by Nalini Singh
“Why tonight?” she demanded. “Why here, at this location?”
Shattered by her quiet recitation of the possible consequences of his actions, Zivko didn’t bother to fight his wolf’s need to answer her. “It’s a clear night and we heard that a ton of your pack would be in a far-off place, celebrating an event.”
The growls that emerged from multiple throats had Zivko freezing. Selenka barely kept her own wolf from ripping out the young male’s throat. “Who told you?”
He swallowed hard. “What?”
“Who told you we’d be away from our den?”
“I—I don’t know.” A frown, natural intelligence pushing past the fear and anger and aggression. “I should know. But it was another thing that just kind of came up—and it was like a few of us had heard it.”
“Is there anything else you think I should know?”
He swallowed again and, though he was drenched in sweat by now, found the strength to say, “We really didn’t want to hurt anyone.”
Selenka’s wolf felt both anger at those who’d let this pup down—and anger that a wolf this dominant and intelligent hadn’t stopped to think about exactly what he was about to do. “Intent doesn’t matter when the consequences of your actions were foreseeable and could’ve been devastating—your punishment will reflect that.”
Those who committed a crime on predatory changeling lands were subject to justice by those same predators. Human or Psy rules didn’t apply here. “Furthermore, you came onto our land on a day when we are grieving one of our dead.” The words were a hard slap. “You brought with you the specter of more death even as we buried a beloved packmate. We will not be merciful.”
Zivko completely crumpled at this point, well aware that she was within her rights to execute him. But he raised his head enough to say, “I’m to blame.” A rasp. “The others followed me.”
Well, perhaps this one was salvageable. She would see. For now, she nodded at Margo and Ethan to haul him back to sit among his compatriots, all of whom had heard the conversation. Terror marked each and every face, a long-delayed awareness that they had fucked up beyond anything they could’ve imagined.
“I’ve got a goddamn headache,” she muttered when Ethan, Margo, and Gregori came to talk to her in the aftermath. “I don’t think Zivko’s group came here with deadly intent, but someone else in that church does have such intent.”
“No one else will dare anything like this if we summarily execute the intruders.” Ethan’s voice was black ice.
“I’m with Ethan,” Gregori said, folding his arms across his chest; he’d pulled on a pair of pants the healers had brought down but was otherwise naked. The in-progress tattoo on the left side of his chest was angry and red—it took special DNA-bonded ink for a tattoo to remain on changeling bodies, and it wasn’t exactly gentle on the skin.
“I’m happy to rip their heads off with my bare hands,” he added.
Shooting her brother a long-suffering look, Margo stayed silent. But Selenka knew her security specialist was just as pissed as Gregori.
As for Ethan, it was becoming clear to her that he had very hard lines inside his head—and because her pack mattered to her, it now mattered to him. “Ethan,” she said, squeezing the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, “the two of us need to have a discussion about levels of punishment. Execution is reserved for the worst. In the interim, come to me for any such decisions.”
“I would regardless,” he said, as if that was self-evident. “It’s an alpha’s call.”
“I think you’re slightly crazy,” Margo said to Ethan while Gregori rumbled disagreement. “But I like that about you.” Hands on her hips, she curled her lip. “I want to kill them, too, but I can also see that they’re idiot pups.”
“Zivko isn’t a child.” Ethan’s tone was flat. “I’d assassinated fourteen people by the time I was his age.”
Rage burned hot against Selenka’s eyes, and this time, she didn’t fight it.
Thrusting her hand in the thickness of his hair, she fisted it tight and tugged him to her for a kiss. He kept his arms crossed throughout, and she had the feeling her once-emotionless Arrow was irritated with them all for not simply chopping off the intruders’ heads. His protective drive was a powerful beast, a creature with serious teeth.
Maybe others would’ve worried about his homicidal tendencies, but as he’d proven more than once, he’d back Selenka’s decisions even if he disagreed with them. The only exception, she knew without asking, was if it was her life at risk. She couldn’t really disagree with him on that point—she’d rip out the throat of anyone who came after him, too.
