because of it but he dared not open the window; being shocked by icy wind was almost as repulsive as stopping before he reached the Alpha. Panting over white knuckles, he was not going to let that happen.

An unwavering conviction kept him driving purposefully through the darkness, though he knew not where it came from. These hills were unknown to him and yet he navigated their twists and turns as if he took them every day. An invisible beacon was drawing him, steadfast as the beam from a lighthouse that guides a ship safely through a storm.

If it wasn't for the roiling heat in his guts and the fact that his skin felt like it was melting, he fancied he would have enjoyed the ride. The twilight sky was clear of clouds and the stars were bright without being smothered by the smog of light from the city. It reminded him of the view from his own home in Wolftrap.

But Hannibal was close and the stars would still be there later.

A particularly ugly twang in his head made him wince and raise a hand to his temple. It came away warm and bloody. For a long and confusing moment that was almost humorous, Will stared at the glistening red and struggled to think how he could have come by such an injury. Then, memories of the crash came flooding back. Oh, right. He had almost ghosted himself on the highway. In that case, he was lucky that all he walked away with was a bad headache.

He fixed his gaze back on the road. It wouldn't do to get into another accident when he was so close.

As he crested the top of a grassy knoll that was half-smothered with snow, a cluster of lights in the distance caught his eye. It was no more than a mile or two away and instantly, his heart jumped up into his throat. He didn't need an address to tell him that this was his Alpha's residence. For some reason the collection of hazy, yellow squares floating in the void of black was as familiar as his own home, and he knew nothing but comfort and peace was to be found within. Giddy with relief but still shaking from the fever, Will accelerated and ignored the moisture that rolled down his temples and matted his hair.

The car's inertia kept it going down the other side of the hill long enough for him to suspect nothing, but then the vehicle slowed to a crawl as the ground leveled out. Panic spiked in him. This wasn't good. He pumped the gas to no avail. In a few short moments, he was stopped altogether.

"Shit," he breathed, glancing at the fuel gauge. It was empty. His ability to think logically was obviously impaired; he realized this was the first time he had actually looked at the dashboard since leaving home. Fuck, how fast had he been going? He hadn't even been checking his speed. By all rights, he really shouldn't be on the road. The thought was uncomfortable but not as bad as feeling his intestines seize at the knowledge that he was now further from Hannibal than before.

There was nothing to be done. Swallowing the blend of whines and curses that threatened to spill out of him, Will jerked open the car door and staggered out into the cold night. One way or another, he was reaching that fucking therapist.

XXX

Alana was inching closer and closer to Hannibal on the piano bench, and the male was beginning to panic.

Upon finishing their after-dinner coffees, he had taken her hand with the repulsive intention of seducing her to just get it over with. It wasn't going to make the growing hole in his chest any better. In fact, it would certainly have the opposite effect, but this torturous waiting was almost as bad.

Starting in the library was a good a place as any, he supposed. The furniture was comfortable and the atmosphere more than appropriate. However, upon leading her through his hallways, he found himself turning into the drawing room instead. It was at the front of the house, boasted vaulted ceilings, and afforded a splendid view of his immaculate yard and driveway. Outside the large window, snow could be seen covering the trees and lawn, and a full moon turned the scene into something from a dream.

The open concept of the room was refreshing and allowed him more space to breathe. He couldn't bear the thought of retreating with her into one of the smaller rooms at the back of the building, nestled in together with no way out. Not yet, anyway.

The grand piano was also a welcome distraction. Its seat was a poor choice for an intimate encounter, and a slow, brooding dirge was good for the soul. Well aware that this self-sabotage was just another attempt to prolong the inevitable, Hannibal chose to ignore that little fact and attempted to engage her in a doleful duet.

As it turned out, the Beta was less than proficient and tried to overcome her inadequacy at the instrument with overt compliments and innuendos. Apparently, he was both a very handsome Alpha and an exceptional pianist. Particular emphasis was placed the last two words which Hannibal very nearly snorted at. The alcohol had obviously loosened her tongue.

After continuing his half-hearted attempt to teach her anything, he gave up. The woman had the musical talent of a plugged sink and the melody quickly dissolved into a poor rendition of Chopsticks.

"I never really got the hang of playing an instrument," she admitted as she plunked out the simple tune.

You don't say, Hannibal found himself wanting to reply.

"You have a natural talent, Alana. With practice, you could go from Chopsticks to Tchaikovsky."

