Winter's Rage (The Crimson Winter Reverse Harem Series Book 3)

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  "She was out here with them looking for the ruby caves, wasn't she?" I asked, taking his offered hand to stand. "You saw how she reacted to Sasha. She was totally disarmed, and not just because of your ferocious growl, sweet girl. You did amazing."

  She yipped in agreement, and Thomas lifted her from her perch and handed her to me. She touched her nose to mine, making me smile, and then wriggled herself back into my coat.

  “Get in.” Thomas held his coat open for us. “We’re in Faust’s territory now. We can travel faster this way, and if anyone’s looking for a man and a woman, all they’ll see is me.”

  Eager for his warmth, I climbed atop his boots. A part of me wanted to grumble that he hadn’t acknowledged Sasha’s first real growl. Not even a pat on the head, but he was still healing, still forgiving himself. I needed to let him do that on his own terms and not push.

  We continued northeast through the Crimson Forest. We weren't so bold as to walk right through Old Man's Den since we didn't know the exact state it was in, or how many people still lived there. So we skirted around the easternmost side, behind what used to be the jail. There was nothing left of it except ashes blowing in a swirling veil of snow. There was nothing left of the town period. It had been leveled by the fire, utterly devastated, even Faust’s tavern all the way across the street. I could still smell the smoke and taste the bitter panic of that night, but I found myself grinning as I peered Sasha and I around Thomas's coat lapel.

  We'd made our point that night. Even though it had been the most stressful night of my life, we'd done well. Time to do it again, this time with poison.

  Thomas stopped, clutching me to him as he bent into the wind. "Hear that."

  I listened, only catching brief snatches of sound I couldn’t place. "What is it?"

  He kept moving, bringing me closer to the source, because when he finally stopped again, I heard it. A piano, its vibrant notes drifting in and out of the snowstorm. I knew that song. I hated that song.

  "The Scratching Post," I called toward Thomas’s neck. "The brothel at the end of town."

  It hadn't burned down. By luck or by design, it still stood while the rest of the town was no more. Did that mean everyone had flocked there? Judging from the music pouring out of it, someone was having a party.

  Thomas crept us closer, so close boisterous voices mixed between the piano and rode the air. I couldn't make out what they were saying, and I had no need to. We'd take a wide circuit around it and then disappear into the Slipjoint Forest on the other side of the road. They knew my face inside, likely Thomas’s, too, and if one of them recognized us, we might not be able to vanish so easily into the woods. Besides, this had been where Lager was headed, though we’d seen no signs of him, no tracks.

  I peeked Sasha and I out of his coat again and found the brothel to our left, the back door propped open by a man bent double and retching on the porch. People crammed the inside with laughing women wearing bright, luxurious dresses and men with their arms around them. Liquor sloshed from their glasses, but a bottle was being passed around to fix that. They stood next to the piano player, some singing along, others yelling over the song. None of them paid us any attention.

  None of them except a black cat winding around their legs, seemingly confident no one would step on him, keen green eyes locked on us.

  Ribbons…here?

  "Thomas," I hissed.

  "I see," he said, his voice tense but his movements fluid and silent as ever.

  But…maybe it wasn't her, because that would mean Grady, Shay, and Gibby weren't far away. Gibby would never willingly leave her pet, so either they were here or they weren't. I couldn’t decide which was worse. Shay and Gibby didn't belong in a place like this, and Grady was known and hunted just like the rest of his pack. Were they here against their will? Because if they were looking for a warm place to sleep, the cabin was just three miles from here.

  "What do we do?" I asked.

  "We watch. We listen, just like Ribbons there."

  "You think it's her?"

  "It is her. She smells the same."

  Ignoring the man still doubled over, she squatted on the opposite side of the porch, quickly did her business, and then raced inside again without a second glance our way.

  We crossed toward the edge of the building and then rounded toward the front where the song faded. The main door stood closed. I stepped away from Thomas’s warmth and instantly regretted it. Sasha stared up out of my coat at her alpha, and I noted the snowflakes sticking to his long lashes and catching in his beard. The effect was stunning, especially as he towered over me and gazed down at me, his eyes dipping to my lips for an instant.

