Small Heath, 1922
"When were you going to tell me?" Thomas turned around to see Maze standing on the steps of their house. Her posture screamed annoyance. He studied her intently as she finished the last three steps to come face to face with him.
"Tell you what?"
"That someone shot at you!"
"Oh, that."
Maze huffed and crossed her arms. "Oh, yes, that! What happened?"
Thomas shifted his feet, looking down at the tips of his boots before looking back at his wife. She wasn't yelling at him. That was a good thing, but she was angry. He wasn't sure why she was angry. He wasn't injured. Thomas felt no remorse at killing the man that twice tried to kill him.
"It was the man that shot me earlier this year," he paused, seeing her eyes widened. "I found out who ordered it."
"Who?"
"Kimber's widow. She didn't like me relieving her of her matrimonial duty." He slipped on his jacket. The wolf prowled in his head. He could feel the bastard simmering under his skin. Tonight was the full moon, and he was itching to get going.
Maze sighed. She didn't blame the woman for being angry that her husband was murdered. She would probably do the same thing if Thomas were murdered. Running her hands over her face, she sighed again and looked at Thomas. He was waiting on her rebuttal. Her anger that this happened again.
But she wasn't angry.
After her small conversation with herself about the life she was leading, she decided there were some things that she couldn't control. Like people trying to murder her husband, herself or anyone they knew. Thomas would do everything in his power to protect her and their children. She was alone without her family in this Lifetime. The only family she had left were the Shelbys.
She didn't enjoy finding out that Thomas had been shot at by a random stranger at the market. Maze would have preferred to find out from her husband, and it seemed he didn't find it important to inform her. In his mind, he was alive, and that's all that mattered to him. Though she realized getting angry or panicky, every time was detrimental. She had to accept that some things were beyond her control, and it was a hard lesson to learn.
Maze looked at her husband and understood that she would do anything to protect them.
"You're going to be late," she rose on her toes to kiss his mouth. "I love you Thomas."
His mind reeling over the lack of row with his mate, Thomas shook himself and kissed his wife back. "I love you too. I'll be back by dawn."
He turned and left the house without his mate and without a fight. It surprised him that she didn't row with him about the incident. He was alive, and that's all that mattered. Coming around to his car, he got in and turned the engine on. Automatic car, no more turning the gauges beforehand cranking the car. The night air was frosty and it would be the last full moon run until the weather warmed up in March.
The next three months were going to be hell. He knew it. He shifted his body in the seat. The loom of the IRA in his backyard kept him alert and unsettled. He did his best to keep business away from the house. As he drove down the Lane to pick up his brothers, Thomas sighed keeping his eyes on the road. Coming up to John's house, he waited for his brother to stumble out of the house.
He could hear the children screaming as their father stumbled out of the front door and closed it quickly with nary a glance at the car. John slid in, tucking down in the seat. Thomas could smell the alcohol on his brother already. He couldn't say much, he had a couple of whiskies before he left. The alcohol sometimes helped numb the body before a shift.
"Where's Arthur?" John asked over the silence.
"Hopefully at his 'ouse." Thomas turned down a road that led to Arthur's flat. Slowly coming to a stop, he honked the horn. A few minutes later, Arthur stumbled out and slammed the door. Thomas inhaled, smelling more alcohol. By the time they reached the Peak District, he would be half drunk from the smell alone.
"A'ight," Arthur slurred, climbing into the back of the car and flopping down on the cushion. "Let's get dis over with."
The car ride was silent as Thomas drove them to their hunting ground. In a few years, Finn would join them on this monthly adventure. Thomas scoffed lightly, ignoring the snores coming from his brothers. As he drove, he let his mind wander a bit. Maze knew something was bothering him, but he wouldn't tell her what.
Irene O'Donnell hadn't contacted him since the meeting, but he was sure they would soon enough. He doubted they forgot about him. Seeing the District ahead, Thomas nudged John to wake up. Bringing the car to a stop, he turned off the engine and turned around to see Arthur still sleeping.
"Arthur, get up!" he shouted, giving Arthur a shove.
Arthur sat up, roaring angrily at being woken. His roar finished waking John, who looked around seeing trees. A few minutes of silence passed until Thomas heard the sounds of multiple engines. The Pack was close at hand. It was best that he, Arthur, and John were there first. Arthur stumbled down and leaned against the car. Thomas could tell by his brother's posture he was less in the mood than he was.
When the vehicles came to a stop, the noise level rose. Men climbed out of the trucks, and several went to move wood and walking toward their campsite. He shivered in his thick wool coat and followed two of his men. John and Arthur ambled behind him. The sounds of wilderness surrounded him, keeping his mind distracted from the impending pain that would follow.
Entering the clearing, the moonlight gave it a glow. Several men wandered around to monitor intruders. They would be stationed, keeping humans from finding them. Thomas rubbed his chilly hands together, watching four men start the fires to keep them warm. He wasn't sure how far they would venture from the fires tonight. Men stood around talking quietly, keeping to themselves. John and Arthur roamed around talking and roughhousing with some of the Pack.
A shout of laughter caught Thomas's attention from the impending shift. He smiled at the antics of his men trying to stay amused while waiting. Before long, the fires were blazing. The men gathered around, trying to get close enough to stay warm but not burn up. Soon enough, Thomas stepped away from the warm fire to embrace the cold. The crisp night air was upon them and the moon was slowly rising. It was almost time.
