by Juniper Hart
Landon smirked slightly. “Not that I’m one to reject money,” he said smoothly, although his pulse quickened as he stared at her. “But I think you’re mistaken.”
She shook her luxuriant shoulder-length curls. “You walked away before I could give you your change at Aragon a couple weeks ago. You probably don’t remember me—”
“I remember you,” Landon replied before he could stop himself. His face flushed, but he knew she couldn’t see his blush beneath the bronze of his complexion. What was it about her that he found so captivating? The guileless dark eyes? They were shadowed with something guarded, and yet her entire face was etched in the same innocence he’d noticed at the club. The lighting in The Quarry was much better than it had been at Aragon, and Landon found himself leaning closer to study her features.
“Oh,” she laughed, a slight nervous tinkle echoing through his ears. “Well, let me get you the change. I’ve been holding onto it, believe it or not.”
He didn’t believe it. Any other woman would have pocketed the change and felt that she had earned it. But apparently, not this woman.
“What’s your name?” Landon wanted to know. Her peaches and cream complexion seemed to wan slightly at the question, and his eyes narrowed.
He knew he should walk away from her. She was part of a low-end pack, one who was notorious for causing problems among the others, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from speaking to her. Idly, Landon thought of how he had intervened between her and the twins, and he wondered if he had done it not to keep the peace, but out of some inherent desire to protect this stranger whom he had never previously met.
Landon dismissed the idea as quickly as it had come. He owed her nothing, attractive or not. He took a long sip of his drink casually as he waited for her to respond.
“Wren Archer,” she offered, and the liquid sprayed out of Landon’s mouth as he began to cough. Her coffee-shaded eyes grew large, and she looked around worriedly as the other patrons of the bar stared. “Oh, gods, are you okay?” she muttered, watching him helplessly. Landon waved his large hand around as he struggled to regain his breath, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“I… I’m fine,” he managed to choke, swallowing air. Finally, he stopped hacking, and they eyed one another. “You’re an Archer,” he muttered, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “I see.”
Wren’s face twisted into an almost indecipherable expression, but he could feel the resentment oozing off her regardless.
“By name only,” she managed to say, turning her classic profile away. “Let me get that money for you.”
“It was a tip.” His voice was much harder than he meant it to be, and he finished his drink in one gulp. “I’ll take my bill though.”
She didn’t look directly at him, but she nodded to her tiny friend.
“Mr. Burke wants his bill,” she muttered, sauntering off before Landon could say anything else. The slight girl stood uncertainly for a moment before making her way to the cash register and recalling his tab, which she placed before him silently. She didn’t move, and Landon looked at her curiously.
“Are you going to breathe down my neck until I pay?” he asked with annoyance. She seemed taken aback by his question.
“You shouldn’t judge Wren by her family.”
It was Landon’s turn to be surprised, and he glared at her.
“I’m not judging anyone,” he growled in a low tone. “No matter what pack they belong to.” He looked at the girl meaningfully, and she balked slightly.
“We didn’t get the choice of where we were born,” she replied quietly. “Not all of us were born into the Seven.”
Landon bristled, his jaw locking. He glanced around to ensure they weren’t being overheard and leaned toward her. “If you think I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, lady, you’re mistaken. I’ve worked my ass off to get what I have.”
“Yeah? Did you do it with all the odds stacked up against you?” she responded as if she had anticipated his answer. “You really shouldn’t judge a beast until you’ve walked a mile in her shoes, Mr. Burke.”
The girl spun away, and Landon felt another flush color his face.
If she expects me to forget that the Elliot Bay Pack is hellbent on destruction, she’s insane. That entire crew is trouble, big brown eyes or not. I might not know Wren Archer, but I know her parents and her brother. I know the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
He rose from his stool and slapped a couple bills from a roll in his pocket onto the table before grabbing his suit jacket off the back of the high stool and storming from The Quarry. It annoyed him that his sanctuary bar was no longer a place of peace for him.
“Hey!” Landon paused mid-step and looked behind him. It was the redheaded waitress running breathlessly toward him. “Are you okay?”
He stared at her, willing her name to come to him. Laura? Lana?
“Of course. I’ve got an early morning,” he told her, wondering why she was suddenly talking to him after she’d spent an hour averting her gaze.
“I saw you talking to the new girls. Do you know them?”
Lara?
“No,” he replied truthfully. “I don’t.” The redhead looked disappointed. “Why?” Landon pressed, intrigued in her keen interest. The waitress was a mortal and had no reason to understand the inner workings of the Enchanted.
“I don’t know,” she confessed. “They’ve been here a week, and there’s something about them that rubs me the wrong way.”
Landon tensed slightly. “How’s that?” he asked, keeping his tone casual.
“I can’t put my finger on it,” she sighed. “I keep saying, ‘Linda, your mind is working overtime,’ but I can’t shake it.”
Linda. Of course.
“Well, I don’t know them,” Landon said, almost impatiently. He looked at his watch meaningfully.
“I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on them myself,” Linda replied, shrugging. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned is that my gut is very rarely wrong. There’s something weird about them, and I’m going to find out.”
