Aching Silver (House of Wolves Book 1)

by Amber Naralim

The truth in his expression eased some of her anxiety but a kernel of it planted deep and it was already growing roots.

  16

  Chapter

  “This is a bad idea,” there he said it.

  “We can’t keep this a secret.” Nora shook her blond curls.

  “Nora, your grandfather has been trying to get rid of John since your dad died. He’s looking for any excuse.”

  “That’s exactly why we have to get ahead of this.”

  Abel bit his tongue but she could tell he had more to say. He huffed out an annoyed breath. Abel paced the dark hardwood at his feet. She laid her hand on his chest.

  “I will handle this.”

  Abel looked at the intricate details of the expensive rug. He didn’t say that she couldn’t. He didn’t tell her that with everything she did for this clan Worthington treated her worse than he treated him and his brothers and that was damned hard to do. And he certainly didn’t tell her that she was only Folk. He didn’t say it because she already knew.

  “Trust me,” she whispered.

  Abel licked his lips. He nodded but it was reluctant. Nora moved past him toward the door. Abel grabbed her wrist.

  “I won’t let it happen. I’ll kill every damned one of them that comes after him.” It wasn’t a threat. His eyes were soft. His trembling fingertips vibrated through her.

  Nora stopped and walked back to him. She dropped her head to one side. “This is our home, Abel. This is your family.”

  “Not if he hurts my brother.”

  Nora straightened her shoulders and with a hardened chin promised, “It won’t come to that.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Nora sucked in a breath that moved her ample chest. She couldn’t exactly argue against his fear. Abel had every right to it. Stephan Worthington was not the honorable man she once knew. It was harder than she liked to admit that. It was harder still to watch a great man fall before your eyes. Nora hated manipulating Abel. If there was any man out there that deserved her trust it was Abel Merrick. She took his hand. Stared into his face the truth balanced on her tongue.

  “This is our home,” she repeated. “We fight for it. We die for it. And one day it will be mighty again.”

  Abel’s mouth dropped open. Conner came up behind him and Nora forced a smile. It was weak and brittle and Conner saw right through it. Nora was not on her game and that didn’t bode well.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  “Just fine. You ready?” Nora said.

  Conner shrugged. Their plan was as solid as it was going to get. He’d rehearsed the story a million times. It was believable. Conner was the best representative of their pack. Johnny’s shame was a stain upon them that no amount of blood or water would ever wash clean. Abel was a terrible liar. That meant it was up to him to save Johnny and Zoe. And he knew just how they could pay him back.

  The door opened. Jack Trager’s shaggy brown hair and messy stubble didn’t jive with the three-piece, grey suit he wore. The knot of his silk tie was crooked. The butt of two guns peeked out of his jacket. He looked uncomfortable. Abel understood why. He’d been in his place before.

  Worthington’s guards dressed a certain way no matter their station before the rotation. Jack wasn’t used to his human form. Born a wolf, he didn’t like them very much if truth be told. It took him years to get this civilized. He gestured with his hand.

  “It’s time,” Nora announced a little nervously.

  She gave Abel’s hand a reassuring squeeze and followed Conner through the intricate millwork. Abel paced. The door closed and his heart leapt into his throat. For the first time since he was twelve, he wished his mother was here. Even Worthington feared her. He pinched the bridge of his nose whispering prayers for his brother’s safety.

  Gleaming hardwood and floor to cathedral-ceiling, latticed windows framed a dais with an ornately carved chair at its center at the back of the grand hall. Rain cascaded down their surface giving the rolling hills and jeweled trees beyond the etherealness of an impressionist painting. Heavy wood beams spanned the expansive space cradling the imposing iron chandelier, two tiers with twelve lights on each. She shifted her shoulders uncomfortably. Nora had been nervous standing beneath it since she was six.

  Jack took up a position blocking the door they’d come through. Nora and Conner shared a look. Double doors on the other side of the room opened and Stephan Worthington shuffled through them.