He found a cold log to sit on and unlaced his boots. Thomas looked around to see most of the men doing the same as he. Next he removed his overcoat, followed by his jacket. Thomas shivered in the cold, unwilling to strip naked. He didn't know what would happen to his clothes if he refused to strip. Grudgingly, he stripped off his clothes slowly and folded them beside the log.
The second he removed his boot, the pain began. He felt the uncomfortableness earlier, but pushed it aside. The pain crawled up from the base of his spine to wrap around each vertebrate until it encapsulated his brain. He groaned and leaned forward before landing on the frigid ground. Wetness seeped on his skin from the light snowfall earlier that day.
He groaned loudly, feeling his tendons and joints stretch and move. His head pounded as his breathing became erratic. He could vaguely hear the other men experiencing the same painful experience. Blood pounded in his ears as he curled his fingers into the damp, cold dirt. The wolf howled in his head eager to escape the confines of its prison. Thomas heaved a guttural noise before the wolf took over.
He collapsed on the cold, damp ground and sighed. Giving himself a minute to orientate, he listened for the sounds of his Pack. Hearing them moving, Thomas rose to his four legs and took a couple of steps before running toward the hills with his Pack close behind him.
Inside the Betting house, the lights were dim. Various members of the Shelby family were gathered around the table. Thomas called a family meeting about the expansion in London the morning after the full moon. A few overhanging lights illuminated the square table in the middle.
Arthur sat, massaging his hands and wincing at the pain from boxing earlier. He scoffed to himself. Boxing…. If that's what you wanted to call it. It was more like pummeling the fuck out of someone because he couldn't keep the hell out of his mind. Having the wolf in his head didn't help matters especially when it smelled blood. Arthur tore his concentration from his sore hands to see his youngest brother Finn pacing the room.
"Sit down Finn," Arthur instructed quietly. The pacing was grating his nerves and if his youngest brother kept at it, Arthur would throttle him. He stared at Finn until the younger male sat down and huffed. The silence was thick with tension as the family stood around waiting on Thomas and Maze. Thomas called the meeting but the last to show.
"Where the bloody fuck is Tom and Mazie?" John demanded, his patience running thin this morning. His sore body kept his temper short from the shift last night. Esme hadn't wanted to come along, resulting in a row between them.
Polly sighed, "They'll be here."
Arthur clenched his fists several times working the soreness from his hands. The stick phone sat in the middle of the table. Seemingly almost out of place. Drinking glasses and ashtrays littered the working table from earlier that day. Outside daylight filtered through the windows, giving off a dusty glow.
"All right then," he began rising from his chair, the legs scraping the wooden floor roughly. "While we are waiting patiently….," he grunted, picking up a crate of bottles that rattled with his movement. "Whiskey." He sat whiskey bottles on the crowded table as the family picked up the bottles to read the labels.
"They're leftovers from the explosion. It's the good stuff," he mumbled, pouring the amber liquid into empty glasses. He, John, and Curly took a glass and enjoyed their drink.
The waiting became tedious the longer Polly stood there. She refused to partake in a drink with the men. Her eyes fixed on the direction of the front door of the parlor. Thomas called a meeting, said he'd be there. She all but tapped her foot impatiently.
"All right then," she heard John speaking from the other half of the building. "Before Tommy and Mazie get here, I think there's a few things we need to get straight between the rest of us."
Polly turned her head to see John standing in attention. Her eyes narrowed at his words. Apparently, he wanted to settle the family business without Tommy. She didn't like it at all. "You think?" she asked incredulously, raising her eyebrows at him.
"Yea, I do." John spat, glaring at his aunt. "I want to know when did we all take a vote on this expansion south?"
Slowly Polly turned and walked into the room, her arms hugging her body tightly. This wasn't how grievances were handled in this family. Excluding one to complain about him. It was dirty and she wouldn't stand for it. "If you have something to say, you will wait for Tommy."
"Polly's fucking right," Arthur spoke up, agreeing with his aunt. While he agreed with John about the lack of vote for the expansion in London, he knew better than to air grievances with the whole family. That's how they stayed strong. Everyone on the same fucking page.
"Did you know in the past year Shelby Company Ltd made £150 every day and sometimes more?" he murmured, looking around at his family, watching their expressions. "What I want to know is why are we changing things?"
"You want to know why we're changing things, John?" Thomas spoke from the doorway. Maze standing close to him, removing her jacket and hat.
All eyes turned toward Thomas, their expressions varying. "Because that's what companies do, John. They expand. Expanding comes with more money, reputation, prestige." He paused, wetting his lips. He felt Maze move to his side, her body brushing his.
"The company is making plenty of money, Tommy." John protested, waving his arms around. "I've seen the books."
"Yea, I have too John. I know what the books say, but I can see the numbers growing."
John scoffed, twisting his head away to look away from his older brother. When he turned back around, everyone eyed him curiously. Thomas leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. His pinky finger brushed a whiskey bottle. Thomas leveled his head to look at his brother, his eyes flashing briefly.
"Then don't accept more money when the company grows. Keep your measly stipend."
