“No you wouldn’t,” she scoffed. She was a shifter, and they were notoriously hard to kill, especially if she changed form. Not to mention her wicked gris-gris, karma, and general badassness.
In all honesty, it would be hard for him to kill her even if he tried. She was older than him, even though he appeared to be slightly older than her, and with that age came an arsenal of defensive techniques unique to her Choctaw and Haitian roots.
His fears were very misplaced.
“If we were together, it would mate us,” Cael admitted. Aiyanna agreed—she’d never had any doubts on that point. “Then I would gain back my full powers. Once that happens, I’ll be too strong to sleep with anyone without harming her. I won’t risk you.”
“Why are you so convinced you’ll hurt me?”
His chin jutted forward. “I killed the werewolf I slept with before I was sent to New Orleans. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but she broke like a porcelain doll.”
Deep despair covered his every word. Aiyanna finally understood, her heart breaking for him. Hurting that woman had killed something in Cael, birthing the self-hatred that would destroy him.
Aiyanna strode forward, past the invisible line separating them. She gently pushed Cael against the tapestry and tipped her head up so she could watch his face.
“We’ll be friends.” A knife pulled through her gut. “I’ll stop pressuring you to be with me.”
Cael shook his head, and Aiyanna realized she was finally seeing what he was like when he allowed himself to thaw, just a little bit. The sight only made her want him more.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone you’re with—”
“There won’t be anyone,” she said definitively. “I never would have slept with Theo, anyway; I needed to feel wanted, for once, as if I’m not a nuisance.”
Something sparked in his gaze. Cael didn’t have to touch her to make her look him in the eye. He was livid.
“Who made you feel that way?” he demanded.
“You did!” She gave him her best duh expression. Are you kidding? He thought someone else had been a dick to her? Had he met his own friends?
Cael cursed. “The pack depends on you. I depend on you.”
Aiyanna grinned. “I know, wolfie. It must hurt, needing to have a cat around.”
A hint of a smile, but it was enough to lift Aiyanna’s spirits. “We’re friends now,” he said skeptically, but the amusement was still there. “You won’t try to sleep with me anymore.”
“That’s right,” Aiyanna lied cheerfully. “You’re being friend-zoned.”
Relief crossed his face, but she detected disappointment too. Her grain of hope bloomed, and the feline side of her stretched in preparation.
It would take time, dedication and cunning, but she would prove to him that they could be safely mated, that she was made out of tougher stuff than he’d ever seen. Hell, she preferred a man who had unique powers, who could hold his own.
He wanted her as much as she wanted him, and that was why they could never be friends.
She wasn’t giving up on him.
Chapter 10
SOPHIA pulled off Heath’s jacket, and then struggled to lift Leila’s sweatshirt over her head. Heath was pressed down onto the corner of the soft cotton, preventing her from taking it off completely.
“Help me, damn it!” The thick material muffled her exclamation, but Heath heard, his deep chuckle reaching her, making her want to shred the sweatshirt with her claws. She refrained only because it didn’t belong to her, and Leila likely wouldn’t appreciate a midriff-baring hoodie.
Heath shifted slightly, giving her just enough room to take off all the clothes over her bra. She went to undo the snap, but Heath’s hands covered hers. “Let me,” he said, his voice huskier than usual.
She turned to give him better access, and he ran his hands over her back, so lightly it gave her goose bumps. “Your back is so sexy,” he murmured, tracing the curve of her exposed hip.
He unhooked her bra, carefully placing it in the growing pile of clothes she’d set on the ground. Wind blew between them, raising the hairs on her arms and further hardening the tips of her breasts.
“Start a fire,” he said against the back of her neck. He bit the spot his breath had hit a moment before, causing her to jerk from the change in sensation.
He stood, picked up a fire pit, and placed it a few feet away from them. As soon as he’d put down his burden he looked up at her, freezing in his tracks, his eyes drinking in her bare front.
“Your clothes need to come off too,” Sophia told him with a devious grin.
He shook his head slowly. “Baby, this is about me appreciating you.”
Instead of arguing with him, she flicked her lighter, taking the flame to create a too-large fire in the pit. He took the distraction, stepping away from the element he was so focused on as she carefully used her claw to rip through his shirt.
It fell to the ground; he shot her a disapproving look. “Mary bought me that, and it had Manbearpig on it.”
“She’ll understand,” Sophia said, realizing he was more built than she’d expected. He has the body of a swimmer. She observed how his abdomen tapered down from broad shoulders. “Besides, no one wants to be a manbearpig.”
He raised a tawny eyebrow; he was trying not to smile. “Are you sure that isn’t a type of shifter?”
“That’s what happens when a bear shifter messes with the witches,” she said seriously. She’d seen something like that happen before, only it was a cougar shifter spliced with a donkey. I need to warn Sebastian not to piss Briony off.
This time he laughed, reaching for her and lifting her until her legs wrapped around his waist. Their lips met again, his warm hands holding her against him as she held his shoulders, the heat of the fire transforming the night air from chilly to balmy.
“What happened here?” Heath fingered an old scar that ran up from her stomach to her shoulder, his hand lingering on her breast.
