“This is the eastern gate. Kind of humble, huh?” Fallon asked.
“Where’s the gate?” Cassidy asked snidely.
“Oh, it’s invisible,” Fallon answered easily, winking and impressing the kids.
It wasn’t a gate, so much as a large, snug barracks huddled in the trees. A wide dirt road stretched beyond it, curving up a hill and vanishing. Across from it, there was a roofed-in pavilion, roughly hewn out of stone and wood. It had several tables, fire pits, and grills. People milled about, lounging, chatting, getting warm, playing cards, having breakfast, and drinking coffee.
I came to a dead stop.
Coffee.
The caffeinated scent rose in my nostrils, making my mouth water and my heartbeat quicken. I’d thought coffee would be extinct by now.
Suddenly a squad of females broke off from the pavilion and came darting up to us. They were all dressed like Fallon, crying out as they hugged her and greeted us.
“Anything?” Fallon asked, and the women shook their heads. But they beamed as they looked us over. “I know, first refugees in a while. Go get some rest, and good work.”
With that, they were off, running and hooting, waving at the men. At the tree line, they shifted, and several large cats flew into the forest. Drue gripped my hand, and I smiled down at her.
But to my surprise, Drue didn’t look frightened—she looked enthralled. “Who were they?”
“My elite scouts and fighters,” Fallon said as she ushered us inside the barracks. There was an older man snoozing at a desk, his head tipped back, and a coffee pot gurgling behind him. I was practically salivating at this point. “Best in Winfyre.”
“Wow.” Drue’s face was shining. “Reagan, did you hear that?”
“Yeah,” I said and ruffled her hair.
“Tello,” Fallon barked and kicked the man’s desk. He jerked awake and yawned, then straightened, a baffled look coming over his face as he blinked around at us. “Nice. You always nap on Monday mornings?”
“It’s Monday?” I asked in wonder. God, that sounded so normal.
“What the hell, Fallon, it’s not like…” He trailed off, and a smile broke across his face. “More of yours?” She nodded. “Welcome, folks. Apologize for that. Been a bit slow.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Fallon said, and she turned to us. “This is where we say goodbye.”
“What?” Drue burst out, and Fallon reached out to squeeze my cousin’s shoulder. “Why?”
“I have a lot to do,” Fallon said and smiled around at us. “You’re in good hands with Tello. He can answer all your questions better than I ever could. And now that you’re inside the borders, I can leave you with a clear conscience. You’re safe, here.”
“Will we see you again?” Drue asked.
Fallon laughed. “Of course, kiddo, we’re neighbors now. Don’t be shy. And don’t worry, Winfyre takes care of its own. Everyone is going to be so excited to see you.” She hesitated and turned. “How many do I have left, Tells?”
To our surprise, Tello groaned. “Fallon, you’re going to get me in trouble with the boss.” She looked at him, and he grumbled, pulling out a binder and flicking it open. “Three.”
“What about for minors?” Fallon pressed. “Couldn’t I have four?”
Tello looked at her, and she looked back, slowly smiling.
“You’re gonna get my ass cooked for this, Deacon,” Tello muttered and stamped something in the book. She grinned. “Outta my office.” He pointed at Jemma. “Why don’t we start with you, ma’am, since you’ve got that beautiful baby girl. Name?”
Blowing us a kiss, Fallon ran out of the room and out the door. I wandered over, watching her go and wondering what that had been about. Four what?
My eyes drifted up to the sky, and I took in that perfect spring blue, savoring the sense of safety and cleanliness. A scrap of civilization. It’s real. We’re safe. We’re home.
Suddenly, something whispered along my skin, and a tingle of heat blossomed in my chest.
At first, I thought I was imagining things.
Until I dropped my gaze and met his.
Heat unfurled over me in a dizzy wave, while my breathing became shaky, and my nails dug into my palms. Those eyes, a bright, unreal turquoise, narrowed slightly. Sitting on top of a table, one leg stretched to the ground, the other drawn up to his chest, and his muscled arms loosely draped over his knee, he seemed at ease, but I knew otherwise.
I could see the wolf in him, the heightened senses taking me in. The power and the otherworldliness. The hum in my blood swelled into a symphony.