John sneered at his brother before jerking a chair from a nearby table and slammed it roughly on the floor before taking a seat. Everyone remained silent during John's tantrum. He leaned back, his eyes flashing briefly as he tried to control himself. He snatched an empty glass and filled it with whiskey. Throwing it back, he glared at his brother.
"We haven't even set foot in London, Tommy, and they blow up our fucking pub."
Thomas remained passive, already knowing who blew up the pub.
"Who said anything about cockneys?" Arthur flexed his fingers, glaring at John.
"Who else?" Esme piped up, turning her head to look at the family.
"So you know who did it?" Polly snapped, glaring at Esme's tone. She didn't know who did it either, but it was stupid to assume when you were ignorant.
A flash of panic danced across John's face for a second. "She knows nothing."
"I'm not a Shelby by blood, so I'm not allowed to talk," she snapped her book closed and leaned close through the railings on the steps.
"Oh no, Esme." Thomas rose to standing, giving her a side glance. "Everyone's allowed to talk." He refrained from grimacing. Thomas really didn't want her to talk. All she did was fucking complain. If he had known she was going to be this opinionated and annoying, he wouldn't have ended the war with the Lees. Lizzie would sit in her place, doing exactly as she needed to as John's wife.
John knew about Esme's opinions of his family and how things were run. He never liked it. It was one thing he disliked about his wife. Her opinions. Their life wasn't what she wanted, but she wanted marriage and children. He gave her that. But he wouldn't give into her demands. "I speak for our household." He interrupted, hoping to sway Tommy.
"Oh no, John." Thomas interrupted. "This company is a modern enterprise and believes in equal rights for women."
You are such a fucking liar, my husband. Maze thought, turning her head away from the family lest they see her smile. Internally, she roared with laughter. Swallowing her laughter, she turned back to see Thomas staring at her.
"What?" He raised an eyebrow at her for her amusement. What had he said that amused her so?
Her eyes widened as she fought back a smile. "Nothing."
He eyed her suspiciously, but said nothing back. Turning his attention back to Esme. He sighed internally and motioned for her to talk. "So come on Esme, say your peace" He retrieved his cigarette case and slipped one between his lips before lighting it.
Now that Thomas and Maze were here, Polly sat down with a whiskey and smoke. She wasn't looking forward to hearing Esme speak her mind either, but no one overruled Thomas. She glanced at Maze, who shrugged lightly before turning her attention to Esme.
"I'm not a blood member of this family, so I can see things in a different light. John is right, the company is very successful, but London," She turned her head to Tommy, her face grave, "London is like wars with armies. Coppers fight alongside them."
Maze snorted softly, smirking a little. Esme only thought things were bad in London. She knew better. Maze didn't have to live in London, nor live in this time period to know exactly how bad London was. It wasn't as bad off as Chicago or New York, but its underbelly was just as dangerous.
"And you think you know better, eh?" Esme snapped, leaning over the railing, her hands gripped the handle tightly until her fingertips were white. She narrowed her eyes at the slightly older woman. There was something about Maze that Esme didn't trust. If she knew, she'd tell Tommy about his wife.
Maze turned her head to stare at Esme. She never had a genuine problem with the woman, but her outspoken ways annoyed her. Not that she opposed to a woman having a strong voice or opinion, but it was irritating to see her try to bully her way into speaking for Joh
n. "Maybe, maybe not." She replied elusively, catching her husband's eye.
The family stood silent for a minute before Arthur handed Thomas a drink. "You can wash all those words down with a drink."
Thomas took the drink from Arthur and swallowed it back. It amused him to hear Esme's opinion. Polly and Maze were the only women he'd listen to. He turned, seeing Maze taking a seat in a nearby chair, and shot her a smile. Turning back to his family, he set his empty glass on the table with a loud thunk. Various bottles rattled as he straightened himself.
"First, the bang in the pub had nothing to do with London. Understood. Second, we have nothing to fear from the proposed business expansion as long as we stick together." He paused, watching John move to stand to pace a little. John would complain as much as he wanted, but he would fall in line, eventually. "After a few weeks, nine-tenths of what we do in London will be legal. The other tenth is in excellent hands, right, Arthur?"
Thomas gave this tenth percent to Arthur to temporarily replace the loss of the Garrison. It would keep his brother busy and out of the way while Thomas dealt with other…. issues.
"That's right."
"Now some of you have expressed your reservations, but if any of you want no part in the future of this company, you are free to leave." This plan would only work if everyone worked together, no matter their personal reasons. "The expansion project begins tomorrow."
Heads turned slowly toward Thomas. Polly's eyes widened at his confession. She turned to a wide eyed Maze and stood quickly with Maze following her.
He tapped the cigarette on the ashtray before slipping it between his lips. With one last look at the family, he turned and headed for the barred double doors. Fishing the key from his trouser pocket, he pushed it through the lock. The doors squeaked loudly, jarring his ears. Thomas heard two sets of shoes following behind him.
"Tomorrow?" Polly demanded, letting Maze inside before closing the door. Maze stepped around Polly and took a seat in a vacant chair. "I'm the company treasurer. You should speak to me first." She snapped at him while pointing at herself.