  His lanky form was hunched and frail. He fought to stand tall, shoulders razor straight, but anyone could see the effort it took. His Armani suit did much to hide his infirmities. Black with soft grey pinstripes, his tie was red as blood, white shirt, crisp and tailored. He sank into the chair grateful for its support.

  Pity chipped away at Nora’s mask of neutrality. She longed to run her fingers through his downy hair, and comfort him the way she used to. She even stepped forward but stopped short the moment Michael Risguard danced through the door.

  That’s what he did. Perform. His craft was subtle grace. Risguard never let you concentrate on any one thing. He was all about misdirection. He kept your eye on what he wanted you to see. Young and cocky, he was simply better than you.

  Michael Risguard had been the bane of her existence for the past year. He cut an imposing figure in his shiny Navy colored suit. Two tasteful buttons opened the collar of his dark shirt. His cropped bleach-blond hair styled spiky and wild. His piercing glare and disappointed smirk sent a shiver down her spine.

  Nora stiffened. She refused to let him intimidate her.

  “My request was for a private audience,” she declared.

  Michael smiled. It oozed slimy charm. “You’ve been so busy lately, chasing ghosts and fairytales. Your grandfather has asked me to scribe for him. Somebody had to step up.” His smug self-adulating tone was only outdone by his accusation.

  Conner smirked cruelly. “A Potential with your impeccable blood doing the work of regular Folk? How magnanimous of you.”

  Nora ignored the insult. She was more annoyed that Conner would try to provoke him. Risguard was dangerous. Even more so now that he had her grandfather’s ear.

  “Those ghosts and fairytales murdered a family. Ripped them to bloody bits,” she interrupted the war of words about to start.

  Michael scoffed. “It’s a few humans?”

  Nora took in a breath. She bit back on a scathing retort and went for making her point. “Every human Isaak slaughters brings unwanted attention from the police and media. The news report called him a savage monster and wondered how anything human can shred bodies and tear off limbs,” she argued. “Isaak has ties to you and me and especially the Worthington line. It won’t take the humans long to connect the dots. By all means, continue to ignore his machinations but I warn you he will bring down our entire clan.”

  Michael swallowed hard and fell silent. Nora adjusted her cat-eye glasses and her tone.

  “We have come to ask permission of you, grandfather.”

  “For what, girl?”

  Worthington’s rheumy blue eyes focused on her. She was just a little afraid the Alzheimers had taken him completely. But those moments of lucidity when the specter of the man she knew and loved possessed this broken and crumbling body kept her hoping.

  “We believe we have found a wayward Kin.”

  “And the first shift?”

  “She has not made it yet.”

  “What makes you think she is Kin, then?” Michael interjected.

  Nora ignored him and kept her grandfather’s eye. She smiled. “I’ve lived my whole life around you. I know the Kin, grandfather.”

  “Very well bring this wayward pup home. We shall watch her shift. If she can control it, we welcome her. If not…” he left the last bit hanging in the nether.

  Nora sighed in relief, nodding. That bought them a month.

  17

  Chapter

  Nora wandered the long hallways of this dilapidated mansion. With hundreds of hand
s and plenty of skill, it had still fallen into disrepair. Almost like this place knew what was happening inside it when no one else was privy to the secret.

  Built on a place of power sacred to the Kin, the Worthington line ruled over it for generations. Then along came them. Grandfather slipped a little further out of her grasp by the day. But he made plenty of mistakes before the sea of his mind frothed and seethed. The ley-lines war for example.

  Nora pushed at the thought of it. It was too shameful to even consider.

  Isaak willingly gave himself to madness. Despair drives us all to do things we’d never consider normally, but that was no excuse. Not for what he did. Not for the people he hurt.

  Alex was no better. Hiding in Las Angeles tail tucked firmly between his legs. Sometimes she understood running. Even thought about it once or twice. Nora would never survive the guilt of leaving these people here to suffer, of letting their home languish away or worse let that grasping weasel Michael Risguard snatch it and destroy its legacy.