Her lieutenants were grinning at her—and her mate—when she broke the kiss, the unrepentant moment of joy an unexpected light in the darkness. Yes, Ethan had fans for life in Margo and Gregori, and the other lieutenants would follow their lead. “So,” she said to all of them, “since execution is out, what do you suggest as punishment?”
Gregori stirred, his features settling into a scowl. “For the wolves, hand-to-hand combat against pack wolves of their own age. We’ll make sure our people know not to go lethal, but these wolves will come out bruised and battered.”
Selenka considered that. Physical punishment might not work among the other races, but they were predatory changelings. Their wolves thought differently, viewed power and redemption differently. “But we don’t want it to be a humiliation.”
The entire reason Emanuel had lobbied in favor of Haven’s Disciples was because of worry for powerful lost wolves. A humiliation would ruin them . . . and destroy what her friend and lieutenant had sought to create. “Each bout takes place one-on-one, with no audience—though one of us will monitor it from where we can’t be seen or scented.”
“For the humans,” Margo said with a twist of her lips, “it’ll have to be incarceration in the local jail network.” Her dour tone made it clear exactly how happy she was with that option.
“No, they’re not getting off that easy.” Human and Psy jails were far too comfortable as far as Selenka was concerned. “I want them doing hard labor on our land until I decide they’ve done enough. Their wolf friends can join them after they recover from their bouts.”
“Yes, I like that much better.” Margo’s smile was all teeth. “Ethan, any recommendations for the Psy? Aside from execution since Selenka says we have to be civilized.”
“Hard labor.” Ethan’s pale eyes were glimpses of light in the dark. “But you also need to corral their minds so they can’t travel the PsyNet. I can handle that as all four are apt to be anchored in the same general psychic area.”
It was a good point and one Selenka might not have considered without Ethan. But she shook her head at his offer. “I don’t want you wearing yourself out doing the monitoring on your own—especially as it’s going to be a couple weeks at the least.”
A change in Ethan she couldn’t pinpoint, a savage twisting of the coldness inside her.
Clenching her gut on the promise she’d get to the bottom of whatever was happening, she said, “I’ll talk to Kaleb, get us psychic backup from one of his private security teams.” It was a considered political decision. “Having him in play will make it crystal clear what Psy risk when they decide to mess with this territory.” No one in the psychic race wanted Kaleb’s attention.
Selenka had gone toe-to-toe with the cardinal telekinetic more than once, but she appreciated him as another alpha. A deadly one. Peace held in Moscow because she stayed on her side of the line and he on his. Same with Valentin. All three predators keeping a respectful eye on each other—and cooperating on matters that affected more than one of them.
“But that’s all for tomorrow.” She waved over the senior healer in the team. “Will any of the intruders die if left to spend the night here?”
“No,” Tana said at once, her husky voice even rougher after th
e emotional intensity of Emanuel’s funeral. “The cauterization was incredibly precise. It sealed off the tiniest of blood vessels.” She looked at Ethan with a definite glint in her eye. “You’d be handy to have in delicate operations.”
Ethan stared at her as if she’d diagnosed him as having grown wings and horns. “My ability is a weapon.”
Tana arched her eyebrows. “I can use a scalpel to stab you dead. Doesn’t mean it’s not also a tool of medicine.”
Ethan’s dubious expression didn’t change but he said, “Feel free to call on me if you believe I can provide assistance.”
Tana nodded before returning her attention to Selenka, her brown eyes tired and the usually glowing dark of her skin dull. “The injured will be fine, especially with the first aid we rendered and if we give them a blanket each.”
She smoothed back curls that had escaped the tight bun she preferred to wear while working. “I hate to leave them out here when they’re so scared, but a little hardship might knock sense into them.” Tana’s eyes flashed. “I’ve been telling them about burns and what they do to a body.” That explained the renewed devastation and tears on more than one face. Nope, it wasn’t a good idea to piss off a healer.