Maze leaned back, crossing her arms around her. Thomas shot a curious look. One she was desperate to learn about. She knew Thomas would wish to speak with her once Polly was done with him. Her knowledge of the future would be appealing to a man like her husband. Since the moment she told Thomas about her being from the future, she knew he'd eventually look to her for information.
Polly sat across from her and picked up a pen to jot something down in an open ledger. Maze could feel the anger rolling off the older woman as she sat and scribbled furiously. Thomas stood by the safe, fiddling with the combination and failing to open it. Maze wondered what he needed money for, but refrained from asking.
"It's Newmarket tomorrow," Polly spoke up, pausing her writing. "It's our third busiest day of the year."
Thomas jerked on the handle of the safe, ignoring Polly's ranting. "We have 18 staff," he murmured, turning the combination again. He was sure he knew it. He felt his wife's curiosity.
"You trust them with 200 quid takings?" Polly asked incredulously. Maze raised her eyebrow and pursed her lips, trying to convert the purchasing power. She would have to look it up when she got home. Thomas growled softly when the combination didn't work again.
"Oh, I changed the combination," Polly said easily. She knew it would annoy Tommy. Thomas stopped fiddling with the lock and straightened himself. Maze heard him sigh and lean his arms on the top of the safe. "What's going on Thomas?"
Thomas paused at her question. His wife was in the room and he vowed he would keep her out of the loop when something illegal crossed his desk. He lowered his head, thinking how he would explain this with as little information as possible. If he gave just enough, it would keep Maze from expecting a longer explanation.
"Who'd you meet at the Black Lion?" Polly murmured, well aware of Maze's presence.
Maze looked between her aunt-in-law and her husband. It annoyed Maze sometimes when she realized that information was being kept from her. She understood why Thomas refused to divulge into anything illegal with her, but it grated her nerves when she sat there listening and it sounded like they talked in code. No matter, she'd figure it out, eventually. Despite it all, she wasn't stupid.
"Give me the combination, Polly." Thomas avoided answering his aunt. He heard the chair squeak as Maze shifted around. He felt curiosity rolling off his wife. Polly's question intrigued her. The silence that followed prompted him to give Polly an answer. Even if the answer was vague. Annoyance pooled in his gut as he slapped the top of the safe softly and turned to stand in front of Polly.
He set his hands on the table so he was eye level with Polly. Wetting his lips, he felt the brush of a hand against his trousers. It was Maze's discreet way of comfort. He learned after almost two years of marriage that his wife used physical touch to convey feelings and intimacy.
"Polly, give me the combination," he demanded, his fists rattling a nearby glass.
Polly paused her writing and looked at her nephew. She knew eventually he'd give her some sort of excuse. "What happened to the pub is Irish business," he paused and looked at his wife's curious face before continuing. "We're in a situation where, for everyone's safety, it's best if some things remain…. undisclosed."
Maybe with that explanation Polly and Maze would be satisfied.
Polly judged his words. Thomas's decision affected everyone, but his carefully worded explanation meant this crisis was illegal. She cut her eyes toward Maze's curious face and didn't feel for her nephew to explain this to his wife. "So why tomorrow?"
Thomas sighed heavily, his eyes on the ledger. He pushed down the overwhelming curiosity from his mate. "Like you said, tomorrow is Newmarket. All the London bosses will be there."
"And because of that, you go in and take over the city?" Polly surmised.
"No," Thomas shook his head slightly. "The opportunity will be there for us to show our hand. Rumor is the Jews and the Italians are fighting. The Jews will need allies. It will help get a foothold at the southern end of the Grand Union," he explained.
Maze listened carefully. Her knowledge surpassed her husband's in this case. He was good at getting information, but she already had it at her fingertips. He knew names and ethnic groups, but that was all, or at least that's all she figured he knew. Her husband could surprise her. Maze discreetly cut her eyes at Polly and saw the understanding in her eyes. The both of them understood Thomas's desire to expand. She probably understood it better than Polly. He was a crime boss, but a small time one.
Polly observed Thomas, listening to his words. He wanted an expansion and figured this was the only way to get it. She cared nothing about the war between the Jews and Italians in London. Their war was their war. Not theirs. Supporting Thomas in this endeavor gave the Shelbys a foothold in London. Closer to the money and prestige that her nephew wanted. If she fought him against it, he'd do it, anyway. There were some things that a woman couldn't stop an ambitious man from doing. She didn't think Mazella could talk him out of it.
Too many things could go wrong. Someone could be killed, hurt, or tucked away in jail before the end. Worry raced through her. Polly was always worried for her family, and this was no expectation. Thomas was more than just a boss, he was the head of their family. Out of all of them in the family, he was the only one to choose to elevate them from living in the poverty-stricken area of Small Heath to lavish homes in London.
"We go down tomorrow when it's quiet and we leave a message," he tried again, hoping to get his way over it. He hoped they would shed no blood, but no one would die. Death wasn't on the menu tomorrow. "If Alfie Solomons and his Camden boys contact us, then we'll negotiate the use of a secure bonded warehouse and then our legal activities in London can begin."
He sighed, seeing Polly's indecision. Regardless of her decision, he would do it. This was his next step in his ambition. He was telling Polly as a courtesy, but that was it. She may be the company treasurer and soundboard for logic, reasoning, and decision-making, but this was something beyond her. He could have done this without her input.
"Please open the fucking safe," he enunciated, pointing toward the still locked safe.