Flattering her was a struggle but he was obviously convincing enough, for Alana took that as a sign of encouragement. With something of a sultry smile, she slid closer to him on the bench. To the Alpha, it was more like a grimace of lust and his stomach clenched.

Franklyn's murder seemed far away. Stupid, even. Why was he doing this? The male's death was steadily becoming an event that was becoming shapeless and vague. In vain, he struggled to recall the satisfaction of slicing the flesh from his victims' bones to create exquisite gourmet dishes, to shape them in an aesthetic way, and then to eat them. Did the insipid Beta's death even matter anymore? The idea of going through all of this turmoil and deceit just for an alibi seemed pointless. Sweat broke out on his temples and under his arms at the Beta's approach. This was wrong.

He knew something had to be done. Shaking his head, he reached out and took her shoulder, about to express something, anything that would make her get up and leave. Maybe he had a sudden stomachache, or remembered he had an early morning appointment he couldn't afford to miss, or maybe he could just tell her the truth, that he was actually in love with W–

Alana, now convinced that this sudden touch was further proof of his romantic regard for her, eagerly responded. With enthusiasm, she flung her arms around Hannibal's neck and planted her lips squarely on his.

XXX

It was fucking freezing outside.

By the time Will had reached the mouth of Hannibal's driveway, he was shivering violently and couldn't feel his toes. The wind had picked up and so had the blowing snow.

The distance hadn't seemed that far at first; after abandoning his car, the next half hour was spent in determined power walking and much steam-blowing. Spurned by his heat, he felt like he could walk all night if it meant getting to his Alpha.

He was going to find Hannibal and they were going to fix his little problem. This translated to yes, we were going to fuck, and then the Alpha would be his and he would finally be done with all this nonsense. The terrible ache in his stomach would desist and he would be able to find some semblance of peace.

Then the cold started inching into his bones. The thin jacket he wore was quite unequal to the frigid temperatures of the night air and he was soon scolding himself for not grabbing his winter coat on the way out. He had his arms wrapped around himself but the attempt to preserve his warmth was pitiful. In this weather, he may as well have been wearing nothing at all.

By the time Will approached the gates of Hannibal's driveway, his stride was stiff and his ears and face were stinging. The iron barricade was thrown open and there were relatively fresh tire marks in the snow leading in. This fact wasn't lost on him but he was too cold to register their implication; either Hannibal had just returned home from somewhere or he had a late-night visitor.

Breaching the gates, he was grateful to notice the streetlamps set in frequent intervals down the drive. Elsewise, he was certain he would have stumbled right into a tree or down a snowy incline, just the thing to prove to the Alpha how capable he was. Just as fortunately, the lights of the other male's house remained visible as well, a comforting guide in the darkness.

Another quarter passed before he finally began to make out the shape of the house. While he was mainly preoccupied with banishing the cold from his bones, he did appreciate its aesthetic appeal (he was certain he was going to lose a few toes), but its beauty was not all lost on him. The building had an old-style Victorian charm complete with statues of angels and gargoyles, and a wonderfully-wrought stone fountain sat in the middle of the lawn, currently in disuse.

Plodding around a wall of well-kept rosebushes, he was suddenly met with a large window that poured golden light out onto the snow below.

He didn't mean to glance inside as the front door was the only thing he cared about at the moment, but what he saw within made him freeze in his tracks.

Hannibal was kissing Alana Bloom.

The pair were slightly turned away from the window and Will's disbelieving eyes, but he could see well enough to know they were both enjoying themselves. Alana had her arms wrapped around Hannibal's neck and her eyes were closed; she was obviously lost in the moment.

Their angle prevented him from seeing the Alpha's expression but he was certain it was arranged in a similar display of rapture. How could it not be? He was gripping the Beta's shoulders and moving languidly along with her. Will's heart plummeted in his chest as he witnessed the scene.

The fact that they were a beautiful couple hadn't escaped him. Framed by the window and doused in dim lamplight, the two seemed perfect for each other. Alana's red dress complimented Hannibal's dark suit, sleek and stylish unlike Will's meager attire, and as two well-educated people moving in similar circles, he couldn't help but think they were made for each other.

Still, betrayal sliced through him like a knife. Alana was his friend. His friend. With her intuitive knowledge, she should have known that Will was harboring feelings for Hannibal. To swoop in like this was tactless and hurtful. Still, he hadn't admitted his feelings outright and it wasn't as though the Alpha was his.

Well, certainly not anymore. Apparently, Hannibal thought so little of him that he had no qualms in taking what he wanted and then casting him aside when he was done.