That’s never happened before.
Not as burly as the bear shifters, the wolf was a hard and strong man, built with lines of litheness and speed. Tousled dirty blond hair fell into his eyes, touched with silver, but he couldn’t have been that much older than I was. Maybe early thirties. All in all, an intense kind of handsome, with rugged lines of jaw and brow, a strong nose, and sensual lips.
Lips that pulled into a smirk. My cheeks heated up as my own lips twisted. I’d been staring at him without meaning to. I had the sense of being under an x-ray, and I stumbled back.
“Rea?” my mother asked.
I turned and saw everyone watching me, their faces varying between expectation and curiosity. Shelby’s eyes flicked past me, and I quickly hurried over.
An uneasy thought hit me. What if he’d sensed I wasn’t a stasis? Maybe I shouldn’t lie.
As Tello picked up a pen, the room form blurred and warped before my eyes, while my breathing grew short. Cold sweat was dripping down my back, and I swore that the wolf shifter was still looking at me. Did he know what I was? Could he do that?
God, what would that mean? I'd managed to hide my Rift abilities so far, but if that bastard knew…
I couldn’t imagine that would be good. As far as I knew, no one except for me could identify shifters and what kinds of animals they were. A gift that could be dangerous in the wrong hands.
I looked around at my family.
A gift that could hurt the people in this room.
“Miss, are you all right?” Tello asked.
“Sorry,” I said and snapped my attention back to him. His pen was poised over the form. “What is this for?”
“Records, mostly,” Tello said. “We don’t have a lot of bureaucracy, but this is a necessary evil for civilization. It’s how we create your papers.”
“Papers?” I asked.
“Identification, work papers, the works,” Tello explained and smiled. “Name?”
“Reagan Grace.”
“Stasis, shifter, or other?”
The moment warped, and my blood hummed, while my throat went tight.
“Stasis,” I lied.
Chapter Four
Luke
Reagan Grace.
I inhaled the pretty refugee’s scent again, that thread of soap, exhaustion, and some spice unique to her. With a kick that I could taste on my tongue.
This is the one Lazu warned me about.
I didn't appreciate being summoned by the wolf, nor his incessant need to impart wisdom to me or call me a pup. But I couldn't deny the Farthing pack had helped us Northbaners out more than once. Plus, Xander wanted me to be nice to them.
But Lazu had also brought this Reagan and her pack here. Last night, he’d been fiercely protective and warning of danger trailing behind. What Lazu didn’t understand was that he hadn’t needed to warn me. Christ, I’d scented her secrets miles away, days ago. While Lazu, Ayani, and the rest of the Farthing Wolves might think she was something special, I wasn’t sold on that theory yet.
“Stasis,” she said.
Liar, I thought. But why?
I knew I could go in there, have one word with Tello, and have Reagan Grace tossed out on her ass. But of course, she’d come here with kids, family, and Fallon. I blew out a sigh.
Damn Fallon, Rett’s bossy as hell older sister, still trying to save the world.
Not that
there was much of it left to save these days, not after the Rift.
Okay, so I maybe nursed an old grudge when it came to Fallon. She was the fastest runner I’d ever known. From stupid races as kids to marathons to now—you’d think a grown man would learn not to be baited. But when Fallon challenged me to a race, and I saw that pigtailed brat who was all legs and pranks, I couldn’t resist. Nor was I a gracious loser, exactly.
Yet if there was one thing getting me through this hell, it was my Winfyre family. I'd never admitted it out loud, but I was glad none of them had changed in the ways that mattered. Rett still made me laugh, Kal was still a man of few words, Tristan a man of too many, and Fallon was still the fastest human alive. I mean, sure, we could shift into beasts and had abilities straight out of a movie, but fundamentally, my friends were the same.
Well, Xander…
I cut that thought off. Nope, wasn’t going to go there.
Behind me, Jeques rattled dice in his palm and tossed it across the table. There were groans from the guys, and several of them got up and left. Glancing back, I caught his huge grin.
“Wanna roll, boss?”