Enough, Polly's mind snapped. Throwing her hands to the side, she twisted herself out of the chair. It didn't matter what she said, he would do as he pleased. She supposed he found it a courtesy to at least tell her before he went off half cocked to London. Polly didn't think he even understood the potential risks of undergoing this endeavor. He wanted the safe open instead of getting her opinion.
She rose elegantly, eyeing her nephew the whole time. It annoyed her that Maze hadn't spoken up the entire time. Her niece-in-law normally reprimanded Thomas for his insensitive action toward women. "Do you know it was a fine speech you made in there about this company believing in equal rights for women?"
Maze held back a smirk. Polly caught on to Thomas's bullshit earlier. It didn't surprise her that Polly would catch on to it. Thomas spoke pretty words but refused to compromise with the women in the company. As a woman, Maze understood Polly's concern. She wanted her family unharmed by any endeavor Thomas cooked up. Maze knew Polly would go along with the idea, but the safety of her family was her major priority.
"In the end," she continued, pausing from opening the safe, "you don't listen to a word we say. She was one woman, Thomas."
Thomas shifted his stance, listening to his aunt. He wanted her to open the safe, let him take care of business, and go home for the day. Just one woman, his mind repeated. Grace wasn't just any woman. She betrayed him. It wasn't about him not trusting the women in the family. He wanted this, and he wouldn't let anyone change his mind.
He felt his mate's eyes on him. She knew exactly how he felt about Grace. She cornered him and forced him to talk to her about it once the woman left Birmingham. He listened to his wife on certain topics, but she stayed out of the business, especially the illegal half. She never tried to stop him, but her wrath wasn't something he liked to experience when he found himself injured. Thomas learned his lesson about letting a woman into his business dealings.
He'd listen, but he wouldn't let another woman work for him properly.
Polly sighed heavily at his silence. She wasn't sure if he still thought about Grace and her betrayal, but judging by his silence, he did. She cut a glance at Maze, who watched her husband knowingly. Maybe Polly needed to speak to Maze about Thomas. She paused the idea. Mazella wouldn't speak to her about something private. The younger woman was annoyingly trustworthy. Turning to the safe, she spun the combination, cursing to herself.
Thomas listened as Polly spun the combination until the door creaked open. His head snapped to the side, catching Polly's angry face. He didn't care about her anger. He told her the plan for London. Assured her that nothing would go wrong and she still acted like this. Quickly, he snatched a stack of money from the safe and closed the door. The hinges squeaked loudly in the quiet room.
Maze rose from her seat, figuring they would leave shortly. She fluffed her hair lightly, glancing between Polly and her husband. Her hat and overcoat were hanging in the parlor. The conversation had been informative, yet they could cut the tension with a fucking knife. She witnessed several rows between Polly and Thomas over the years, and this was quite tame compared to some.
Thomas let his eyes rake over his mate. His very informative wife. She could find information about his enemies faster than he could. He couldn't find it in himself to care about using his wife's future knowledge to future his own ambitions. "Polly, I need to speak with Maze alone."
Polly looked up from her writing and frowned. She looked between Mazella and Thomas, noting the curious face on Mazella. Thomas kept his face passive. Frustrated that he wouldn't divulge any more information, she tossed the pen on the table and slammed the ledger closed. The chair scraped noisily against the worn hardwood floor. Her short heeled boots clacked loudly as she stomped out of the room and slammed the iron bar door closed.
Thomas beckoned his mate close to him. She sauntered over to him, her eyes filled with curiosity and amusement. He set the money on top of the safe before pulling her tightly to him. Spinning her around, he pressed her back into the door of the safe, making sure not to shove the handle into her lower back. Her eyes widened in surprise. Thomas glided his hands around her waist, sliding his hands down her arse.
Her blood rushed in her veins loudly, feeling his warm body pressed against hers. He dipped his head down, brushing his nose against hers. She felt his breath puff against her lips. "I've never asked you before, but I know you have information."
"Tom," she breathed, her eyes fluttering closed.
He grunted, her body stretching against his. Lust flared in his veins, his body aching to touch his mate. Strong fingers crushed the fabric of her dress, his head dipping down to caress her pulse point with his lips.
"I…. can't," she moaned, her neck arching to the side for his insistent lips.
He reluctantly moved his lips from her neck to look at her through lidded lips. "Oh, but you will. You will tell me what I want to know."
Maze groaned audibly. She knew this day would come to pass. She knew it ever since she told him about her being from the future in 1910. "I can't tell you everything because I don't know everything, Thomas."
Fingers brushed the side of her breast while another hand slowly unbuttoned her pale blue blouse. Lips descended on her warm olive skin. Maze closed her eyes and tipped her head back a little. The back of her head grazed the top of the safe. When her fingers wrapped around the handle of the safe behind her, she hoped it would keep her grounded.
Insistent lips descended on her, swallowing all her protests. Maze lost herself in his touch, his lips, and his insane desire for her. Thomas grunted, tugging her tighter to him. He didn't care if anyone saw them. Thomas exposed her body to his amber eyes, lust surging through him. The wolf whined in his head, demanding he move them to another place and claim her.