  "I could go in,” I offered, my teeth beginning to chatter. “You could give me your coat to cover up mine, and I could find out if they're really in there or not."

  He rolled his eyes skyward. "You're not going anywhere alone, Aika. Besides, they'll recognize you, too, no matter what you wear. You're kind of hard to miss with your bow and quiver and determination."

  "Then we just go in, arrows and guns blazing?"

  "Yes and no. We just go in. Blazing only when it's necessary. We don't know who's in there yet, so we'll look like we belong as soon as we stroll in."

  "Right,” I sighed. “I've never belonged anywhere. I like the arrows and guns blazing idea much better."

  He reached up and cupped the side of my neck, startling warmth back into my flesh. His breaths steamed over my lips as he leaned down and touched his nose to mine. My eyes sank closed at the touch, and as Sasha squirmed inside my coat, I realized she did that too. Touched noses. It must be a select wolf thing, a sign of…affection.

  "You belong with my pack," he said.

  My heart both swelled and ached, and a sharp sting burned my eyes more than the cold. I belonged with his pack. I'd felt it for a long time, but to hear him say it solidified it with stone and gave it the weight to be real. The pack was mine, and I was theirs, so long as I lived.

  I nodded, his palm grazing my cheek. "Thank you."

  He pulled away, slowly like he always did, and handed me my bow and quiver from his shoulder.

  "If they're in there—"

  "Then we'll get them out. One step at a time, though."

  I secured my bow and quiver, one over each shoulder for balance, and then made sure Sasha was bundled down in my coat with a sliver of space for her to see through. "But if they are in there, why is everyone I love trapped inside a brothel or being sold as a slave at a town hall?"

  "They can be mean, savage places where it's easy to take someone's control away from them. Opium, liquor, sex can all be used as weapons."

  To make Gibby and Shay susceptible to that though… I shook my head and forced myself to breathe. "This place should’ve burned."

  "Knowing Grady, if he's inside, he's probably working on that right now. Come on."

  Thomas entered first, his hood fully drawn, effectively hiding the lump in my coat. I followed, my nerves bunched in knots. From the sound of it, no one seemed to stop what they were doing, a good sign. I would take all the good signs I could get.

  Twin fires crackled from the left wall and stifled the air with sweat and heat. Too much of it. Along the back wall, the door that had been propped open by the retching man was now shut.

  We made our way through the tables and around laughing, swaying couples toward the bar on the right. When we sat, my fingers found the worn grooves in the wood in front of me, and from the feel of the rough-etched loops, the slight creak of my stool, I was certain I was sitting in the same place I had been the last time I’d been here.

  "Cold son of a bitch out there, isn't it?" an older man asked from behind the bar.

  "Mmm," Thomas said in agreement. "On my way in here, I swear I saw a black cat."

  One thing about Thomas—he got right to the point.

  "Wrong kind of pussy round here. I don't know anything about no cat. Are you thirsty or what? Seems you don't need a woman since
you brought your own."

  "We're also looking for a man," I said.

  "A man with a limp," Thomas filled in.

  "One-Toed Toddy? He's upstairs working."

  "He doesn't work here," I said through gritted teeth.

  The man spread his hands out on the bar top. "I thought you were looking for a cat."

  In a blink, Thomas had snatched him by the collar, squeezing the sweater tightly around the man's neck, and dragged him to eye level, his face unnervingly blank. The barkeep gasped and turned red, trying to pry Thomas's fingers off but not getting anywhere.

  "Listen to me close," Thomas said, his voice deadly grace. "Stop talking in circles. Answer our questions with the truth. That's your only option."

  When he released him, the barkeep choked and sputtered, "Up-upstairs."

  With a nod, Thomas laid down a coin from his coat on the bar as he stood. "For your trouble."

  When we were several feet away and moving toward the brothel's rear, I muttered, "Why pay him?"

  "He's just doing his job."

