The Change

by C V Leigh

  “Jacob, go back,” he ordered, keeping his eyes on Megan. “Good girl…”

  Jacob left them alone. Megan relaxed further into his touch.

  “I need you to change back,” he said softly. She retreated behind some bales of hay. He’d always told her shifting should be a private affair if possible; transforming was a time when they were at their weakest.

  A moment later, his gut twisted as agonising cries echoed around him. He would never tell her, but the sound of her bones cracking, of her skin stretching and tearing, always left him feeling sick.

  She stood up, her face flushed, the colour creeping up her cheeks and slender throat, out of shame rather than embarrassment, he felt. He trailed his gaze over her, taking in her vulnerability. Her long, brown hair fell over her pale shoulders, stopping at the top of her breasts. Her waist nipped in before the curve of her hips. She bit her lip, averting her eyes, seeming afraid to look at him. It killed him to think she might be scared of him.

  He closed the gap between them, took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

  “I hurt Jacob.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “It’s okay,” he soothed, holding her close. “He’ll heal. He’s dealt with worse.”

  “I’m not doing any of this on purpose.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s like…” She pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. “I feel torn. I don’t know what it is that keeps tugging at me, but the only time I feel safe is when I’m with you. Physically with you.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Then you’ll stay with me. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I thought you needed space. I was wrong.” He helped her inside, sympathetic to her plight. She wasn’t the only one losing control.

  Chapter Five

  Edinburgh

  Zane closed the lid of his laptop and sighed with relief. The meeting with the Council had gone as well as it could have, but it had been a long year, and with Alistair calling them all back to the house, he suspected it was going to be an even longer winter. “Any ideas as to what’s going on?” he asked. “Other than the problems with Megan, I mean.”

  Tess nibbled on her thumbnail–something she did when she was keeping secrets from him. But he knew better than to push her. She might be his girlfriend, but she was Nicholas’ assistant first.

  “What are you allowed to tell me?” He crossed his arms over his chest and kicked his feet onto the boardroom table, taking full advantage of the fact his uncle had left to see the Council members out of the building and fetch the car, and neither of his brothers was there to chastise him. Still, Tess was, and she tutted and batted them down, unimpressed by his audacity.

  She checked her phone, which had just pinged. “I’m allowed to tell you Nicholas is downstairs waiting with the car and our luggage. So you need to get off your arse.”

  He rolled his eyes and stood up, towering over her. “I wish we could make some lame excuse and stay here.” He rested his hands on her hips and swayed her from side to side.

  She looked up at him with bright blue eyes. Wispy strands of blonde hair had escaped from her topknot. She was only just over five feet tall and petite in every sense of the word, but that meant nothing since the blood of a wolf ran through her veins. For such a tiny person, Tess could be incredibly ferocious when she wanted, or needed, to be.

  “But we can’t,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Can we?”

  Tess smiled and stood up on her toes to press her lips to his. “Alistair has called us all home. Even the children are going back. So, unless you’re going to challenge his dominance and his position as Alpha, we’re going.” She said it so sweetly and innocently, yet her tone was filled with warning.

  Zane held up his hands in defence. “Whatever Alistair wants, Alistair gets.”

  “Good boy.” She kissed him again, before stepping back and checking the clipboard clutched to her chest. “How’d the meeting with the Council go? Everything okay?”

  “They had a lot of questions I couldn’t answer, and Nicholas didn’t seem to want to.” He shoved the laptop into his bag and lifted it onto his shoulder. “They also seemed pissed off that it was me there, and not Alistair. I think they’d even have settled for Jacob over me.”

  Tess rubbed at the white scars on her thumb; a rough reminder of the day she’d joined the family.

  Zane’s cheeks heated. It had been five years since he’d disobeyed Alistair and broken the rules. He took hold of her hand and kissed along the raised dots. “No regrets?”

  She snatched her hand back. “No regrets,” she said, going back to her clipboard. “Stop fussing. And stop sulking! You’re as much a Kincaid as any of them. You have every right to sit in on those meetings. More than I do. Alistair does need you. Without you, he’d have no way to control Megan’s episodes.”