Kissing her puffy lips again, Thomas lifted one of her legs to wrap around his waist. He shuddered, feeling her familiar fingers shove his jacket off him. The fabric fell to the floor. Hastening her fingers, she slipped each button loose from the confines of his shirt, exposing his undershirt. He grunted, lust licking around the base of his skull.
A door slammed somewhere in the house, startling them. Thomas groaned, pulling away from his wife. He opened his amber eyes, seeing her lips puffy and swollen. He inhaled, trying to calm himself, but scented her arousal. "Fuck," he moaned into her shoulder.
Maze whimpered, his lips grazing the bite indention on her shoulder. Her cunt throbbed in anticipation, eager to be fucked by her husband. She could feel the strength in his hands as he caressed her body. He would have her. Multiple times tonight if he had his way.
His lips grazed the indention on her shoulder. Pain flared in his teeth, the ache to bite her intensifying the longer he kept her in his embrace. He would bite her tonight. The wolf growled in agreement. Before he released her, he ran his tongue over the indention. His body convulsed. With a grunt, he pulled himself away from her. Resting his hands on top of the safe, he dropped his head, resting the crown on her breasts.
"I want you home," he rasped, his voice rough. Looking up at her, he cupped her chin. "I want you home and naked."
Maze bit down on her lower lip, her eyes flickering over his face, and nodded. Her body ached for him. She'd give him what he wanted, regardless. With one last teasing kiss, Thomas released her. With trembling fingers, Maze re-buttoned her blouse and fixed her hair. He watched as she staggered toward the door, her hands gripping the iron bars tightly before stepping through the door and closing it quietly.
Thomas sighed, running his hands over his face. He viciously shoved aside the desire to chase his mate down. Re-buttoning his shirt, he fixed his waistcoat and jacket. Grabbing the small stack of money, he inhaled sharply and walked out of the room, and locked the door.
The house emptied after Maze left, leaving him alone in the silent house. Thomas took refuge in his old office, staring at the opposite brick wall as he fought with his nature. He wanted to chase after his mate and fuck her until dawn. Newmarket day sat heavily on his mind. He wasn't a praying man, but he let a small one slip for Newmarket day. Thomas was sure he'd catch the attention of Alfie Solomons.
The bonded warehouse would guarantee his ability to legitimize his business in London. He didn't exactly lie to Polly. The company would need an import/export license for the next step of his ambition. Securing the bonded warehouse in Camden town happened first, then he would acquire the proper paperwork for the next step. Each step was slowly coming into place.
He jerked the front door of the betting house open and stepped into the darkening evening. He shoved the key in the lock and twisted the handle before stepping away from the door. Thomas shivered a little against the cold and inhaled and fished a cigarette from his carrying case. As he lit the cigarette, he smelled rain in the air. It would rain tonight.
He sauntered down the Lane, lost in his thoughts. As the day neared its end, people were scurrying around, preparing to go home from work and wrap up their activities. The walk home would help clear his mind, but he knew the second he stepped into his house, he would find a naked and waiting mate. He would follow her succulent scent until he dove between her thighs. Hunting her like the prey she was and the predator he was. The thought alone spurred him to hurry.
Passing a narrow and dark alley, he stopped hearing a familiar scream. Furrowing his brow, he listened again and turned his head to look down the dark alley. He couldn't see anything, but inhaled sharply, smelling blood. Normally, he wouldn't give a fuck who was being hurt, but the scream sounded familiar. He cursed quietly and tossed the cigarette. Thomas stepped around waste and water until he came to two men manhandling a woman.
The woman screamed again as she fought against her two attackers. Thomas smelled more blood the closer he came to the scene. Normally, he'd stay out of something like this. Let the coppers handle it, if they did. The familiar scent of blood intrigued him to find out who it was.
Lizzie Stark fought like a demon against the two men that corralled her in the alley. Her screams became muffled when one of her assailants slapped her hard in the mouth before covering it with his beefy hand. Lizzie bit down as hard as she could on the palm of his hand. He roared, jerking his hand back from her mouth.
The other man grabbed her waist and shoved his hand on her back, forcing her to bend over. The second man, the one she bit, grabbed her by her hair. He raised her head up and slapped her hard across her cheek. Lizzie grabbed and tugged whatever she could grab. Her body contorted, trying to free herself.
Thomas rounded a sharp corner to see Lizzie Stark bleeding, and her skirt pushed over her hips. A beefy dark-haired drunk was holding her hips while his portly, balding mate held her head between his hands. He couldn't see her face, but he smelled blood in the air. Her fear permeated the surrounding air, making it bitter. Thomas pulled his gun from its holster and aimed first at the beefy man. He didn't blink when he saw blood splatter against the brick wall.
He turned the gun slightly to the left, the portly man staggered back and turned wildly to see Thomas standing there. The portly man fumbled behind his back to pull his gun to aim at him. Before the man could straighten his arm, Thomas squeezed the trigger, the bullet punching a hole through the portly man's forehead.
Thomas watched the man fall into a large dirty puddle with his trousers down his legs. Lizzie stumbled against the wall, holding her torn dress together to cover her. Tears and blood streaked across her face and bruises would form before morning. Thomas shoved his gun back in its holster and straightened his jacket before turning to Lizzie. Anger pulsed through him seeing her like this. He and Lizzie had history, but nothing for two years now. It didn't mean he stopped caring.
