by Riley Storm
The big shifter shrugged, uncaring. “Not as long as I keep paying, he won’t. You know that.”
“Maybe,” she agreed, exiting the vehicle. “Still, you’ve gotta stop it.”
“I’ll try,” he said sheepishly, following her out of the police cruiser. “I’m just still excited about being allowed to sit in the front seat.”
Rachel groaned. “How long am I going to be hearing about that? It’s been two months now!”
Khove chuckled, sending a shiver of happiness through her. It had been tough to get used to working with the love of her life, but their partnership had actually blossomed because of it. Their differing styles worked well together, and Khove wasn’t so insecure that he had issues being her subordinate, given that he wasn’t actually a member of the law.
Now, together, they’d made the final arrest in the arson cases that had preceded Korred’s attack on the Manor. All along, they’d suspected there was still someone else out there. The one person who liaised with Korred, his go-between, so to speak. Now they had him.
Somewhere along the way as well, Rachel’s guilt about Vince’s death had been eased. She would never entirely forgive herself, but she didn’t carry it around like shackles anymore. He had been doing his job, and unfortunately, sometimes the bad guys got the upper hand.
Khove had been a big help with that, because he not only trusted her to do her job despite the safety risks associated with it, but by working him, she was forced to trust him. It was that trust, Rachel had realized, that she’d been unable to handle after Vince. She’d had a need to control everything. It was why the two people who had been assigned as her partners before she left the city had asked for reassignment. They couldn’t handle her micromanaging.
That didn’t happen with Khove. He politely told her to back off and let him do his job, simply refusing to let her overpower him. That had led to some fights at home over the first few weeks, but eventually she’d adapted. It was growing easier every day now.
“Well, shall we get him over to the cell block and processed?” Khove suggested, interrupting her little mental break.
“Definitely. Do you mind doing the honors?” she asked, gesturing at the door. “I think he likes you.”
Chuckling to himself, Khove opened the rear door. “Out!” he barked.
The prisoner slid out with rapid movements and no protests.
“This way,” Rachel pointed, and the prisoner moved, completely silent, following every direction without protest or hesitation. Yes, working with Khove had its benefits sometimes.
“Corningstone.”
She looked up as the officer behind the desk called her name. “Gomez,” she said, unable to be completely neutral while preparing herself for the evaluating gaze she knew her body was about to receive.
“This the guy?” Gomez asked, meeting her eyes.
“Yeah. Finally got him,” she said.
“Good job,” he said, looking at his computer, then over at the criminal.
“Thanks,” she replied, feeling awkward.
Gomez looked up, and once again he met her stare, and his eyes didn’t go elsewhere. Something flickered behind them as well. “Glad we have you on board, Detective. This was a tough case to crack. I doubt I could have done it.”
Rachel didn’t want to breathe. “Thank you, Gomez,” she replied, trying to sound casual.
There was a moment of awkward silence, neither of them quite sure how to proceed, unsure of what the newfound respect between them entailed.
“Well don’t just stand there, give him your name,” Khove barked, shoving the prisoner up against the glass. “Whatever the nice man behind the desk wants, you tell him, got it?”
“Got it!” the prisoner yelped, his chubby cheeks smashed flat against the thick window.
Rachel and Gomez shared a chuckle.
43
“You look ready to faint.”
Khove stared straight ahead.
“Or vomit. Yeah, definitely vomit.”
“If this is your idea of a pep talk, might I suggest starting over?” he growled.
Rachel playfully swatted at his shoulder, then tugged his uniform into position. It was black, like that of the House Guards, but instead of red piping along the sides his was gold. Twin gold bears marked the sides of his stiff collar. He tugged on the edge, the damnable material itching and tugging at the beard he’d decided to grow.
“You’re going to do fine,” his mate reassured him, giving his butt a squeeze. “I know it. Your Queen knows it. Most of your House knows it. The only one who doesn’t is you, which just goes to reinforce the fact you’re going to be perfect for the job.”
Reaching out, Khove snagged Rachel’s hand, holding it tight. “That was much better,” he said. “Thank you. Though, next time, maybe lead with that?”
“Now where’s the fun in that?” she teased, pulling him down to her height to kiss his cheek. “Now go out there and be the best Knight you can be. Your House needs you right now, Khove.”
Turning to look at his mate square on, he held her by the shoulders. “I love you.”