  He couldn’t help the guilt weighing in the pit of his stomach. He’d been young and naïve, fresh out of university, and had fallen head over heels in love with her from the moment Nicholas had hired her. She was as beautiful now as she’d been then.

  She peered at him from the corner of her eye. Her mouth twitched into a half-smile, as though reading his thoughts. “Down, boy,” she said with a smirk. She batted at his chest with the clipboard and went back to her list. “I think we’re all done. I just need to grab a few things. I’ll meet you downstairs.” She walked away, one Manolo Blahnik in front of the other, her hips swaying suggestively, giving him a view he considered to be perfect.

  Zane shook his head, disturbing his sordid thoughts, and left the boardroom. He walked down the corridor, heading for the lift. He saw Tess in Nicholas’ office, leaning over the desk and staring at the screen of his computer. He frowned but continued anyway, not slowing his pace.

  The lift smelled of stale perfume and coffee, a stench that, because of his heightened senses, made him gag. The non-lycanthropes working in the office probably wouldn’t even notice it. His stomach turned. He was glad when the doors pinged open. Cold air rushed in, washing away his urge to retch.

  Nicholas stood outside the front doors, dressed in his usual dark-grey suit and fiddling with the silver cufflinks on his crisp, white shirt. He ran a hand over his shaved head. Nobody would guess he was closing in on his sixtieth birthday.

  Zane swept past him with a beaming smile, flashing his teeth at everyone he saw, and tossing playful winks at the beautiful women who strolled along the street. A couple of them giggled; most ignored his flirtatious charm.

  Nicholas shook his head as he joined him in the car park, beside the Mercedes-Benz. He fished the keys from his pocket and pressed the button to unlock the vehicle. “Tess will rip out your beating heart one day.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Zane opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. “She’ll be down in a minute. She’s just finishing up some business.” He considered his uncle for a moment and wondered what secrets they were keeping from each other.

  Nicholas climbed into the driver’s side. “The sooner this is over, the better.”

  “Perhaps if I was given a little extra light and fed a little less shit, I’d be able to help more. I feel like a fucking mushroom.”

  “Alistair will tell you all you need to know when we get there. Don’t be such a child.”

  Zane looked over at the office building and spotted Tess exiting. She glanced up at the offices before making her way down the concrete steps and crossing the street, then heading to the car. She got into the back seat with a heavy sigh of relief and relaxed against the leather.

  “Everything okay?” Zane asked.

  She closed her eyes and murmured agreeably. Her closed lips stretched into a tight smile. “Tired.”

  “Don’t worry. In a few hours, we’ll be in front of a roaring fire, drinking wine.” He reached back and squeezed her knee.

  “Shall we go, then?” Nicholas’ voice sliced into the romantic air.

  “Yeah,” Zane said, turning to face the front. “Let’s go
home.”

  * * *

  Faol Hall, Cairngorms

  They pulled into a private road winding up the side of the mountain, twisting through the pine trees and fields of golden-brown heather. Nicholas stopped at the wrought iron gates at the top and punched in the code. He let out a frustrated sigh when the little black box blinked a red light at them. He tried again. And again, the red light blinked wildly, indicating the wrong code had been entered. He jabbed his thumb into the button labelled ‘OFFICE.’ There was a loud buzz, and the gates creaked open, scraping over the gravel.

  Zane shifted in his seat. The long drive had sent his arse to sleep, and pins and needles attacked his fingertips. In the back seat, Tess slumbered, soft snores emanating from her parted lips. He stretched behind him and touched her knee. “We’re home.”

  Nicholas stopped the car at the bottom of the stone steps leading up to the front door. He got out and had unloaded the luggage from the boot before Tess stirred.

  Zane had been hoping his brothers would be waiting for them with open arms and was bitterly disappointed when he had to go and search for them. It was no surprise to find Alistair in the study, nose buried in the computer, and Jacob sitting in the drawing room, nursing a tumbler of whisky. He dumped his laptop bag on the sofa and sat down next to it. “Rough day?”