"Come 'ere, Lizzie," Thomas walked carefully over to her, his arms outstretched so she could see his hands. "Come on. They're dead." He saw her shivering in the semi-darkness and shrugged off his overcoat and handed it gingerly to her. She grabbed it quickly from his grasp and tucked it around her.
Thomas held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. "Let's get you home, yea?"
Lizzie nodded shakily and stumbled toward Thomas. She didn't take his hand, but she could feel his eyes watching her and it made her wonder why the fuck would he help her. She tightened his overcoat around her, smelling his natural scent on the lapels. They walked in silence until they reached the end of the alley. Thomas stopped them, looking left and right before ushering her onto the Lane.
"Why did you save me?" Lizzie blurted out, blinking through her afresh tears.
Thomas cut his eyes at her. "Did you want to be raped?"
"No, I," Lizzie swallowed, turning her head away from him. He was right. She didn't want to be raped and should be thankful Thomas found her in time. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she inhaled slowly. "Thank you."
A few minutes of silence passed when Lizzie had enough. "I'm doing a correspondence course. You know, using the typewriter."
Thomas let her talk. He preferred silence, but the incident rattled her. So he let her talk. Slipping his hand in his jacket, he found his cigarette case. He opened it up to find the last two sitting in there. Giving a little shake of his head, he plucked them out and closed the case. He handed one to Lizzie, who smiled at him before lighting her cigarette before his.
Maybe he'd hire her when she finished her correspondence course. He needed a secretary. It would get Lizzie out of prostitution. She wouldn't be rich, but she could live a comfortable life and as long as she didn't betray him, she'd always have a job. He'd give it some time and more thought.
"I 'eard you'll be going to London." Lizzie tried again to engage Tommy. She stepped around a large crack on the sidewalk.
Thomas spun his head at her. How in the fuck did she know that? He peered at her curiously. Lizzie averted her eyes from him. He stifled a growl. She talked to someone. He didn't know if it was Arthur or John. Thomas may need to remind them to keep their fucking mouths shut about business. He turned his head back to the sidewalk, his eyes looking toward the houses. Having been to her lodgings many times in the past, he had no trouble getting her to the front door.
"Aye," he nodded, giving her the tiniest information possible. He slowed his steps, coming to a stop, and watched Lizzie fish out a small key from a pocket on her dress. He waited patiently as she unlocked the door, shoving it open wide. A part of her fantasied he would come to her bed despite being married.
"When do you think you'll be back?" she asked, stepping into his personal space.
"No, Lizzie." Thomas stepped back and jerked his overcoat off her. He slipped it on, straightening himself before he looked at a stricken Lizzie. Thomas knew what she wanted, but there wasn't any way he'd give it to her. He saved her life, but she didn't need to fuck him to thank him. "Good night, Lizzie."
Thomas turned around and briskly left Lizzie's front step. He shoved a chilly hand in his pocket and shivered. Anyone might ask why he saved Lizzie Stark, but the horrifying thought of it being his wife instead sent him in a rage. The wolf snarled lightly in warning of the dangerous line of thinking. Just the thought alone would trigger a cloud of rage in him.
Something he didn't need going home to his wife.
He inhaled the cigarette; the nicotine calmed him. His walk continued in complete silence, lost in his thoughts. He arranged the guard for Maze two days ago. She grumbled about it, but consented anyway. It made him feel better knowing that someone would protect her. He didn't care what anyone thought. She was his, and it was his duty to protect her.
Glancing up, he saw the outline of his house. He wondered if Maze wanted a new house. Stowing the thought away for less busy times, he strolled up the well-maintained walkway. His thoughts drifted toward earlier this evening when he had his mate pinned to the safe. His eyes flashed, shifting from blue to amber as he grasped the handle and opened the front door.
His eyes adjusted to the brighter light as he opened the front door. He removed his overcoat, hat, and jacket. Thomas stood in the small foyer and wondered where his wife was. He requested her to be naked when he arrived home. He inhaled, quickening his chances of finding her, and groaned. Climbing the stairs quietly, he hoped his son was asleep by now. Sneaking past the semi-closed door of his son's room, he stopped at their door.
His body quivered, knowing his mate was on the other side… naked and waiting for him. He groaned, dropping his head on the wooden door, scenting her thick arousal. You naughty fucking woman was his last thought before he felt the wolf shove him to the side. The door handle cooled his overheated hand as he twisted the knob and pushed the door open.
Inside, laying on the bed, was his naked mate. Her arousal was strongest here, and he shuddered viciously. She leaned over the opposite side of the bed, exposing her bare arse to him. She didn't know he was in the room. When he set his gun holster on the table, she jumped lightly and turned around to see him standing there undressing.
When she moved to come to him, he stopped her. "Don't move." Maze eyed him and nodded, backing up on the bed to watch him.
Thomas stepped out of his trousers, leaving them in a puddle on the floor, and crossed the room slowly. His amber eyes tracing all over his mate's naked body. He watched as she rolled onto her back, her legs dropping open. His cock thickened painfully the second the pads of his fingers grazed her skin. Thomas rolled his neck around, inhaling the thick scent of arousal, and ambled onto the bed.
