by Bella Jacobs
“Don’t,” Kite snaps, lifting his gaze from our tangled fingers. “Don’t use the deaths of my people to make your point. We get it. We all understand what’s at stake.”
“I don’t think you do,” Luke offers in a silky voice so relaxed that, if it weren’t for his endless pacing, I would think he didn’t care about any of this. Any of us. “Someone put a tracking device on the Hummer. If we hadn’t found it, the people hunting Wren would have found us. And the person who put them on our trail is someone we think we can trust.” He pauses, glancing Cree’s way. “I’m sure, if I weren’t the one who suggested we do a sweep, I’d be a suspect.”
“Maybe you still are,” Creedence says with a dangerous smile. “Maybe you’re playing a long game, pretending to be our buddy now so we’ll relax our guard and give you the chance to really stick it to us later.”
Luke smiles back. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be breathing right now, brother.”
“I’m not your brother. And I’m done with this conversation.” Creedence snatches the keys from the table near his chair. “I need some fucking air.”
“Please, stay.” I swing my feet to the floor, standing between the two rumpled beds where we all slept poorly last night. “Please Cree,” I plead as he starts for the door. “We need to be on the same page, and that won’t happen if you leave. We need you here. I need you here.”
He glances over his shoulder, his wild gaze softening. But he doesn’t move back into the room. “I’ll bring back something to eat,” he says, his shoulders hunching closer to his ears. “All of you assholes are getting too skinny.”
He slips out the door, leaving silence filled only by the hum of the tiny refrigerator hidden beneath the television.
A part of me wants to go after him, but not to insist he come back and finish the discussion we’ve started.
I want to slam into the battered Mustang convertible we bought three towns back and go for a ride. I want to put the top down and go fast, until the wind rushing past my ears drowns out all the ugliness and fear and the terrifying possibilities I can’t quit dreaming about every time I fall asleep.
But heroes, even ill-suited ones like me, don’t get to run away.
It’s not part of the job description.
I prop my hands on my hips and dig back in. “It could have been Carrie Ann. Or my parents.” My voice catches on the last word, but I clear my throat and push on, “They all got close enough to the Hummer to slip the tracker under the bumper.”
“Or it could have happened on the reservation,” Kite says. “My sister knew we were planning to take the Hummer when we left. She could have told someone who told someone. I don’t like to think about any of those people turning traitor, but it’s possible.”
“Or your sister could be the rat,” Luke says, earning a glare from Kite so intense I shift forward, positioning myself between the two men—just in case.
“It’s not Leda,” Kite snaps. “She’s family.”
“And Carrie Ann is like a sister to Wren,” Luke says gently—for him—but I can tell Kite isn’t taking it that way. “And her adopted parents raised her since she was four years old. It fucking sucks when people we love betray us, but it happens. Even with our ride-or-die crew.”
“I don’t like to think it could be someone any of us knows,” I say, jumping in before Kite can explode. He’s usually a peacemaker—so is Creedence, for that matter—but we’re all on edge. “But I’m even less inclined to believe it’s anyone in this room.” I lift a hand toward the door. “Or anyone who recently left the room. You’re all good at shielding, but you also all drop your guard every now and then, and I haven’t felt a whiff of that kind of malice from any of you.”
“Me, either,” Kite seconds.
I gained access to and amplified Kite’s empathic gifts when we mate-bonded last week. Now we’re both capable of reading an average, unguarded person’s intentions in about six seconds flat.
Luke, Creedence, and Dust have been working on psychic shielding in order to keep us out of their personal business, but I still catch my share of unchecked emotional responses.
Luke is angrier, and more hurt, than he lets on. Dust is tormented by guilt. And Creedence secretly wants comfort so badly, sometimes it’s all I can do not to sneak up behind him and hug him until he can’t breathe. But none of them seem to want to hurt me, or each other.
Even this morning, when Creedence came back from that trance he goes into when he’s seeing the future. He’d been red-faced and so angry that he railed at Dust for five minutes straight before anyone could get a word in edgewise, but he didn’t truly want to hurt him.
He just wanted to strangle him.
Lightly.