“Nothing.” She quickly took his mouth in another kiss. She nipped his lower lip in penance for the question, but it only made his eyes tilt up, his tongue tasting a place on her lip before he bit down gently.
What seemed like an eternity later Heath lowered her so she straddled his lap on the loveseat, the dim light skating over his tattoos. Before she’d torn his shirt off, she hadn’t realized that the whole right side of his body was covered in ink, not only his arm.
She touched the design, the tip of her finger linking a Celtic knot, a skull, a tree and three legs seemingly in motion. They were all woven together harmoniously; a huge pattern that looked like intricate swirls from farther away.
“This is how you lifted that SUV,” she whispered, her hand over the three legs. Either that or he’d been bitten by some kind of radioactive spider.
Heath nodded, his cheek rubbing against hers, rough from new stubble a shade darker than his hair. “Early on,” he said, leaning back to face her, “when I was the only wolf in this clan, I wanted to make sure the creatures here knew that even without my powers, I was strong enough to be a threat.”
Otherwise, Heath would have been killed. Sophia knew, because she’d been petrified of Sebastian meeting that same fate when he’d been forced to join the clan. He’d been safe only because Heath, and later Raphael and Alexandre, had proven their strength, making creatures wary of attacking the clan prohibitum.
“I’m glad for it,” she said. The design seemed to move under her fingers approvingly, the wheel of legs turning, the tree growing, spreading. She wasn’t only happy because it helped her brother. Sebastian was strong—he could take care of himself.
She was glad Heath had something else keep him safe since his main weapon had been ripped away from him. Without her fire, she’d fumble in a fight, putting herself at risk. That the men of this clan not only survived, but also stirred fear in others, spoke volumes about their strength.
She dipped her han
d lower, to the waistband of his jeans.
Heath stilled, breathing in sharply, but he took her hands in his, lifting them to his shoulders.
“What’s the problem?” she asked, shocked. She wanted to see all of him, wanted to press down on his thighs with her palms, to lift the weight of his manhood in her hand.
“We can’t.” Heath wasn’t looking at her, but her fire. “What if it mates us?”
“That’s a good thing!” Sophia pressed down on his shoulders, digging her nails in. “If you’re meant to be my mate, then I want to know…I’d want to be with you.”
For all werewolves, finding a mate was a rare gift. Only a small portion of weres ever found theirs—those who did never turned away from their mate. It was such a precious thing, a link between two people that combined their powers, their very lives, no one would consider squandering what they’d been given.
Even Sophia wouldn’t question being with her mate. It was one of the few aspects of life that was set in stone, and she respected mating just as she respected the rest of the undeniable tenants of being were.
Could Heath be my mate?
“My element is water.” Still, Heath didn’t look at her.
Sophia’s blood turned to ice. She was chilled again, despite the heat flowing over her.
“No,” she exclaimed, sharply enough for him to finally face her. He met her eyes; his own filled with restrained emotion. “Fire and water elementals rarely mate,” she said firmly, her hand fisting defiantly. “This only means we’ll never be mated.”
The bitter disappointment she felt almost brought her to her knees, but she knew she was right. There was no reason for water and fire elementals to be put together—their abilities only cancelled each other’s out when their powers merged, making both weres weaker, the loss of their powers permanent.
It was why Omni weres were so rare: they possessed lethal skills with both fire and water.
Sophia didn’t intend to lose her fire, but she wanted to feel Heath skin-to-skin. She wanted to see the rest of him, to know him inside and out. Most of all, she wanted to see him truly happy, regardless of the injustice Jeremiah had inflicted upon him and the entire pack.
They could never be mated, but they could be lovers.
Before she could tell him as much, Heath handed over her clothes, his eyes clear, without remorse. Getting the hint, she took the pile and haphazardly threw them on, glaring at him all the while.
She rose, fuming, from where she’d been so damn deliriously content minutes before, deciding to leave before she could be rejected further.
Just as she reached the door to the stairs, she sensed Heath’s rapid approach behind her. He grabbed her arm, jerking her back toward him carefully enough that it wouldn’t bruise.
“I think,” he said slowly, still only touching her with his hand on her elbow, “that we’re the rare ones.”
Happiness burst through her, but it was twisted, tainted. If he was right, then they really couldn’t touch each other again, or they would lose everything. She’d lose her favorite part of herself, and he would lose the chance at freedom he’d been waiting for.
She should be horrified. “How do you know?”
Heath didn’t hesitate. “I’ve known since the moment I met you.”
She scoffed, shaking her head. When he met her, he’d immediately gone nuts, calling her brother all sorts of names, insinuating that she was weak. She’d been too offended to see past his overt sexism, his unwillingness to go with a plan that hinged on her being put into danger.
He was trying to protect me. He was petrified I would get hurt.
She’d been about to allow herself to be kidnapped by human traffickers, so Heath’s reaction hadn’t been unwarranted. Now that he’d seen her strength, she didn’t see him underestimating her ability to take care of herself again.