Maze propped herself on her elbows, watching him climb onto the bed, and in between her thighs. She had wanted him since the family meeting earlier. She moaned, dropping back onto the bed, feeling his lips graze her inner thigh. Her thighs shook gently, anticipating his touch.
"You did as I asked," he mumbled against her skin on her inner thigh.
She moaned incoherently, nodding her head against the pillow. Her hips rolled, urging him to slip his fingers between her folds. Her mouth opened, her back arched gently, feeling his thick fingers push between her folds. His movements were slow. Her cunt tightened around his fingers as her body shivered. His thumb brushed lightly over her clit.
Thomas groaned, dropping his head onto Maze's stomach. The scent of her arousal thickened under his touch. It excited and aroused him. Her body was incredibly responsive to his touch. Kissing her stomach, he fucked her cunt harder. When his lips wrapped around her sensitive nipple, he paused his fingers. He swallowed an angry cry from her lips and pulled his fingers from her cunt. He felt her hands slip down his body to reach between them.
He grabbed her wrists between his hands and pinned them on each side of her head. If she touched him, he'd lose what little control he had left. "Don't," he muttered into her neck, his tongue snaking out to caress the indentation mark. His teeth ached to bite down, reclaim the spot, and taste her flesh. A spark twisted down his spine, electrifying him. He pulled her into another kiss before sliding into her.
Polly Grey tightened her red overcoat around her. The foggy night swirled around her, clouding her sight, but she didn't need her eyes to know where she was going. She'd been there before. She hadn't taken her turn, but she was convinced this woman would help her. Help her figure out the awful dreams that plagued her.
Ahead, she saw her destination. Red lights illuminated a window beside a black door. She stopped for a second, wondering if this was the right thing for her to do. She didn't believe in mediums. Nothing else she tried worked. Inhaling deeply, she nodded her head and quickened her step. Opening the door, she stepped into a red light hallway. Down the hall, on the left, was the room to enter.
Inside, it was dark, with candles illuminating the room. The reddish-pink hue of the room gave off an otherworldly feeling. Polly pulled the hatpin from her hair and tucked it close to her. Taking a seat, she adjusted herself properly. A man, two women, and herself sat around a round table. The medium, an elderly woman, sat to Polly's left, waiting for everyone to get situated before starting.
Polly made no apologies for her lateness. The medium smiled at everyone once Polly was settled. "Let's begin."
"Hands on the table," the medium instructed, giving everyone a chance to do so. The woman looked around, welcoming the first new lady that sat close to Polly. Everyone listened as the woman wanted to speak to her husband, who she lost from the influenza. Polly listened, her heart beating in her chest, and she wished for a cigarette.
Polly flicked her eyes around when the medium's gaze landed on hers. "Who do you seek?"
"Truth is, I'm not even sure she is dead," Polly fumbled, pushing an errant lock of hair from her vision. "So I came here to find out." She nodded, completely sure she would find the answers she sought. Silence filled the air as they waited for more information.
Polly swallowed heavily and flitted her eyes around, gathering her thoughts. "You see, they took my children from me when they were young. The parish authorities took them and I never knew what happened to them. But lately," she paused, "I've had this feeling. I can't put it into words and I keep having a dream. I… In this dream, I see a pretty 18-year-old girl. She's standing across the street and she tells me," Polly paused, her breathing catching, "that she's crossed over."
Bitterness and pain filtered across her face, no matter how much she tried to hide it. The pain of losing both her children when they were young killed her inside every day. If it hadn't been for her family, she would have collapsed. A spot on the table caught her gaze as she refused to look at any of them. She didn't want to see the pity in their eyes.
"Now, I don't even know what name they gave her when they stole her from," she sneered, flexing her fingers lightly. The bitterness burned inside her deeply. "But if she wants to say goodbye, I thought this would be a good place."
"You're wearing the Black Madonna," the medium smiled serenely at her. "Are you gypsy?"
"The part of me that dreams is gypsy," Polly sniped at the woman. Fucking rude.
"I am gypsy." the woman motioned to herself. "May I ask your name?"
Polly narrowed her eyes at the medium. She didn't want people to know that Polly Grey went to see a medium. None of these people would keep their mouths shut. "My maiden name is Shelby." She glared at everyone, daring them to speak about this.
"So can we, uh," she scratched her nose, "start with me first."
Half an hour later, Polly Grey stormed out of the medium's office, crying and gasping for air. She was a woman mad in the head. What that woman told her, she refused to believe. Polly came here to find out about the girl in her dreams and an answer she got.
Her daughter, her precious daughter, was dead. She couldn't…. No, she wouldn't believe it.
"No," she gasped, tears flowing freely down her face. Polly twisted her step and stormed back to the medium's front door. Her mind was in a whirl. Anger that her dreams were right. Anger that her child was ripped from her years ago. A volcano of anger and bitterness spewed from her in that dark and empty alley.
Screaming in her pain, she wanted the Earth to swallow her up. "NO!" she screamed in the dark, unbelieving. "NO!" her voice echoed again. She ran her hands over her face. Hot, angry tears streamed down her aching face, dripping on her red wool overcoat.
"God, no… please," she sobbed, wrapping her arms around her tightly. Her daughter was dead. Alone, without her mother to soothe her in her last moments. She felt her heart shatter, bursting completely in that moment, never to be stitched correctly again.