Rachel blushed and reached up, squeezing both of his hands. “I love you too, Khove Ursa. I’ll still be here after, don’t worry about that.”
Now it was his turn to grin evilly.
“What?” she asked nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that, Khove? What’s going on?”
“Didn’t the Queen tell you about the change of plans?” he taunted as music began to swirl out from between the copper doors leading into the Throne Room.
“No.” Frowning, Rachel looked back at the doors, then at him. “What’s changed?”
Khove adjusted his feet, slipped an arm here…grab that, spin, and—
“Oh no,” Rachel said as she suddenly found herself at his side, arm linked, facing the double doors. “This is not happening, Khove. This is for you, not me.”
“Incorrect,” he chuckled, quite pleased with himself for pulling off the deception. “This is for us. To be appointed to a position of power, to become a Title Holder, it is mandated that a shifter must have a mate. It’s meant to ground us and give us someone who will slap us around if we’re being dumb.”
“I’m gonna slap you around right now,” Rachel muttered darkly, making a half-assed attempt to get away.
Holding her arm firmly, Khove continued as if he hadn’t heard a thing. “Most of House Ursa has not met you yet, my love. It is past time for that to happen, especially if I am to become their Knight, and one day their King.”
“How did I not see this coming?” Rachel complained. “I actually fell for the Queen’s line that I needed to be this dolled up for the afterparty. What an idiot!”
Khove’s laughter died as the doors opened and the full sound of the royal music swept over them. “You look beautiful, my dear,” he assured her and stepped forward, knowing full well that she was a sight to behold.
Walking beside him, Rachel immediately drew the majority of the attention to herself. She looked simply stunning. Her dress was of a deep royal blue, falling nearly to the floor. A golden sash hung from one shoulder, a sign of her being a member of the ruling party of House Ursa. Her hair was long and lustrous, shimmering under the sparkle of lights.
Rarely was the Throne Room this bright, but then, it was also rare that a new successor to the throne was appointed. Now, the giant rectangular room gleamed as light reflected off every surface, turning it from a serious place of business into a royal hall worthy of its name.
Keeping his steps measured and slow so Rachel could match his pace with ease, the two followed a red carpet to the steps of the raised dais at the rear of the room.
The various seats of power and those of their mates were filled. A quartet sat empty. Both the Queen and Kvoss, the Assassin of the House, sat alone. Their mates were no longer around. Yet Khove caught more than one glance between the two, and he stifled a grin, remembering that Kincaid had sworn him to secrecy about what he
saw.
The other empty seats would soon be filled as he and Rachel ascended the stairs and took their places. First, there would be speeches of course. The Queen was already rising to make hers.
Khove came to a halt at the foot of the stairs, Rachel at his side. With a wave of her hands, the Queen silenced the music and the muted whispers of the members of the House. The room was filled beyond capacity. Members of House Ursa from around the world had travelled for the ceremony, and many more had come to fill the vacancies left by those who had fallen in the fight against Korred.
There were all too many unfamiliar faces present.
“House Ursa.” The Queen’s voice carried easily over the assembled crowd. “Today is a day of celebration. For months now, we have been in mourning. For years before that, we were unhappy.”
At that, many of the members of the crowd stirred uneasily.
“I see your faces,” the Queen continued. “You wonder why I bring attention to this, and wonder if it is fact, or folly. I tell you it is fact! Our House has long been fractured, though we are loath to admit it to ourselves. The golden years of our ancestors, in the wake of the signing of the Peace of Novarupta to mark the end of our war with the human mages, they are gone! Our power rose like a star in the days following the peace. But we grew lazy. Arrogant. Stuck in our ways.”
If the crowd had gone silent before, now they went still. Even Khove, who had known much of what the Queen had planned to say, was brought under her spell. This, he thought to himself. This is power.
“Do I believe that we deserved such a harsh awakening call? That so many of us had to die for House Ursa to right itself and set us on a path back to being the symbol for all the other Houses to follow? No, of course not. The death of so many is a horrid thing. We have all suffered,” she said, looking away, and Khove saw the emotion on her face as she talked about losing her mate. “Our House has suffered. We have been through the crucible of battle. Broken down, melted for parts and left to rot.”
The crowd was entranced now as the Queen’s voice built to a rising crescendo. “But we have not given up. New members have stepped forward to fill our ranks.”