For a prolonged time…
“But you didn’t pick up on Dust’s secret,” Luke says, always willing to play the devil’s advocate—or just the devil, depending on his mood. “We might be better at hiding shit than you think.”
“We can’t read thoughts,” Kite says wearily. “We pick up on emotional resonance. Dust feeling upset about our handlers being taken out blended in with Dust feeling upset that my people were murdered at a party. Both are very different than Dust meaning any of us harm.”
Luke shrugs. “Maybe Dust is feeling upset about having to murder us in our beds tonight, too. Not everyone approaches homicide the same way.”
“Enough,” I say, my tone sharp. I’ll tolerate a lot from Luke, but not kicking a man who’s already down. Dust is swimming in regret. The last thing he needs is Creedence and Luke both on his ass. “That part of the discussion is over. Dust kept a secret he shouldn’t have. He’s sorry, and it won’t happen again. It’s time to move on. If you can’t do that, then you can leave. We won’t try to stop you.”
“If I leave, you’re down to three little helpers, Princess. Maybe two if the cat doesn’t come back.” Luke’s dark eyes glitter as he faces me down across the room. “You sure that’s what you want, chica?”
What I want is for Luke to go all in, to promise he’ll be here today, tomorrow, and for as long as it takes to dethrone Atlas and shut down every other threat to the survival of our people and this planet. I want him to say that he respects my perspective and values—even if he doesn’t agree with them—and that he’s willing to work to find common ground between hopeless naïveté and ruthless cynicism.
Even more than all that, I want him to confess that he feels it, too, this super-powered pull that snatches at my chest every time we’re breathing the same air.
I treasure Kite as my first love, I adore Dust as my oldest friend, and when I’m not too miserable and scared to access other emotions, I want to get close to Creedence—really close and really naked—and for him to do all those wicked things he promised to do the one time we kissed.
But with Luke…
With Luke there’s something else, something primal and a little scary but that I desperately want to learn more about. I want to reach out and touch my fingertips to his flame, even if it burns me. But all he wants is a fresh start north of the border, and he doesn’t even want that badly enough to fight for a place in this circle of five.
If I tell him to go, he will.
For a moment, I consider it. Because that’s one of the things Luke does to me, too. He makes me crazy and inclined to do stupid, impulsive things.
Instead, I force myself to say, “No, I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay, but I need to move on to the problem-solving portion of the discussion. Our handlers are dead, we can’t be certain the safe house they arranged for us is safe, and we can no longer count on financial, logistical, or any other form of assistance from the outside. We’re on our own, and it’s time to sort out where we go from here.”
Luke holds my gaze for a long beat. “All right. I vote no on the safe house. It’s too much of a risk.”
“I agree,” Dust seconds softly. “Though, it might not be a completely lost cause. I could go in alone, bring back anything I fin
d that might be useful.”
“Useful like what?” Luke prompts. “Passports? Money?”
Dust nods. “Those things. There might also be medicine and gear for the crossing. Even in summer it can get below freezing in the mountains at night. We’ll need to be prepared for the weather.”
“We could cross in kin form instead.” I recently added a fox to my repertoire of alternative shapes, and I’ve been practicing shifting into kin form at will. Without accessing my spirit world, where Atlas is waiting to take me out, it isn’t easy, but I’m getting there.
Slowly, but surely.
“At least one of us will need to go over as human,” Dust says. “To carry money, passports, any additional weapons we acquire between now and then.”
I nibble my thumb, thoughts racing. “Okay, but I’m going with you to the safe house.”
“Absolutely not,” Dust says, at the same moment Luke grunts, “Hell, no.”
“Hell, yes.” I stand up straighter. “I’m the logical choice. My fox is the smallest kin form, so Dust can easily carry me on his back. But my fire form is dangerous, so I’ll be able to offer backup if our enemies are waiting for us.”
“You’re forgetting one important thing,” Dust says. “I’m replaceable. You’re not.”
I feel warm fingers on my wrist and look up to find Kite standing beside me. “He’s right. I know you prefer to think of the good of the group, but this is our reality now. If we lose you, we’re all lost. You’re the only one who can stop Atlas. Your safety has to come first. We all know that, and none of us resent you for it.”
