by Bella Jacobs
It’s me. My face, my slim shoulders bearing the weight of the world, my hands balling into fists at my sides as I face down a being of ancient and utter evil with nothing but good intentions and a seventh-grade self-defense class under my belt.
I’m once again on the verge of being sick when suddenly the world goes bright white, and I open my eyes to find myself back in the present, but with my reality permanently altered.
Chapter 16
Creedence
I’ve just finished shifting back into my human form and tugged my clothes into place when Slim comes back from her vision quest. She looks even more worn and fragile than she did before, her face pale even in the warm sunset light.
It makes me want to box the Brit’s ears and slug Pooh Bear in the stomach for good measure.
Not many things make me violent anymore—I’ve made peace with the shit in my past, and these days I prefer to make love not war—but the way these two are treating the girl chaps my ass.
But there’s not a damned thing I can do about any of it. I’m as much a pawn as Wren is, one of many moving pieces in a game played by people who have far more money and power and influence than either one of us can even dream about.
Though, she could, conceivably, be the most powerful being in the world one day, this tiny thing with her big blue eyes, knobby elbows, and soft-spoken gentleness. Even her smart-ass comments come out so sweet, you just want to ruffle her hair and lay a kiss on her pink cheek.
She’s so innocent, so terrifyingly new and unspoiled. I want to believe she’s got what it takes to succeed where so many have failed, to live when so many have died, but it doesn’t look good for sweet Slim.
Even if she weren’t about as threatening as a baby deer wearing angel wings, recent history proves her chances aren’t great. Every Fata Morgana born in the past fifty years has been killed in the cradle, assassinated while they were still kids, or slaughtered on the road to Atlas’s stronghold before they reached the field of battle.
Atlas does not play fair.
Atlas does not have a single moral qualm about killing unarmed women and children.
And Atlas grows stronger with every mate he marries and devours, meaning each child born to challenge him has a smaller and smaller chance of taking that crazy motherfucker down.
But if things keep going the way they’ve been going—floods and famines, war and terror, plagues and cancers and new diseases being born every day—there won’t be a world to fight for much longer. Atlas and his shitty reign of unchecked evil will send this entire planet straight to hell, and every man, woman, child, shifter, animal, fruit, veggie, and spore will be destroyed in the flames.
Except maybe the spores…
Spores are some hardy motherfuckers.
In my next life, I’m coming back as a spore, I decide as Slim’s gaze moves from Dust to Kite to me and then back down the row, apparently seeing us with fresh eyes now that she knows what we’re really here for.
“I’m in charge of saving the world.” The fear in her tone makes it clear Dust’s psychic story time filled the gaps in her education. “Are you sure? There isn’t someone else? Another Fata Morgana out there somewhere?”
Dust shakes his head. “You’re the only one who’s lived this long, and you might be our last chance to fight back before it’s too late.”
“And you’re positive I am what you think I am?” she asks, desperation warring with resignation in her eyes. “I’ve never shifted into anything before, let alone lots of different things.”
“Without a shadow of a doubt,” Kite says. “I sent a strand of your hair into the resistance leaders to be sure. The DNA sequence is a match to every Fata Morgana on record.”
Her shoulders slump in defeat as she lifts her gaze to the darkening sky. “Well…I guess Fate could have picked someone worse.” She pokes out her bottom lip, rocking her head side to side. “Maybe. If she tried really hard.”
“I disagree,” Dust says softly, for once seeming to understand that people need time to adjust before he pushes on to the next item on his agenda. “You’re stronger than you know, and you’re going to get stronger every day. And we’re all here to help you. We’ll train, prepare, make sure you’re in top physical, mental, and shifter condition before we get anywhere near Atlas.”
“So you all have that mark?” she asks, blinking fast as she pulls her gaze from the nearly full moon rising overhead.
Dust draws up his sleeve, showing the star-shaped birthmark on his inner arm. Kite lifts his shirt and turns, baring an identical mark at the small of his back.