  Nora was powerless to stop any of it, truthfully. But for the grace of fate and a few chromosomes. Hampered by a voice no one listened to. Forced to use back channels and manipulation to get anything done, her hands were tied. That didn’t mean she’d ever stop trying though.

  She opened the third door on the right. Her bedroom seemed an alien landscape. Her personal space since her mother dropped both her and her twin brother Alex off and never looked back. They were five. For a long time, Nora harbored a grudge against the woman. With time and a little perspective, she began to understand why her mother wanted nothing to do with this life, especially without Nora’s father to live it with her. But it stung like a bitch then, and to be honest there were still some nights that wound was raw and sucking.

  Nora moved past the bed dragging her fingertips across the quilt as she went. The heavy stitching always brought a smile to her face. Her vanity was just as she left it, spotted antique mirror and all. Nora scoffed. She could spill all her secrets onto a page and leave it right here for everyone to see. Not one of the political movers in this clan would even think to look.

  She wasn’t bitching, that was her armor. That fact let her move about the clan completely invisible. But she’d be lying if she said it didn’t piss her off, none the less.

  A knock sounded. Abel said he’d stop by. He always was a man of his word.

  “Come in,” she said grabbing a tube of lipstick from the vanity top. Nora spread color over her lips rubbing them together. Running her fingers through her blond curls, she turned with a smile to greet him. It wilted.

  “What are you doing here?” Nora asked.

  Her manner changed visibly. From open and inviting to hunched and guarded. She made sure the wall was firmly at her back. Her eyes even darted about looking for something to defend herself with. Not that it would do her much good.

  Mathew Ellis didn’t look like much. Tall and lanky, his closely cropped dishwater blond hair and cursory good looks hid a lot. But the eyes don’t lie, and his steely greys told her he was a maniac. He was deceptively strong, ruthless, and the sickest bastard she’d ever known. And that said a lot considering some of the people she knew.

  ***

  Abel sent Conner back to the house. He didn’t like his brothers here any longer than they had to be. He stayed. He was hoping to rope a few favors from what friends he still had left. The girl couldn’t just wallow at the farm for the rest of her life. If Nora’s plan was going to work, they had to ensconce her firmly in plain sight.

  It was getting late. This probably could have waited until tomorrow, but he hated fighting with Nora. Besides, it took a hell of a lot to swallow his damned pride and apologize to her. He had better do it before he changed his mind.

  “You need to learn your place!” The slap rang out through the door. “You’re a breeder that’s what you’re for.”

  Abel knew that voice. A horrific slide show of Folk women raped and torn to pieces played in his mind’s eye. He would never forget the atrocities Ellis committed. Worthington should have let Abel kill him. Folk deaths just didn’t hold the same weight a Kin’s might.

  A growl spilled out of his chest as he sprinted toward the bedroom. It took every ounce of will he possessed to keep his beast caged. Even with it in chains, Abel shouldered the door so hard that it flew back hitting the far wall and reverberated shattering the lock. A crack split down its center.

  “Get away from her,” Abel commanded.

  The dark look in Mathew’s eyes was edged out by just a hint of fear. He dropped the fist he held Nora’s arm with. Even took a step back from her. But it didn’t take much for that smug grin to split his face once more.

  “You’re white knight, come to rescue you again. Well, white is kind of a misnomer, isn’t it? His family name is so tarnished after all,” Mathew said to Nora conversationally. “How the mighty Merricks have fallen.”

  “Get out!” Nora demanded, chest heaving. She probed the blood staining the corner of her mouth. Nora shook visibly, but fire burned in her eyes. She stood tall.

  Ellis sneered. Her impudence stoked his anger. He tightened his fists at his sides. “You should thank your stars I would even deign to look at you let alone want to fuck you!”

  Abel’s fingertips danced at his sides. He almost wished Ellis would be dumb enough to raise his hand to her again. The silence in the room was taught as a violin string.

  “I’ll be seeing you again,” Ellis warned and stomped just out of Abel’s reach through the opening.

  Nora collapsed into a nervous wreck the moment he was gone. You never show fear to a man like Mathew Ellis. Her head fell back against her shoulders, lips shaking to keep her sobs contained. Abel rushed across the room folding her into his embrace.