  Jacob did nothing more than grunt and take a swig of his drink. There were only five years between them, but it felt like much more. Zane had always been closer to Drake, and Jacob had followed Alistair around like a shadow.

  Tess breezed into the room, oblivious to the frosty tension. She went straight for the mahogany drinks cabinet and took out a bottle of red wine and two glasses. She held them up to Zane. “Care to join me?” she asked playfully and then ran her tongue over the edge of her teeth and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

  Jacob stood, drained his glass and slammed it onto the small table beside the armchair. Zane noticed the awkward glance he exchanged with Tess. “Yeah,” Jacob mumbled. “Enjoy yourselves.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Zane snapped, jumping to his feet. “We’ve just driven a hundred and fifty miles. The least you could do is say ‘hi.’”

  Jacob shot him a look of warning. “Hi.”

  “Ignore him,” Tess said, tiptoeing her way across the plush carpet, now free of her stiletto heels. “I have wine. There’s no roaring fire, but,” she lifted the hand clutching the bottle and trailed a finger down his chest, “we could find some way of warming ourselves up.” She gave a faux shudder and glanced at Jacob. “It’s cold down here. But there’s a nice, thick duvet waiting for us upstairs.”

  Jacob stormed out, pushing past Alistair as he stepped into the room. The air defrosted. “Sorry I wasn’t there to greet you. Good drive?”

  “Not too bad,” Zane said.

  “What’s wrong with Jacob?” Tess asked.

  “Megan had a bad day. She… attacked him,” he said, apparently picking his word carefully and still sounding unsure whether it was the right one to use.

  “Attacked him? Jacob?” Zane exclaimed, holding back the urge to guffaw.

  “Is she all right?” Tess placed the wine glasses and bottle on the floor.

  “Is she all right?” Zane laughed. “What about Jacob’s ego? No wonder he’s in such a shitty mood if he got his arse handed to him by a woman.”

  “Lay off him.” She nudged an elbow into his ribs. “Alistair?” There was genuine concern in her voice.

  “She’s resting. We…” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “We had to sedate her. Zane, those ampules you gave us aren’t strong enough.”

  “I told you,” Tess said.

  “Fuck.” Zane exhaled. “They should be enough to drop an elephant. I’ll need to take some bloods, do some tests.”

  “Once she’s rested, you can. She’ll be happier once she knows you’re here, and when Drake gets home with the children.”

  “Yeah,” Tess agreed. “She’ll be fine.”

  “I’m going to check on her. I just wanted to say ‘hi.’ Get yourselves settled and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

  They both nodded and watched him slope out of the room.

  “Fuck.” Zane rubbed his hands over his face. “What the hell is going on in this house?”

  “I don’t know.” She sounded distant, but soon returned to her cheery self, then bent and retrieved the wine and glasses. “Come on. This wine won’t drink itself!” She ran out of the room, feet padding against the hardwood floor. She felt at home in Faol Hall, and if he was honest with himself, so did Zane.

  Chapter Six

  Little Wickham, Kent

  Derek Kincaid sat behind the wheel of the silver Audi, his eyes fixed on the tall, green fence surrounding Little Wickham’s School for the Gifted. To the outside world, it was a prestigious boarding school that even the most elite and intelligent of children weren’t eligible to attend. This was because the students had gifts beyond intellect, as did the teachers. For much of the year, Little Wickham’s School for the Gifted was home to a host of supernatural pupils; lycanthrope, witches, empaths, and alike. Derek had even known a vampire to attend.

  Red brick piled up for four storeys and slate tiles spilled across the high gabled and hipped rooves—making even Faol Hall look like a cosy cottage—all adding to the illusion of grandeur. Every member of the Kincaid family had been educated here. But Derek’s memories were far from fond.