Feeling as though he were drowning, Will stumbled back from the window, unable to face the two any longer. This was too much to bear. He had driven all this way, walked when his car gave out on him in the freezing cold, only to find Hannibal in the arms of someone else. This was beyond pain. This felt like dying.

Unable to catch his breath, his head started spinning. Reality was tilting on its axis, threatening to destabilize completely. The image of them burned in his eyes like staring at the sun for too long, and the knowledge that they were mere feet from him and engaged in such a romantic gesture was excruciating. Sudden tears blinded him. What was he going to do now?

Disoriented, shaking with cold but still buzzing with the heat that seared his insides, Will took another step backward away from the source of his anguish. It was improperly calculated; the snow concealed a flowerbed ringed with brick and he lost his footing.

Throwing out his hands to brace against the fall, his right palm caught the sharp edge. Even through the layer of snow, his palm was sliced open and breathtaking pain rushed to meet him. Unable to help his cry of surprise and distress, Will knelt, cradling his arm. Blood spattered the snow below, tainting its pure white with red.

It hurt, but not nearly as much as seeing Hannibal showing romantic affection for someone else. His hand bled, but his heart was gushing. Tears started falling freely, hot against his cold skin as they rolled down his face.

Adding to his head injury, this was the second time that night that he had drawn blood. This couldn't possibly get any worse.

XXX

The Omega's cry of pain pierced Hannibal like an arrow, and the warm smell of blood pervaded his senses.

Will?

It was as if a switch had been flipped. Protective instincts kicked in with a vengeance as if waiting for something like this to happen, and the scent of heat ignited in his veins. His pupils blew wide, his heart started pounding, and his breaths became shallow.

Abruptly, and with more force than was intended, Hannibal shoved the offending female away from him. Indeed, he almost knocked her off the piano bench. Why he was even bothering with this Beta was beyond him;Will was close by and injured, and that was all that mattered now. Murder swiftly became the very last thing on his mind.

Ignoring Alana's sounds of surprise and confusion, he swiftly strode to the window where he was sure the noise and scent had originated. If he had been desperate enough to hallucinate Will into being, it was the most tenacious fantasy he had ever concocted. What he saw below made his blood freeze. This was no delusion.

Will was kneeling in the snow, his right arm coated in red. He was bathed in yellow light from the window that illuminated his shaking body, revealing his poor choice of seasonal attire and miserable countenance. Pain was obviously wracking through him.

The gently falling snow had the strange effect of making the scene feel like a page in a fairy tale, but the Alpha was too preoccupied to acknowledge this. His eyes ate up the picture as if they couldn't quite believe what they were seeing.

Blood, lots of blood. Far too much.

With his brain short-circuiting with this distressing information, Hannibal found himself bursting out the front door and into the snow before he had even realized he had moved. Like a lioness protecting her cub, it was an all-encompassing response. Turning the corner around the set of hedges, a surge of wind blew Will's scent directly into his face.

He was unprepared for its strength. Having never before been in Will's presence while he was in heat, it thoroughly amazed him. Waves of fresh, sweet pine suffused him and he staggered, his mind blown at how powerful the sensation was. Blended with fresh blood, it rocked him to his core and all rational thought was whisked away by the swirling snow.

Mine, mine, mine, MINE, MINE

Struggling to remain focused on the task at hand, Hannibal reached the shivering Omega and gathered him in his arms. Jesus, the man was nearly frozen.

"Will, I'm here. Don't try to move. I've got you," he breathed, hoisting him up as if he weighed nothing. Will, seeming to understand that he was now in safe hands, let his head fall against his Alpha's shoulder. The gesture was not lost on Hannibal, whose chest swelled with possessiveness and satisfaction that his Omega was now with him.

As he rounded the same hedges to return to the house, Alana appeared at the door.

"Oh my god, is that - ?" she started, her hand raising to her lips in shock.

Before she could finish her stunned statement, a barking growl sounded from Hannibal's throat in warning. No longer was she an invited guest; the female was standing in the way of getting Will to warmth and safety - a dangerous place to be.

"You have thirty seconds," he snarled, his head lowered protectively over Will's and his eyes narrowed in defense. "Gather your things and get out of the house. This will be the last time I tell you."

The ominous tenor of Hannibal's voice and the flashing of his eyes was enough to prompt Alana into action. She disappeared from the doorway and moments later returned with her coat and purse. As she hastily evacuated, Hannibal wasted no time in carrying Will through the threshold. Without another word to the utterly baffled Beta, he slammed the door shut and left her to her snow-dusted car.