Instinct pulled her gaze to his hand again. The eye was watching her miserably. A tear fell from its corner, the designs on his wrist adjusting to avoid the droplet until it fell, solid and real, onto the ground.
Heath didn’t seem to notice. He surveyed her, his brows drawn.
“I need to think,” Sophia said, the image of the tear burning into her vision, haunting her.
“There’s nothing to think about.” Heath brought his palms up to frame her face. “I may never get my powers back, but I won’t be the reason you lose yours.”
Indignation rose, straightening Sophia’s spine. “I get a say in this.” She was tempted to catch the hem of his jeans on fire because he was still wearing the damn things. “You don’t get to decide our fate by yourself,” she paused, “unless you don’t want me.”
That would keep me from touching him ever again. Memories of the night that ruined Sebastian’s life pierced through her, making her chest ache.
Deep within her, she knew how he felt, recognized the scalding heat that took her over was also in him, but the ever-wary, scarred part of her needed reassurance if she were to fight him on this.
She wouldn’t force herself on anyone, ever.
Noticing the shift in her mood, Heath leaned down to brush a chaste kiss across her cheek before briefly resting his forehead against hers. “I think I need you, Sophia,” he said raggedly.
He pulled away, putting a couple of feet of distance between them. His eyes burned brightly, determined. To anyone else, the intensity of this heavily inked, obviously strong man would have been frightening.
Sophia didn’t find him to be the least bit intimidating.
“I’ll have to live without you.” He bit out those last words, but she knew he meant them.
Just as she meant what she said next. “I’m not sure what we are to each other, or what I want.” She refused to meekly accept his declaration. “Once I do, we’re going to figure this out together.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously.
She didn’t give him a chance to argue. She yanked open the door and moved into the stairwell, knowing he wouldn’t follow. Behind her, she heard the thud of the door forming a new barrier between them.
They needed the space from one another. A decision would have to be made soon, because he was right. Together, they made that rare couple who screwed up each other’s powers after mating.
After hearing Heath speak, she didn’t doubt that he was right. She’d known, but hadn’t been willing to listen to what her body, her instincts had been telling her. At least, not until the night before, when she’d taken a chance and asked for his help.
The question now was, would it be worth accepting the gift of finding a mate, to be connected to someone else that deeply, if it meant giving up such an important part of herself?
Even if it was, would she be worth it to Heath, or would he resent her for the rest of their lives?
* * * *
December 12, 1914
Halifax, Canada
After a day of training with her brother outside in cold—frigid didn’t begin to describe the icy, biting air, even for an immortal were used to a Canadian winter—all Sophia wanted to do was sit in front of a fire, wrapped up in soft, thick clothes and heavy blankets.
As she drew herself a warm bath, she knew she was lucky Sebastian would train with her at all. Unless a woman was extraordinarily gifted in her powers, it was rare for her to ever be called to fight the battles many male weres, including Sebastian, fought. Sophia had heard of women who were gifted enough to be considered worthy of training by her pack, but she knew they would be put in the least amount of danger as possible, likely working with the Elders behind the scenes.
The thing was, Sophia didn’t like being behind the scenes. She wanted to be right there in the action, not sitting in the house she and her brother shared, waiting for him to come back bloody, bruised and exhilarated from a battle won. She wasn’t extraordinary, but she was powerful. She could be of use to the soldiers.
Even Sebastian had admitted it today. Your control is exceptional;
he’d seemed surprised when she could shape her fire anyway she liked.
Rote boredom had given her a lot of practice, as well as many mild burn marks her brother pretended not to notice.
She could do more than what was typical for fire elementals, controlling her fire’s growth and even extinguishing it, a task that took iron will.
Fire was stubborn.
But she was more so. Sophia could make the element bow to her commands, which was the difficulty most weres had with fire. “We really could use you,” Sebastian had said in that way of his when he’d discovered a scheme to keep up his sleeve.
He was always planning, scheming. Lately he’d been trying to brew beer in their kitchen, taking up far too much of their limited counter space. Sophia would have complained, but the brew was pretty good, even though it was more bitter than she would have liked. Sebastian was always tweaking the recipe anyway, telling her it had to be perfect for when the drink was banned.
Sophia didn’t think alcohol would ever be made illegal, but she didn’t tell Sebastian that, just as he kept his thoughts to himself regarding her decision to become a soldier.
She finished her bath, rushing to find her slippers before her feet froze against the cold wooden floor. She pulled a layered skirt that hit her ankles over warm tights, and two layers of soft shirts until she finished with a long-sleeved blouse she cinched at her wrists with buttons.
Sebastian was out buying more hops, yeast, barley, and God knew what else for his brews. She could either wait for him to get home to discuss her primitive plan, or she could simply go ahead and do what she’d been thinking about all day.
Nerves had her hands trembling as she layered on another pair of thick wool socks, but she refused to let her anxiety cloud her mind. I’m strong. I’m powerful, and I deserve this.
She was going to walk almost a quarter of a mile away to Kiril Radkov’s home, where she would ask him if she could join the soldiers. Kiril wasn’t their Alpha, but he was high up enough in the ranks that his word would be enough to stamp out any men’s protests.
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