“Sure,” I said and looked back at the barracks. “But not with you, J.” I nudged Hagan, a wiry lion shifter. “Do me a favor—go in there, get Reagan Grace, her papers, and Tello. Keep the rest of the family inside. I need to talk to her alone.”
“The new refugee?” Hagan asked, unfolding himself and stretching. “Why?”
“Might make a claim,” I said, and there were a few surprised murmurs from the guys. “Ah, shut up. Go on, Hags.”
Jeques rested his heavy elbows on the table as Hagan loped off. “What are you up to?”
“I’m here; she’s here,” I said.
“You want a mate?” Borgez asked, rumpling up his wild hair, and there was laughter around the table. “No offense or anything, just wondering.”
“Not how it works, Borgs,” I said and leaned back as Tello and Reagan came out. “Guys, give me and Jeques the table?” There was some grumbling, but they got up. “Thanks.”
My breath caught hard in my chest, and my blood stirred. Her scent filled me, warm and alluring—summer rain, storms, and that spice. Damn, who was this woman?
Dark circles punched out her soft gray-green eyes. Wavy black hair fell to her shoulders in two messy pigtails, and dark freckles stood out on her tanned face. She was tall and lithe, muscled and thin in the way only hard weeks in the wilderness could wreak on your body. Changes that came from climbing impossible heights, lugging your gear on your back, sleeping on hard ground, and not eating enough. Yet her face already held a challenge, and I found myself grinning.
“Sir?” Tello asked. “What’s this about? You can’t…” I raised a brow at him. “I mean, you can.”
Reagan’s eyes flashed to him, then back to me. Now she was wary.
I could appreciate that.
“Hey, Tel,” I said and held out my hand for the dice. Jeques dropped them in, and I rolled them between my palms. “How’re the new refugees holding up?”
“We’re fine,” Reagan said, and Jeques let a chuckle slip.
This close, I could see the tense way she held herself. The tension radiating through every muscle almost caused a vibration in the air. She might have fire, but she was close to burning out.
I didn’t like the thought of that one bit.
“Where you from, Ms. Grace?” I asked.
“How do you know my name?” Reagan asked and folded her arms around herself.
“Good hearing,” I said with a shrug.
She wasn’t surprised by this, and I found myself leaning forward, inspecting her. She wasn’t a shifter, that was for damn sure. But she wasn’t untouched, either. The Rift had screwed with her blood, gotten down in her DNA, and done whatever it did.
What are you, Reagan Grace? Why’d you lie about being a stasis? Do you not know yet?
"Seattle," Reagan answered after a moment of prolonged silence. The word sounded odd on her lips. Almost like its name had Fallen, and she was struggling to remember it.
“Phoowee.” Jeques shook his head. “Damn, that was a haul, lady. Good for you.”
“No trouble?” I asked, and my eyes flicked to the barracks.
Reagan laughed and shrugged. “Sure.”
I smiled at her. “Forgive me, just been a while since we got new blood. Wondered if you had a secret or somethin’. Maybe we could tell Fallon, and she could pass it along to other families."
Reagan’s arms loosened. “You know Fallon?”
“Who doesn’t?” asked Jeques with an affectionate laugh. “Shoot, I’d marry that girl if I could catch her.” He put a hand over his heart. “We’d be dead men without the Vixens.”
“The Vixens?” Reagan asked, and now she was smiling.
“It’s the nickname for Fallon’s unit,” Jeques replied. “She coulda been a Command, but she chose otherwise. Wanted to make sure she could leave Winfyre to get folks here.”
By some grace of God, the leopard shifter was here today, warm and smiling, getting under Reagan’s guard without my having to lift a finger. He often worked the gates, our very own Greeter.
“Good to know,” Reagan said, and fidgeted. “So, what’s a Command?”
I grinned lazily. “Me.”
A puzzled look passed over her face, and Jeques spoke up eagerly. “Command means in charge of the pack. You know, the big cheese. It’s him, the Deacon boys, Llary, and of course, the HC.”
“We try to keep the Northbane shifters in line, though it’s never too hard with good guys like Jeques here,” I said, leaning back and clapping the black man on the shoulder. “Commands oversee Northbane territory. Keep our folks safe.” I smiled at her. “Like you.”
Reagan’s smile thinned as she kept it pinned on her face. “Oh. Thanks.”