The words made Landon uncomfortable, and he didn’t know how to respond, the hairs on the back of his neck rising.
“Sounds like a jealousy issue to me,” he retorted. “Have a good night.” He stalked away from her, but as he made his way to his waiting Tesla, Landon abruptly realized what had always drawn him to The Quarry.
This is the first time they’ve ever employed any Enchanted staff. I’ve never seen one there before this.
Going to The Quarry had been an escape from the Council and his stressful workload. He could go there and pretend to be a boring, normal mortal without the constant reminder of the weight of the world on his shoulders. And now Wren and her friend had ruined that.
Irritation shot through Landon. To add insult to injury, they were Elliot Bay Pack, the lowest of the low.
I’ll have to find a new place to unwind after work, he thought grimly, jumping into his car.
Before he pulled away, he caught a glimpse of Linda’s face scowling in his rear-view mirror. He wondered if she was going to cause a problem for Wren and her friend based on whatever gut instinct she felt.
Not my business. Wren can handle herself—Archers have figured out how to escape trouble since the dawn of the Enchanted. She’ll be fine.
But as he drove away, the little bartender’s words ricocheted through his head.
“You shouldn’t judge Wren by her family. We didn’t get the choice of where we were born. Not all of us were born into the Seven. Yeah? Did you do it with all the odds stacked up against you? You really shouldn’t judge a beast until you’ve walked a mile in her shoes, Mr. Burke.”
Landon gritted his teeth and sped toward his condo as if he was trying to leave Wren Archer in his wake.
5
“He’s a real douchebag,” Christiana said angrily. “I can’t believe that smug expression on his stupid face. Like he’s better somehow.
”
“Why are you so mad about this?” Wren wanted to know. “Landon Burke has no bearing on our lives, Chris. I’m shocked we saw him again, to be honest. I’m more concerned about Linda, actually.”
“The redheaded waitress? Why?”
“I don’t know,” Wren replied, dropping onto the sofa and kicking off her shoes. She was tired, but the shifts were much less agonizing than they had been at Aragon, and at least the sun wasn’t rising as they unwound after the night. It was just after two-thirty in the morning.
When Christiana calms down, I have to remember to thank her for this change of venue, despite the way Linda is looking at us.
“She’s been watching our every move since we started. Haven’t you noticed?”
“I noticed that arrogant bastard acting all holier-than-thou, that’s what I noticed,” Christiana countered, and Wren sighed.
“Chris, we belong to a shitty pack. We’ve always been the lowest on the food chain. Why does it bother you that the highest on the food chain thinks we’re nothing?” Wren asked rationally. She would never admit it to Christiana, but she had also been upset by what had happened with Landon Burke that night. Still, she knew better than to get upset over something like that. Her entire life, she’d lived with disrespect. Just because Landon was handsome and apparently educated did not mean that he wasn’t tainted with the same biases as everyone else.
Anyway, why would he believe that there are any redeeming Archers? There haven’t been as far back as I know. Not to say that I’m a redeeming Archer, either.
“He’s on the Council of Seven!” Christiana exploded. “It’s his duty to remain impartial and speak for all the Lycans, not just the ones he likes. That’s his flipping job, Wren!”
“Okay, okay,” Wren sighed, holding up her hand. “Don’t get worked up. He didn’t say he hated us. He just left. No big deal.”
“I think we should make a formal protest to the Council of Seven,” Christiana insisted. “Have him replaced with someone more impartial.”
“Oh, my gods, Christiana. I’m really not in the mindset to fight the man right now, okay? Like it or not, this job pays a hell of a lot less than Aragon, and I have a bad feeling that Linda is going to make an enemy out of us. We need the hours if we want to pay rent.”
Christiana opened her mouth but quickly shut it again, as if Wren’s words had sunk in abruptly.
“We’ll be okay,” she assured Wren, but there was little conviction in her tone. “We just started, and the money will get better when we get regulars. You know how this works.”
“We should be going back to school,” Wren mumbled more to herself than to Christiana, but her roommate snorted.
“If we can’t afford rent, honey bunny, we can’t afford tuition.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And to think that bastard was telling me how hard he worked to get everything he had in life,” Christiana barked out. Wren’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Who?”
“Oh… I meant Landon. He was telling me he worked his ass off, but I wonder if he ever had to wait tables or stand on his feet for twelve straight hours.”
“Chris,” Wren moaned. “Enough about Landon Burke, okay? Seriously. Who cares?”
“You’re right,” Christiana relented and rose from the winged chair where she sat. “I’m going to bed—before dawn! Are you coming hunting with me tomorrow night?”
“I’m working tomorrow night,” Wren reminded her. “I’ll see how I’m feeling after.”
Christiana eyed her. “You haven’t been hunting as much as you used to.”
“I’m tired, Chris,” Wren grumbled, wishing her friend didn’t follow her movements so closely. “And I’m almost at my regression stage. I don’t need as much to sustain me as I did before.”
“You’re not turning twenty-seven for another two years,” Christiana sighed. “Stop aging us, please.”
“I thought you were going to bed.”
“I am. Night night.”