When Wren’s attention shifts my way I bite my thumb and bat my eyes, hoping to make her laugh as I say, “I don’t think you’re ready to see my mark, Slim. On account of you not being a butt girl and all.”
Her lips swoop up on the sides for half a heartbeat before going flat again, but even that is enough to make it worth playing the fool. I’m basically a prisoner here—or would be if I had been stupid enough to put up a fight like the wolf. My future, my life, my destiny no longer belong to me.
Nothing belongs to me, but when I can make people laugh, bring them out of the dark and into the light for even a second, I don’t feel like a piece of shit. I feel powerful, useful, like I have worth beyond serving as cannon fodder for a doomed cause.
It’s very likely we’re all going to die with her, or get picked off—one by one—along the way. Especially if we can’t win over the wolf.
I know that. The moment I was recruited as one of the Fata’s potential mates, I signed on the dotted line, swearing to give my life for her if necessary. I am replaceable; she’s not. I get it. It’s not personal, that’s just fucking logic.
But it still pissed me off.
Up until the moment Dust and Kite carried that bleeding girl into my car, I wasn’t happy about my role as an expendable bodyguard to some Chosen One chick I’d never met.
Then I laid eyes on her for the first time—this poor kid already poisoned, weak, and shot full of holes because fate decided she was born to die—and the chip on my shoulder fell clean off. And then she woke up in her sick bed and smiled at me, and something even crazier happened in my chest. If I didn’t know better, I would think it was my heart melting every time she looks at me with her old-new eyes, but I don’t have that kind of heart.
I’m not built for any of that sappy shit. Growing up, I learned the hard way that love never lasts and romantic love is the biggest con of all.
But I am built to be loyal to those who prove they deserve my loyalty. Somehow, within those first few seconds of eye contact, with those first few words, this girl earned mine, so when she says, “I guess we’ll all have to get to know each other better, huh?” and blushes pink for the fifth time this afternoon, I do my best to make things easy on her.
“But you set the pace, Slim,” I say, all joking aside. “You decide when you’re ready and what you’re ready for, and you don’t do anything because you feel obligated to do it. You do it because it feels right. Understood?”
“The bonds will strengthen you, no matter what you feel or don’t feel for any of us,” Dust says. “But bonds chosen out of affection and desire, maybe even love, those will give you the kind of power you’ll need to have a chance in this fight.”
“More importantly, it’s what we all want,” Kite pipes up, increasing my respect for our youngest boy scout. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into being with me, Wren. I want you to choose me because you want to choose me, the way I want to choose you.”
Wren and Kite lock eyes and some secret something passes between them that gives me no choice but to give them shit, “Okay, Romeo and Juliet, save it for when you’re alone. I’m too old to watch youngsters making puppy dog eyes at each other without getting sick to my stomach.”
Wren’s eyes cut my way. “Exactly how old are you, grandpa? You don’t look like you’re at death’s door.”
“Twenty-eight,” I say, nodding with mock s
eriousness. “So basically the only adult around this daycare center.”
Dust snorts and Wren’s mouth wrinkles as she clearly fights a smile. “So two years older than Dust, four years older than me, six years older than Kite…” She nods as if accepting the years separating us as vast and unbridgeable. “You’re practically a geriatric. Maybe we should check you into an assisted living center on the way to fight this crazy guy who eats his wives. Wouldn’t want you to break a hip on the battlefield.”
I grin. “I like you more with every passing minute, Slim. I appreciate this smart-ass side of yours. Helps balance out all that sweetness and light.”
Her smile fades as she turns back to Dust. “Speaking of sweetness and light, I don’t want to be the only one free to make choices that feel right around here. If the man in the basement doesn’t want to be here, it’s our obligation to let him go.”
“You’ll need a marked member from one of the canine clans to reach your full power,” Dust says, clearly underestimating Wren’s bleeding heart. I’ve only known the girl a little over an hour, and I can tell already that “the ends justify the means” defense isn’t going to fly with Slim.