  He took a breath, readying himself, and turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared into action, and Derek drove the car up to the gates. He leaned out of the window and jabbed his thumb into the buzzer. He was kept waiting for so long, he was about to press it again when a voice crackled through the speaker. “Can I help you?” a woman asked snippily—probably the receptionist.

  “Derek Kincaid here. I’m here to pick up Ben and Michael Kincaid.”

  There was a pause. Then came a loud buzz and the gates swept back, allowing him to enter the fortress. He pulled into a parking space and got out of the car. For a moment, he simply stood and took it all in; not much had changed in the seventeen years since he’d left.

  He jogged up the steps to the reception area and pushed open the heavy door. The dark parquet floors, the high wood-panelled walls reaching up to a beamed ceiling, the long, sweeping desk with a small woman behind it, typing into a prehistoric computer–it was all exactly the same. He was sure it was even the same Yucca plant sat in the corner collecting dust. The lack of security within the walls left him less than impressed, and he made a mental note to report back to Alistair with his concerns.

  “Hi.” He flashed the receptionist a warm smile, one she didn’t return. Instead, she contemplated him with steely eyes and a frown. Derek cleared his throat. “Derek Kincaid—”

  She shoved a clipboard towards him. “Fill these out. You can sit there.” She gestured to a handful of low-seated, oxblood leather chairs. He looked over the papers on the clipboard. With a sigh, he took a ballpoint pen from the pot on the desk, walked to the chairs, and sat.

  They were as uncomfortable as they looked. Derek fidgeted. He filled in the bits of the forms he could, then signed to say he was the guardian of Ben and Michael Kincaid. When he was finished, he returned to the desk and handed the clipboard to the receptionist.

  She clucked her tongue. “It’s an inconvenience, you realise,” she said, picking up the receiver of the corded telephone. “Half-term is in a couple of weeks.” She used a pen to punch in the extension number she required. “It’s the children who miss out. It’s not good for them to be disrupted like this. Their education will be affected, and it’s not school policy to release them to someone who isn’t listed as their legal guardian. Really, it should be Mr. or Mrs. Kincaid collecting them.”

  “I’m sure Mr. Kincaid has explained the circumstances and recompensed the school for any trouble caused.”

  The receptionist bristled. “It’s ill-timed, and this is the only occasion it wil
l be allowed,” she said pointedly.

  “I’ll be sure to tell their parents to plan the next family emergency,” Derek replied, resisting the urge to wrap the twisted phone cord around her throat. Bloody witches. Always thinking they’re better than us. “Now, if you don’t mind, we have a flight to catch.” He tapped at the face of his watch.

  “Hmm…” She narrowed her eyes at him, then held the phone receiver to her ear. “Mr. Derek Kincaid is here to collect Ben and Michael. Thank you.” She hung up the phone and spoke to Derek. “They will be down shortly. I hope Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid realise they will still be charged for the full term.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  “For you, perhaps,” she muttered under her breath, but just loud enough for Derek to hear. She went back to her computer.

  “Uncle Drake!” Ben burst through a set of double doors, followed by his brother and a young woman wheeling a suitcase. He scurried over, wrapped his arms around Derek’s thighs and squeezed tight. Michael moped through, trailing another suitcase behind him.

  “Hey, pups,” Derek said, his dark-blue stare fixed on his eldest nephew. “You’ve both shot up.”

  “Perhaps if we saw you more often it wouldn’t be so noticeable,” Michael snapped. “Come on, Ben.” He headed for the main door, still dragging the suitcase behind him.

  “Derek Kincaid.” He thrust his hand out for the young woman who’d accompanied his nephews to shake. She was pretty in an English Rose kind of way, with pale skin, bright green eyes, and strawberry-blonde curls pinned away from her face. She stirred something deep within him, something he hadn’t felt for a long time. A lanyard hung around her neck with her name and a pen attached to it.

  “Martha Whiting. I’m Benjamin’s teacher.” She passed him the handle of Ben’s suitcase. “Have a lovely time with your family, Benji.” She ruffled the boy’s hair and handed him a blue backpack with the Little Wickham insignia embroidered on the front.