Selenka touched Tana on the cheek, alpha to distressed packmate, and the healer turned into her touch. Leaning in, Selenka nudged up her chin and gently pressed her lips to Tana’s, giving the healer the strength of pack that ran in Selenka’s veins. “This dark night is almost done, lastochka. Soon you can rest your healer’s hands.”
Only after Tana had taken a deep breath and nodded did Selenka walk over to the intruders. There was no gentleness in her now, nothing but tempered fury. “You’ll be spending the night out here, under the trees you tried to destroy, with the ugly scent of fuel to keep you company.”
Growls filled the clearing at the reminder of what the intruders had intended to do, the hell they’d nearly unleashed. “Don’t try to escape unless you want to die under wolf claws and teeth.” Selenka’s wolf took grim pleasure in the acrid fear coming off the intruders’ bodies. “Your punishments are to be as follows.”
Only the six changelings—the four wolves and two nonpredatories—looked relieved after she stopped speaking. She decided to make the situation crystal clear to the others. “If I wished, I could claw you bloody, then throw your mauled bodies out on the road as a warning, and Enforcement wouldn’t lift a finger to help you—because we own you now.”
Chapter 20
It is agreed by all parties that the final treaty will formalize what is already accepted fact: that on lands held by predatory changeling groups, whether pack, clan, or family, it is that group’s laws that hold sway. No interference by outside parties will be countenanced.
—Adrian Kenner, peace negotiator, Territorial Wars (18th century)
HEADS JERKED UP, throats moving as the shocked Psy and humans finally realized the shit they were in. Wolf in her eyes, until she knew the reflective glow had to be eerie, Selenka pointed to the right. “Do you see that wolf? His name is Ilarion and he is only eighteen years old. A disciplined young male of my pack who’d die to protect those weaker than him.
“He would never think to go into the territory of another people and threaten their home and their vulnerable. You are all older than him. Yet I wouldn’t trust any of you to watch so much as a kitten.”
Shame suffused more than one face. Zivko’s head fell forward, and the other wolves couldn’t meet her gaze, either.
Leaving them to stew in their shame, she nodded at Ilarion and his fellow soldier trainee to begin passing out the blankets they’d brought down at Tana’s request. The two strong young wolves were an asset to her pack, and she made sure they saw her pride in them.
That in progress, she turned to Gregori, Ethan and Margo having gone to help the healers pack up. “You okay to handle security here overnight?”
“No problem.” From his tone he’d enjoy glowering at the intruders. “Cuffs on or off?”
“Go with your instincts.” Blood hot, she pulled out her phone. “I’m going to talk to Blaise.” Stepping into the trees, she didn’t bother to introduce herself when the leader of Haven’s Disciples answered at the other end. “Fifteen of your people aren’t going to be coming home today. They are guests in BlackEdge territory.”
A small silence before Blaise said, “How badly are they injured?”
Selenka told him. She also told him the extent of their attempted crime.
Blaise swore. “I’ll punish them myself,” he said. “And I won’t go easy—you can count on it.”
“I won’t. They won’t be coming home until they’ve completed their punishment.” She had no faith in Blaise’s ability to control his people. “We’ll set up temporary accommodations for them here.” It wouldn’t be much more than tents and sanitary facilities, but the group was lucky she hadn’t followed the approach taken by California’s SnowDancer wolves: shoot first and ask questions of the corpses. Though that stance was looking more and more attractive.
“You can’t do that,” Blaise said, and for the first time since they’d met, there was a growl in his tone. There it was at last: a glimpse beyond Blaise’s suave and civilized facade. He remained a wolf under the skin, and that wolf thought it could best an alpha of Selenka’s strength.
A younger Selenka would’ve gone for his throat for the insult. Alpha Selenka Durev noted the slip and stored it for consideration. Blaise had just gone from a tolerated annoyance to a threat. Because what were the chances that a man who liked to control his flock would be unaware of their actions?