As expected she shrugs. “Then we’ll have to find someone else, someone who’s willing to be part of this.”
Dust shakes his head. “You don’t understand. The mark is very rare in wolf shifters and their kin cousins. If we lose Luke, we might not be able to find another marked wolf in time. It could take years, and we don’t have that. We have months, if we’re lucky and manage to avoid the Kin Born and keep you off Atlas’s radar. Right now, he has no idea you exist. Being medicated suppressed your powers and his ability to track you, but when he finds out you’re a Fata Morgana—”
“Then we’ll move forward with four of us instead of five.” Wren slices a hand through the air when Dust starts to speak again. “This isn’t up for debate. If I become like Atlas, forcing people to serve me against their will, then I’ll be no better than this monster we’re trying to get rid of.”
“Not eating people would still be better,” I offer. I absolutely admire her for standing up for what she believes in, but we’ll all be safer if we’re five instead of four. “So you could just promise not to eat Luke—or any of us, really. If that’s something you’re comfortable promising this early in the courtship.”
Wren rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s charmed, at least a little. “Of course I won’t…” She shudders, her lashes fluttering. “I can’t even say the words, but yes. I intend to respect every one of you. From the start of this until the end and whatever lies between.” She pulls in a breath as she scans the three of us. “And I expect the same from you. So when I draw a hard moral line because I cannot, in good conscience, do what you’re asking me to do, I need you to respect that.”
Dust’s lips part but, after a moment he sighs, his shoulders drooping as the fight goes out of him. “All right. Then let’s go see Luke. But I recommend we explain what you’ve decided first, and free him after. Less chance of having our throats ripped out that way.”
Kite grunts as he ambles around the table. “I could take that guy. He’s even shorter than you, Dust.”
“He’s also a felon who just got paroled after serving seven years for a gang-related murder,” I remind Kite, in case the kid gets any dumb ideas about fighting Luke on his way out. “He’s lean, but he’s hard and fast, and he will absolutely fuck you up. Stay back and let the big kids handle this one, buddy. In fact, maybe you should head upstairs and have a nap, instead.”
Kite glowers at me but doesn’t respond.
“Nap time can be fun, Pooh-bie,” I wheedle.
Kite moves to take a swipe at me, but Wren steps between us at the last moment and Kite jerks his hand back so fast he nearly slaps himself in the face. “Don’t let him get a rise out of you. The more you respond, the more he’s going to mess with you. You know how to deal with guys like him. I saw you do it every day at the shelter.”
“I know.” Kite bites his lip as he shakes his head. “Sorry. He just gets under my skin for some reason.”
I get under his skin because he’s falling for this girl and he doesn’t want to share her. That’s as clear to me as the big bad moon rising in the sky and the anxiety creasing Wren’s pretty face as we turn to follow Dust inside.
But some things even I won’t say aloud.
I won’t shame this kid for falling in love, I won’t rub his nose in the fact that—unless she shuns me outright—I’m going to end up taking the girl he loves to bed. I’ll push the limits for a laugh, but I don’t believe in adding to the cruelty in the world.
There’s already plenty of that going around.
So I just clap Kite on the back in silent apology and follow the rest of them inside, wishing I’d stayed in my cat form. I haven’t learned many lessons that have stuck in my life, but “more human, more problems” is absolutely one of them.
Chapter 17
Wren
I follow Dust down the stairs into the semi-darkness of the basement with Kite and Creedence not far behind. Slowly, my eyes adjust to the gloom, and by the time I step off the final stair and onto the concrete floor, I can see well enough to pick my way through the stacks of boxes.
“We’ve got enough food, medical supplies, and training equipment to get us through two months without having to leave to restock,” Dust says, glancing over his shoulder as he circles around the staircase toward the darker portion of the basement. “Once you’re fully healed, we won’t have to worry about anything but training.”