“Tel, you explain how it works?” I asked, and Tello nodded. “You understand you don’t get to stay here for free, right, Ms. Grace?” Reagan drew herself up straighter. “Everyone works. And being that we’re shifters, sometimes we’re drawn to certain people.” I pushed past the sudden thickness in my throat. Goddamn, I wished there was a better way to explain this. “And so, we claim them.”
Claim was as close as it got to explaining the explosive protectiveness that rose up in some shifters around specific people. A kind of recognition. In the last year, we’d determined as much since it was hard to put into words.
It was an instinct to keep one’s own safe, no matter the cost or consequences. It meant their life was entwined with yours, their blood was more important than your own.
Some shifters experienced it a lot, like Fallon, and had to be limited in their claims.
Others hadn’t even experienced it yet, like me.
Until today and Reagan Grace. Trouble or not, this girl was the first person I’d claim.
Rett and Fallon had both said it was impossible to ignore. I’d wondered at that, but now that it was howling through me, as strong as the pull of the moon on the tides, I knew.
“Don’t worry,” I said dryly as Reagan stared at me in horror. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“Claim…I don’t…” She gripped her elbows now, clearly not hearing anything beyond that word. “I won’t prostitute myself to some damn shifter,” she burst out. My body locked up, and, next to me, Jeques let out a soft, surprised sound, while Tello started. “If that’s how Winfyre—”
“Stop,” I interrupted, heart slamming into my throat, and Jeques grabbed my shoulder.
“Luke, she’s exhausted,” Jeques said in a low voice, though the humor was gone from his voice. He regarded Reagan with a cool and appraising look. “You should take care to know all the details before you start leveraging accusations. We of the Northbane are shifters of honor and strength. We protect and cherish all life. We’d never—” He shook his head. “A claim is a matter of connection, not of ill will.”
“Connection?”
Jeques glanced at me, and
I nodded. “Honor is Law among the Northbane, Ms. Grace.”
“I’m going to go,” Jeques said and rose to his feet, nodding at her. “I hope everything works out here, but I have matters to attend to.”
Something in his voice caused Reagan to recoil, and she looked slightly mortified. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
“It’s all right. Luke, Tello,” Jeques said, and left.
“Honor is a serious matter among us Northbane,” Tello said.
I said nothing, scratching my jaw and trying to stifle my irritation at her immediate, worst-case scenario assumption. But there was also a tightness in my chest, an uneasiness that perhaps this was a kneejerk reaction to protect herself.
Did someone hurt her?
At the mere question, every wild instinct in me roared and clawed to get free.
“Kind of an ironic reaction, then,” Reagan muttered and glanced at me.
I grimaced, but managed, somehow, to say in a breezy voice, “Well, you couldn’t know, but there is no tolerance for any kind of assault or harassment in Winfyre. From anyone.” Her eyebrows rose in disbelief. “You’ll see. And to suggest otherwise—well, it’s a complete insult.”
“Okay, then what exactly is claiming?” Reagan said. “I’m not a piece of property, Mr. Honor.”
“You’re a part of the Northbane now, darlin’, and some manners wouldn’t hurt,” I drawled, and she flushed. “I get that you’ve been in the woods, and I sympathize with all the hell you’ve gone through, but you better learn to keep those comments quiet.”
“Sorry,” Reagan muttered, and her shoulders slumped. “It’s just a lot.”
“I know. Tello, go back in and finish with her family.” He went to walk away, and I snapped my fingers. “Hey, leave those.”
I took the papers and thumbed through them, ignoring Reagan. Twenty-seven years old, birthday in August, no known Rift-affected powers, came with parents, sister, cousin’s family, another small family, three children, and one toddler.
Damn. The family might prove to be a problem if Reagan was.
Into the welcome silence, I explained, “Claiming, beyond the shifter aspect, really boils down to this—you’ll work for me,” I half-fibbed as I looked up. “Mighty coveted spot, the right hand of one of the Northbane Command. And before you ask, decline, or say something sassy”—Reagan had opened her mouth—“we’re short on people who can help us run the place.”
Wolf's Wager (Northbane Shifters) Page 3