  "I wouldn't have paid him."

  "He has a family. There was a photo of them behind the bar. Four more mouths to feed."

  "You felt sorry for him."

  He took my elbow as he glanced down at me. "I saw you in him. He's human. Like you, he didn't ask to be a part of this."

  “Oh,” I muttered. "You have a real talent for changing my mind."

  "Same goes for me." He took my hand and weaved his fingers though mine. "Stay close."

  I pressed a smile into my fur collar, my blood singing at his thoughtfulness, both toward me and the barkeep. Before I'd met him, I'd never given much thought to what Thomas, or any alpha, would be like. He was compassionate while at the same time scary as hell. A rare mix but excellent qualities to have in a leader.

  Unlike the town hall in Margin, the upstairs here was deadly quiet and forked right and straight ahead.

  "If Grady's here, at least we'll be able to hear him," I whispered.

  "The guy's had one volume since he was born." Thomas angled us toward the right hallway.

  "You too, I bet."

  Inside my coat, Sasha sniffed then stiffened. I crossed my arms over her, frowning.

  Thomas inhaled like he was about to say something, but ahead about eight feet, silk fabric rustled, followed by the snick of a door. A blonde woman stood outside, her hair hiding her face as she stuck a long key in the door and turned it. When she looked up at us, her eyes widened and her skirt sighed as she hid the key behind her back.

  We stopped, Thomas blocking my body with his, but I leaned around him to let her gaze scour my face. I knew her, knew the scent of peonies suffusing the air.

  "Who's in the room?" I demanded.

  "Last time I saw you, you were stealing a bottle of my best whiskey and my favorite coat."

  As soon as she spoke with that smoky, sultry voice, I knew I was right. She was the woman who'd mocked me, had offered to hire me to work here. I'd kept Sasha completely hidden when I'd come here before, but she fit how I'd imagined her. Beautiful, even her hard, accusatory stare and pinched mouth.

  "I didn't come to return the coat,” I said. “What's in the room?"

  "Business. We are in a brothel, after all. I was making sure my customers are happy." Her blue eyes flicked toward Thomas and lingered on his broad shoulders, his height, the whole sensual package other than his hidden face. "Just like I would do for brand new customers."

  My gut burned, and Thomas tightened his grip on my hand as if he could hear me boiling.

  "Where's the black cat and the man who limps," he demanded.

  I fingered my bow, bringing her attention back to me, since she knew exactly what I could do with it if she lied—or even if she told the truth. Human or no, my compassion was fickle sometimes.

  She loosed a long, resolved sigh. "They're down this hall. The little girl was sick when they arrived. Fever and chills that turned into a persistent cough."

  We started to slip past her, but she held up her hand.

  "I won't try to stop you, but you should know Faust is here."

  "Where," Thomas growled, and it felt like thunder rolling down my back.

  "The second door on the left down that other hallway,” she said, pointing. "He doesn't know your friends are here."

  "Let's keep it that way," Thomas muttered.

  “And Lager?” I asked. “Is he here?”

  She shook her head. “Haven’t seen him.”

  Thomas guided me forward.

  "Hey," the woman called, rapping twice on the wall for our attention.

  We turned.

  A perfect smile curled her painted lips. "The coat looks better on you."

  I nodded my thanks once, and we continued down the end of the hall while her dress rustled toward the stairs, her steps quick as a cat's.

  "See if Gibby and Shay are ready for travel,” Thomas told me. “I'll explain everything that's happened to Grady."

  "Got it." So much had happened since we'd last seen him. My heart stumbled at the thought of seeing him again and broke simultaneously at the idea of him learning about Archer.

  Thomas lifted his hand to knock as we neared their door—but unease iced down my back. Before I knew why, I lunged for his fist and wrapped it in my palms to stop him.

  "No," was all I breathed, hardly a whisper as I turned back down the hallway.

  I couldn't hear a thing from inside the room, not even Grady.

  Sasha wasn't reacting excitedly to Grady's nearness. At all. She fought with all her little might to get away.