He was arrogant enough that things could be taking place under his nose, but the flip side was more likely to be true—that it was Blaise who’d manipulated Zivko and the others to an act that could’ve led to a catastrophic and heinous outcome.
Selenka was within her rights to order the Disciples out of the territory, but this wasn’t about simple annoyance any longer. She wanted them in her sight so she could get proof that would mean the end of the Disciples once and for all—Blaise wouldn’t be getting the chance to get his hands on other vulnerable wolves.
“Our laws are clear and your people broke them,” she said on a growl of her own that shut him up. “Do not show your face anywhere near my territory, Blaise. You—or anyone you send—will end up without a throat.”
She hung up without waiting for a response, then located Ethan. Seeing Gregori had the situation in hand and that Margo had decided to hang with her far grumpier younger brother, she said, “Walk with me.” She could’ve ordered one of her people to bring down a vehicle earlier, but she’d known she’d need time in the forest to resettle her skin, be the alpha her grieving pack needed.
“I can return afterward to help Gregori,” Ethan said fifteen minutes after they’d stepped into the dark embrace of the trees.
Halting, Selenka touched her fingers to his jaw. “No. I need you to stay with me.” It was difficult for her to admit to such need even to the man who was her mate, but Ethan’s openness spoke to the wild girl she’d once been, the one who’d worn her heart on her sleeve and had it kicked for her trouble.
“For my pack,” she told him, “I must be alpha. Yes, I can let down my hair with my lieutenants and my friends, but I can never be anything but their alpha. It is in my skin and it is who we are.”
The light-fractured ice of him, jagged against her senses and riven with static, his pale eyes locked with hers. “The hierarchy always exists,” he said, as if working through her words. “Whether or not you acknowledge it at any one time does not mean it’s no longer there. I am outside the hierarchy, and thus, you don’t have to be Alpha Durev with me, can be Selenka.”
“If that was all it took,” she said, continuing to stroke the bristled roughness of his jaw, stomach tight and wolf filled with pride, “all an alpha would have to do was make a close friend or two outs
ide of the pack.”
Ethan tilted his head slightly to the side, an action common amongst wolves. She wondered if he even realized he’d picked up the small motion. It fascinated her, how he was already integrating with her pack while remaining resolutely himself. No one would ever mistake Ethan for anything but an Arrow.
“It has to do with the bond between us,” he said, pupils flaring. “Even with the interference, I can sense you within me, a primal wolf who . . . values me.”
Selenka wanted to kill anyone who had ever hurt him and made him feel lesser. Closing her hand over his nape, she spoke with her lips against his. “Just know that you are the one person with whom I am not Alpha Durev. To you, I am and will always be Selenka. And you are and will always be mine.” It was a growl, her wolf in agreement with the human part of her that this man was worth the risk to her heart. “You are mine first and you will always be mine first.”
Making no effort to hide the embers that burned inside him, his hands possessive on her hips, her extraordinary, complex, deadly mate considered that for a long moment. “Am I your Zaira?”
It took her a second to place that name—Aden Kai’s mate didn’t court publicity. Like most of the Arrow squad, she preferred to live in the shadows. But her link with Aden meant she had a certain profile, especially among those who worked with the squad.
Selenka had seen Aden and Zaira together only once, but it had been enough for her to understand theirs was a mating. Maybe Psy didn’t call it that, but it didn’t change the fact the two were bonded to the core.
“Who is Zaira to Aden?” she asked, wondering how Ethan saw the relationship.
“Knight to his king.” The starlight barely penetrated the canopy, yet what light there was seemed drawn to the angles of Ethan’s face. “As I am the knight to your queen.”
Selenka frowned. “I don’t think Aden thinks of himself that way in relation to his mate, and I don’t think of myself as queen over you.” Mates were equals always. “You’re my knight only in the sense that you’re my permanent and forever backup.”