“Good night.” Wren watched as Christiana vanished into the back hallways of their shared apartment and dropped her head back against the couch.
I’m unhappy, she thought, the words filling her head unexpectedly. I’m living a dead-end life with no ties anywhere. I’m bouncing from one menial job to another, and I have to uproot myself every time I think my family might come looking for me. This is not a way to live out the rest of my immortal days. There has to be a better way.
Closing her eyes, Wren permitted herself to return to a place she rarely visited. It was too painful a stop, really, partially because she had no idea if it was real or not. In her mind’s eye, she saw it all so vividly, her and Jordan sprawled on the shag carpeting of a rec room, fighting over a remote control. He was maybe ten years old, making her about five or six, and they were arguing like only siblings could.
“Mom! Mom, Wren is bothering me!” he howled. “Mom, come and get her out of here.”
“It’s my turn!” Wren yelled indignantly. “You’ve been playing all day!”
“Enough!” Caroline snapped from the doorway. She glared angrily at her children, a mixing bowl in her hands, white apron around her slender waist. “If you two keep this up, no brownies. Am I clear?”
The siblings looked at one another in panic.
“Yes, Mom!” they yelled in unison. “Sorry!”
A warm, mischievous smile broke out on Caroline’s face. “Now go get dressed for dinner. Your dad has some important news, and he wants to take us out to celebrate.”
“Aw, Mom, can’t I finish—”
“Now, Jordan. Don’t argue.”
Begrudgingly, both children rose and headed up the stairs to their bedrooms to dress.
“You’re a jerk,” Wren whispered, darting past her brother and punching him in the arm.
Wren opened her eyes, confusion overwhelming her. What was that place? Is it somewhere I concocted throughout all the insanity, or did it really happen?
It couldn’t have been real, not in the middle of the chaos she’d known as her childhood, the drug running and strangers squatting on their property. There hadn’t been any sort of gaming system, and Jordan had taken to sleeping in her room to ensure that none of their parents’ “friends” stumbled into the wrong place or tried to steal her in the night. There hadn’t been any idyllic moments. Had there? And yet it was a memory she visited often.
Maybe I’ll ask Jordan about it when he finds me, she thought with some bitterness. It was a sarcastic thought. If she was ever face to face with her brother again, she would not be whipping out the family photo album. She’d probably be giving him the little money she had left to disappear again.
Wren wondered what trouble he’d found himself in now that he was looking for her again. She wasn’t actively being sought by her family. They had no use for her, after all. She wasn’t any good to them if she wasn’t going to continue with the legacy of moving contraband. If anything, there was a deep mistrust for her, and they preferred that she kept her distance. Even so, Wren was constantly overwhelmed with the feeling that they wouldn’t leave her alone, no matter how much time had passed.
Sometimes, when the melancholy struck her just the wrong way, Wren would consider giving up the struggle she constantly faced to return home. If not for Christiana, she probably would have succumbed to the idea long ago. But like her, Christiana had walked away from her own abusive family and tried to start anew. The girl depended on Wren, and Wren knew she couldn’t walk away, no matter how strong the desire to give up might be.
I need sleep, she told herself, rising from the couch and stretching her exhausted frame. She flipped off the living room lights and made her way into the hallway, her eyes growing heavier with each step she took. Barely making it to the single bed, she fell face forward onto her pillow and exhaled a deep breath, closing her eyes once more.
Tomorrow is another day, she thought with her naïve optimism. Who knows? Maybe you’ll win the lot
tery and both yours and Chris’ problems will be solved.
But as sleep washed over her, it was not the image of winning millions in the Powerball which brought her into unconsciousness.
It was Landon Burke’s attractive face.
6
“What can you tell me about the Elliot Bay Pack?”
All heads jerked up and looked at him in unison, their perplexity identical.
“Uh… what?” Henry, the Vampire Regent on the Council of Seven, asked. “You’re asking us about a wolf pack? Isn’t that your domain?”
Landon felt foolish and wished he’d thought his query through, but it had weighed heavily on him since running into Wren Archer at The Quarry. He’d spent three days going through old files pertaining to the crooked legacy of the Archers and the sordid background of the pack which had somehow gone astray.
It was difficult to ascertain when exactly the pack had deviated, while the other packs in the area thrived. Landon had never considered why they were the way they were until he’d chanced upon Wren, and while logic dictated that he leave well enough alone, he couldn’t help but wonder about her.
“What are you asking exactly?” Laurel wanted to know. “What about this pack? Are they becoming trouble?”
“No, no,” Landon said hastily. “I mean, I don’t think so.” Six sets of eyes peered at him skeptically, and the Lycan knew he had some explaining to do based on his unfiltered question. “I’m just curious about them,” he offered lamely. “They’ve been wreaking havoc on the community for centuries.”
“Longer,” Alec said, and Landon looked at him with mild surprise. The dragon didn’t often speak unless he had something important to say.
“I’m just trying to figure out how they’ve gotten away with their activities for so long,” Landon continued, and Raven, the demon, chuckled.
“Again, Landon, that’s kind of your territory, isn’t it? If the packs are acting up, it’s your responsibility to rein them in. Do you need help?”