“Or you won’t,” Creedence pipes up. “Dust has already assigned me laundry duty, and Kite’s in charge of meal prep and—”
He’s cut off by another howl of pain and outrage that makes me flinch, but Creedence simply smiles and adds, “And Luke’s in charge of screaming. So far, he’s kicking ass in his field.”
Dust stops in front of me, and I move to stand beside him, forcing myself to come fully into the small circle of light surrounding the man chained to the heavy chair in front of me, instead of peeking at him from behind Dust’s shoulder. I have nothing to be ashamed of here, but I can’t help but feel guilty. The olive-skinned man in front of me with the buzz cut and stubble thick on his face is clearly in pain. I knew that from the moment I heard him cry out, but instead of rushing to help him I took a break to hear a story about the end of the world.
But I can fix that right now.
I start toward the bound man, but Dust stops me, gripping my upper arm tight as Luke lets out a bone-chilling growl from low in his throat.
“That’s right, stay back,” he says, the words rough and raw. “Because if you get close enough, I’m going to rip your throat out first and ask questions never.”
“I was going to take off your chains,” I say, hating the way my voice trembles. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just—”
Luke’s bark of laughter is so caustic I can feel it stinging my skin. “That’s right, you’re not going to hurt me. You have no power here, princess. I know what you want, and you’re not going to get it from me. I’m nobody’s pawn, and I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last woman on the face of the earth.”
I blink faster, but stand up straight as I say, “Last I checked I hadn’t made any offers. And for what it’s worth I had no idea what was going on around here until a few minutes ago. I had no idea what I was, who I was, or how any of you were involved. But if I had known, I would have made certain that no one was brought here against his will. That’s not who I am. So assuming you can refrain from ripping my throat out for a few minutes, I’m prepared to let you go.”
His dark eyes narrow, glittering with suspicion. “That’s it? You’re just going to let me go?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“You realize I’m one of the only wolf shifters with this stupid mark, right?” he asks. “It’s rare. So rare the pack from L.A. had exactly zero issues with throwing me into a van and dragging me here in chains
, even though I’ve never shown those fucks anything but loyalty.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, meaning it. “Being betrayed by people you think you can trust is awful. And I was kidnapped, too, so I can empathize.”
Luke’s lip curls in a sneer. “You don’t look like a captive to me, sweetheart. You look like you’re the queen bee walking around free as you please.”
I sigh as I roll my shoulders, shocked by how much better my chest feels. “I’m not a queen and none of us is really free, not if the story Dust told me is true. And I’m inclined to believe it is. In my experience, people lie about a lot of things, but the fate of the world resting on the five of us joining forces to take down a cannibalistic monster would be a first.”
“The stranger the tale, the more likely it is to be true,” Creedence says, earning another growl from Luke, to which he responds, “Yeah, yeah, we get that you’re pissed, bucko. What you fail to realize is that this sucks for everyone, but you’re the only one pitching a big whiny diaper baby fit about it. Wren took the news like three times the man you are.”
“That’s not helpful, Creedence,” I cut in before Luke can say whatever is about to burst from his curled lips. “And I didn’t take the news like a man. I took it like a woman. Growing up female, you get used to dealing with unexpectedly crappy news. Like when I was twelve and my mother explained I’d be getting my period every month for the rest of my life.” Dust arches his brows in surprise and Creedence looks amused, but I press on. “Seriously. I mean, maybe that was slightly less of a bummer than finding out I’m the chosen one, but it still sucked. Periods are the worst.”
“My sister gets wicked cramps,” Creedence says with a nod. “They lay her up for days sometimes.”
“My ex-girlfriend, too,” Luke adds in an unexpectedly calm voice.
I glance his way to see his shoulders finally relaxed away from his ears and a thoughtful expression on his sculpted face. He’s a handsome man when he’s not snarling and spitting—even with the inch-long scar marring one cheek and the scary wolf tattoo curling around his neck.