  “Hey, it’s all right,” he cooed. “I’m here. I won’t let nothing happen to you.”

  Tears she never showed to anyone soaked into his shirt. “I love you, Abel! I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  18

  Chapter

  Zoe threw her head back with laughter that had her truly relaxed for the first time in days. “He did not?”

  “Oh yeah, in front of everybody. Right there on the living room floor,” Johnny pointed. His laugh slowly faded but his smile stayed. “Abel’s had a rough few years, but I promise once you get to know him, you’ll see. He’s a good guy.”

  Zoe could practically feel his admiration tingling on her skin. She looked at Izzy the same way. Hard as nails and stubborn as a rock, she didn’t always agree with Izzy, but she loved her more than anything on this earth.

  The silence stretching between them was thick but comfortable. Zoe’s toes did a little dance. Her feet laid across his lap, they sat together on the couch. Zoe had always bonded fast. And something about Johnny put her anxieties at rest. Still, she’d kill for some music. The quiet of this place unnerved her. She was used to bustling cities, and people. There wasn’t even a streetlight for miles around this farmhouse.

  Farmhouse? She scoffed. That label didn’t come close to encompass the majesty of this place. Trapped firmly in another age, the bones of this beast belonged to a magnificent Victorian mansion laid low by time and wear. It kept its mystique and original woodwork, though.

  No TV. Who doesn’t own a TV? It wasn’t the strangest thing she’d noticed since waking up here. But it bothered her all the same.

  His skin was tan, like whiskey. It made those pretty eyes pop. Many guys she knew tried that tousled just-run-your-hand-through-it kind of style. But he was the only one she’d ever known to pull it off without an hour in front of the mirror, serious attention to detail, and a whole lot of hair gel. Careful as Johnny was he had this easy-going vibe she liked. She thought about reaching across and taking his hand.

  A sound distracted her. Zoe sat up slightly looking for its source. Johnny cocked a brow turning his head in that direction. Connor came around the corner and Zoe sighed in relief. Johnny tensed. Guilt leapt at the threa
t of Conner’s presence. Connor flashed her a grin and handed her a plastic bag. The Merrick brothers shared a conversation of glances that said so much.

  Johnny coiled, shrinking away from his brother. He couldn’t help it. Nothing scared him more than the consequences of the truth that only Conner knew. He knew better than to let Conner have something to hold over him. When the youngest Merrick wanted something, he didn’t hesitate to fight dirty. He hadn’t made his play… yet. Johnny dreaded the drop of the other shoe.

  He could feel it on the edge of Conner’s questions. He was setting the stage. They’d been playing these games since he was an infant. Conner only ever showed his teeth when he had the upper hand. But don’t let that fool you. His were the sharpest.

  “Nora hopes they fit.”

  “Clothes!”

  Boyfriend t-shirts had a special place in every girl’s wardrobe, but wearing clothes three to four sizes too big, for days at a time left her feeling like a toddler. She pawed through the bag. Jeans, sweaters, tank-tops, there were even bras and underwear. A toothbrush, makeup, this bag was a gift from the Gods.

  “Tell Nora I will toil endlessly as her slave to make this up to her!” Zoe hopped off the couch, sure to keep her pants from falling around her ankles.

  “Careful, she might take you up on that,” Johnny warned.

  “I’m going to…” she jerked her thumb at the stairs.

  Conner smirked. Haughty and condescending, he watched her run up the stairs waiting. Johnny licked his lips, his manner grave. It took every ounce of will he possessed to wait for her to get out of earshot. The shower started and he sat forward.

  “Tell me!” He demanded.

  “We found her before she made the first change. Worthington wants to watch it. She makes it, and the clan will welcome her.” His smirk shifted to a smile that smelled poisonous.

  Johnny’s eyes fluttered. He heaved a breath that settled his shoulders and he flopped back against the couch cushions. Connor checked the stairs.

  “She broke free, right?” he asked. Connor was worried.