Glancing around the room, I see the truth of his words reflected in Dust’s sober expression and even Luke’s relatively calm eyes. “Okay,” I say tightly, my breath rushing out. “But I have to do something. I can’t just sit here, locked in a hotel room, trying not to get killed.”
“We’ll start your training tomorrow.” Luke motions toward the woods outside our sleepy little motel. “We’ll start with a two-mile run, get you warmed up while we’re ditching civilization, and then I’ll teach you how to suck less at kicking ass.”
His tone makes me feel prickly all over, like one of those cactuses that shoot spines when you get too close to them, but I nod and say, “Okay, sounds good,”
Because I am an adult.
I am a grown-up, I am a grown-up, I am a grown-up. It’s a mantra I repeat a lot these days, when I’m wondering why I’m the one in charge of remaining rational all the time, when I am—
1. The youngest member of our five, aside from Kite, who is still light years ahead of me when it comes to life experience.
2. The least knowledgeable about shifter rules, limitations, powers, risks, customs, and—oh, yeah—actually being able to shift into one of my kin forms.
3. The newest recruit on this mission. Dust, Kite, and Cree have been plotting and planning together for months. And sure, Luke was kidnapped around the same time I was, but he’s a former werewolf gang member who spent years in prison and is infinitely more prepared to fight a supernatural war than I’ll ever be, even if we had a hundred years to whip me into shape.
4. Scared. I am so, so scared.
I’m as terrified as I am determined to see this through.
I want to save the world, I really do. I want to give all the innocent people out there struggling to survive on our increasingly hostile planet a shot at a brighter tomorrow, but I still feel so helpless and small.
I am one girl.
One woman, but just barely.
At twenty-four, I know I should feel like a full-fledged grown-up, but until Kite spirited me away from my house two weeks ago, I still lived with my parents. I have never lived by myself, never gone to bed without hugging my mother and father goodnight, never woken up in the morning without being greeted by the smells and sounds of people who love me cooking breakfast down the hall.
But the people who loved me are also the people who poisoned me, who nearly killed me and my sister. That ugly, undeniable fact worms into my heart, eating away at the organ I’ve always trusted to be my touchstone.
How can I follow my heart, when my heart has been a fool that couldn’t tell the difference between unconditional love and absolute control? How can I lean into the bonds I’m supposed to form with these men—the one I’ve already formed with Kite—when a vicious new voice in my head constantly reminds me that I’m an idiot who shouldn’t have the luxury of letting my guard down. I can care about other people, but I can’t let myself need or depend on them. I can’t allow myself to let go and become so horribly vulnerable ever again.
Just imagining it makes me feel like I’m suffocating, like I have to claw my way free of the bonds tightening around me, even though these bonds are my only shot at survival.
“Want to go for a walk?” Kite asks.
“It’s raining,” I murmur even as I decide I don’t care and nod. “But yeah. I’ll grab my poncho and meet you downstairs.”
I snag my poncho from the closet and head for the door without looking at Luke. I’m as frustrated with him as he is with me and that’s not going to be resolved any time soon. Maybe ever. We might very well spend the next few months resenting each other and part ways at the end of the summer, never to cross paths again.
The thought makes me angry. And resentful.
And stupidly sad.
“Hang in there,” Dust says as he opens the door to let me out. “It’ll get better. We’re going to be okay, I promise.”
I reach out, squeezing his arm in what I hope is a reassuring way. But I don’t say a word before stepping out onto the covered walkway and starting toward the concrete stairs leading to the ground floor.
I’m not sure we’re going to be okay, and I refuse to tell lies—not to myself or to anyone else.
UNTAMED is Available Now
About the Author
Bella Jacobs loves pulse-pounding action, fantasy, and supernaturally high stakes, mixed with swoon-worthy romance and unforgettable heroes. She's been a full time writer for over a decade and is deeply grateful for the chance to play pretend for a living.
She writes as Bella for her trips to the dark side and can't wait to take you on her next adventure.
Visit her at www.bellajacobsbooks.com
Also by Bella Jacobs
Wolves of New York Series
Wolf King
Wolf Pawn
Wolf Queen (Summer 2021)
The Dark Moon Shifter Series
Unleashed
Untamed
Unbroken
Supernatural in Seattle Standalone Romances
Fangs for Sharing