  The woman had left us too fast. Her rap on the wall—that had been a signal.

  We had just been tricked.

  All these truths collided in my head too quickly to voice, but Thomas seemed to realize them, too, as he lowered his hand, his wide gaze sealed to my face.

  Too late. We were too late.

  Because gunfire pelted the wood in front of us, a door made of bullets and split seconds.

  Chapter Nine

  I swam through blind panic in my haste to get away, get Sasha away, but time had slowed to a crawl. I couldn't think. And I couldn't outrun a bullet in time.

  Thomas crashed into me and locked his arms around me and Sasha in a protective cocoon. He jerked and the coppery scent of blood filled the air. He'd been hit.

  "Run!" he shouted as he shoved us away. His forearms slammed into my back as he reached into his coat and brought out his gun, already swiveling toward the door.

  The gunfire ceased, and not a second afterward, Thomas kicked the door down. There were shouts. Chaos. My thoughts scrambled round and round as I raced down the hallway toward the stairs.

  That blonde woman had set a trap for us, had lured us with compliments and false promises. But how much of her lies had been partly true?

  "Grady!" I yelled over the clamor behind me. "Grady!"

  No answer. Was he even here? I reached the bend in the hallway and faced Sasha toward the one we hadn't gone down, where the woman had told us Faust was. One door juddered hard, as if it had been locked from the outside with a key. From inside, muffled shouts and the scrape of wood sounded.

  Grady. As if to confirm it, Sasha wriggled free of my coat and yipped right in my ear.

  Another muffled shout came from inside, a growled mix of frustration and hope.

  It came from the second door on the left. The woman had told us where both Faust and Grady were but had switched the rooms.

  Not an accident. Not even a little bit. Faust had probably paid her well.

  I hauled toward the door and slammed my fists against it, tried the knob, swept my boot back and kicked. "Grady!"

  An answering growl sounded behind it, and it triggered Sasha into a meltdown. She squirmed so hard that half her body soon dangled out of my coat, and her loud whimpers warred with my clanging heartbeat. It was him in there. It had to be.

  "Hush. Hush." I wrestled her back into my coat and rested m
y hand against the door to ground myself. "Wait for me, Grady."

  The door stopped vibrating. He'd heard me. He trusted me to get him out.

  My mind raced as I made my way to the stairwell entry, then gazed left down the other hallway. Eerie quiet thickened the air. The door to the room at the end of the hall leaned against the opposite wall, completely torn from its hinges and riddled with bullet holes. I didn't know where Thomas had gone, whether there was another stairwell, whether he'd been shot one too many times.

  "Thomas?" I tried, but my breaths were too shallow to speak.

  If he were in there dead— If someone else was lurking inside, waiting for someone else to pick off…

  No, I had to get Grady out first. It sickened me to not go check, but I took to the stairs. I knew exactly where Grady was, so I'd focus on him first.

  Thomas could take care of himself. He always had.

  As soon as I stepped off the stairs and turned the corner, I skidded to a stop. The piano had stopped, and the men formed a wall between me and the women behind them. Several had weapons, all aimed at me.

  "Drop the bow and your arrows," one of them ordered, his voice steady, his grip on his gun even steadier. I couldn’t tell if he was human or not, but if he were a wolf shifter, I had a feeling I'd be dead by now.

  I took a slow breath and didn’t move a muscle. "My friend is being held against his will upstairs. That gunfire you heard? That was people shooting at me and the man I came in here with."

  "Your bow. Your arrows." His weapon clicked. "Now."

  And then what? Not me walking out of here with Grady and Thomas. It was me against a brothel full of people, pissed that I’d disturbed their night. The odds were stacked against me.

  "Okay," I said, even though it was anything but. I moved my hand slowly toward my bow and quiver slung over my shoulder.

  They're mean, savage places where it's easy to take someone's control away from them, Thomas had said about brothels and slave auctions. That would happen to me as soon as I was unarmed. No control, surrounded by people who would love to see me dead. Every slow inch I dragged off my bow and quiver clenched my chest.