Khove’s eyes glanced over the newest members of the Ursa Council.
The Captain, Kirell and his mate Natalia.
Kincaid the Hunter, and Haley.
The Champion Klaue, sitting next to Rachel.
The Magi Kasperi and his second—and love—the human mage, Amber.
His attention returned to his Queen, the glue that had held the House together during this trying time, whether she liked to acknowledge it or not. Her eyes blazed with jade fire as she looked out across the assembled members of her House.
“We have been reforged. We have been hurt, true, but together we have picked one another up. Our mettle has been tested in the forges of the fiercest battles seen in over a century, and yet we have come out victorious!”
An answering growl awoke in the crowd at the Queen’s words.
“Some say the time of the Ursidae is waning. Some say we have fallen into disrepute and worse. They are not wrong, my friends. But where we have fallen, we have risen from the ashes like the phoenix, and have been reborn anew. Stronger. Smarter. UNITED!” she finished, thrusting a fist into the air.
The Throne Room erupted in triumphant bellows as the amassed shifters shouted their own defiance to those who would see them fall.
“I give you the final piece,” the Queen called over the roars. “Knight Khove and his mate Rachel!”
The roars increased yet again as he ascended the steps, Rachel resplendent at his side, and Khove wondered if they truly approved of him, or were just caught up in the Queen’s speech.
Be a good ruler, and they will come to approve. The onus rests on me. Not them.
He and Rachel turned as they reached the top, facing out over the crowd. The roars had begun to die down, but Khove looked over at his Queen and thrust his own fist into the air, and the noise built once more.
Then he brought his hand down, and they quieted.
“Well,” he said casually. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to top that.”
Laughter filled the Throne Room.
“But I’m not going to try. Our Queen is right. We have been found wanting, but we have gone through the crucible and come out the other side stronger. Harder. Many still doubt us. They expect us to fail. To fall apart.” He bared his teeth while looking out over the crowd. “I say bring it on.”
The answering roar shook the entire room.
Epilogue
“You’re certain that’s what they said?”
Khove nodded. “Positive. I was…thorough, in my questioning, despite my limited time.” He lifted his hands palm upward. “Truth be told, they did not need much persuading. They didn’t seem to harbor the hatred their older generation does for Ursa.”
Captain Kirell stroked his jaw thoughtfully. “What does this mean?”
“It means what we think it means,” the Queen said from her position at the head of the table. “We learned of this when Canis hired that rogue mage Adrian to come after Klaue’s mate. There was division then, and it now seems to only have gotten worse.”
The other members of the Council nodded.
“What can we do?” Khove asked.
“You assume we should do something,” Kirell replied. “I don’t really think we’re in a position to do much. We’re still rebuilding our defenses, recruiting new soldiers and learning to work together. Do any of us really think that sticking our heads into House Canis’ business is a smart idea right now?”
Silence reigned across the table.
“Maybe not,” Khove agreed at last. “Do we just sit back and observe, then?”
“Yes,” Queen Kaelyn interjected before anyone else could speak. “That is exactly what we will do. The figures in the shadows continue to move. We must keep watch, until the others are ready.”
Khove licked his lips nervously. “Ready for what?”
The Queen’s eyes glowed green. “War.”
Thank you for reading Blood Bearon. This concludes the High House Ursa series
The story continues with Savage Love, High House Canis #1. Sign up to my newsletter to be the first to get it, coming in early April. You’ll also get a fun extra scene with Rachel and Khove!
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If you like this story, I would be very grateful if you left a review, so that others might enjoy the adventure as well.
(Interested in joining my ARC team? Email me: [email protected])
Other Books by Riley Storm
High House Ursa
Bearing Secrets
Furever Loyal
Mated to the Enemy
Shifting Alliances
Blood Bearon
High House Canis
Savage Love coming early April 2019!
About the Author
Riley Storm
Riley is one of those early-morning people you love to hate, because she swears she doesn’t need caffeine, even though the coffee-maker is connected to her smartphone. She lives in a three-story townhouse by the good graces of a tabby-cat who rules the house, the couch, the table, well, basically everywhere.
When she’s not groveling for forgiveness for neglecting to pet her kitty enough, Riley is strapped into her writing chair coming up with crazy worlds where she can make her own decisions of when feeding time is and how much coffee can be drunk without her friends—of which she has three—holding yet another intervention that they threaten to post on the internet.
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