Then Marcus was there, their leader. He looked from one to the other of them, instant understanding riding his face with certainty, their unity a thing that sizzled in the air all around them.
“Soulmates!” he extolled.
Julia looked from the leader and obvious father of the family who surrounded her as she leaned weakly against Brendan's chest, her back pressed against his warmth and comfort, her eyes fixed on Scott's.
His were filled with anger and hate.
Directed at her.
They couldn't be soul-anything. It was obvious Julia wasn't someone he wanted, respected... liked.
She tore herself out of Brendan's arms and ran inside the house. Taking the steps two at a time she rushed into the bedroom they'd given her and slammed the door, using the old-fashioned skeleton key to lock it. She backed away until her thighs pressed against the bed. Julia sunk down into the mattress, the firmness of it a temporary cradle to her sadness.
Could things get any more screwed up if she'd wished for it? She put her face in her hands and cried while off in the distance she heard a sound.
A howl.
*
Singers
“Tell me,” Marcus said, his eyes like slits on his grown children. “And it better be good.”
Everyone began talking at once. Finally Michael took the conversational reins, “Brendan came back with news of a Singer turned Were...”
“What?!” Marcus roared, his eyes casting a wide net at the surrounding area.
Brendan shook his head. “It's in the woods for now. But... it will find its way here. Soon.”
“Male?” Marcus queried.
They nodded. Marcus looked at Scott. “I understand your sentiments about the Queen. That you've never adjusted to the idea of it.”
Jen rolled her eyes. “Adjusted, Dad? Try anarchy! That'd be more like it.” She looked at her oldest brother. So sure of himself, nothing ever bothered him. He fought with a skill unmatched by any other Singer in their quadrant. He was the number one Deflector of their band of Singers, but one female Singer came to them, the queen and he'd lost his status of independence. That's what a soul-meld would do. The irony wasn't lost on Jen. She felt a little sorry for Scott. It would suck hating his soulmate but being bonded to her anyway. And Julia impressed Jen as independent. She felt a smile curl her lips.
“And now I'm bound to her!” Scott roared, his lip curling with distaste.
Above them, Julia listened from the window that was ajar. It was fine that Scott didn't want her. He was stubborn and... mean and ugh! Julia didn't even like him! She'd do better on her own. She felt confident enough with her telekinetic ability to get by.
Julia didn't want to be queen. And she didn't care if there was some “soul-meld” or whatever. She couldn't get out of being a Blood Singer. Or a Rare One. But she didn't have to be here. In this place, with someone that hated her.
She looked around her room. A profound melancholy slipped through her, her being still tingling from the encounter with Scott. Julia shoved away how painfully right it had felt to be in his arms for that one moment.
He hated her anyway so it didn't matter.
Julia grabbed the only coat in the room and slipped out quietly, heading down the staircase that exited the back of the house. It had once been a little-used servant's staircase. She used it now in circumspection.
She utterly missed the most important part of the conversation.
If she had, she may have hesitated.
As it was, Julia was heading into the arms of danger.
Marcus looked at his eldest son and sighed. Scott had excelled at everything, his training, his ability, his... conquests. But his stubbornness was his biggest flaw. He had fought long and hard to let the legend of the Queen of the Blood Singers die a natural death. She did not exist, he'd argued, it was only legend. But Marcus remembered the reverent way that his father had discussed her Coming. He knew that Julia was the queen.
If her scent was not sufficient confirmation, she had the mark of the moon branded on her forehead, as foretold. The pearly crescent shone at her temple, a testimony to her position amongst them.
Scott could deny it until he was blue in the face. But Brendan was one of their finest Trackers.
His nose never lied.
Then there was the soul-meld. His eye's met his son's. Only Singers of royal blood could soul-meld. It was a double confirmation.
“Hate her if you will. But remember this,” and he spoke to all of them but directed his words at Scott, “she has been through many traumas. We don't know what... or how many. What did she tell you?”
Jen told him what Julia had said to Scott.
Marcus threw up his hands. “So what we have here is a Singer who lost a husband...”
“Infant bride-much,” Michael muttered and Marcus' brow cocked.
“Nothing,” Michael expounded but was terrible at hiding a smile.
“And, she was held by both factions: Were and vampire?” When he looked for confirmation Brendan nodded.
“Then,” he began to pace the wooden planks of the covered deck and some squeaked with age as he passed, “she is kidnapped by her own people, told she is queen, then treated abominably by my eldest son.”
“Twice,” Marcus said, looking at Scott who glowered back, the barest hint of shame creeping into his expression.
Scott folded his muscular arms across a chest that proved his time on the mat. “Okay, I guess I could have handled it better,” Scott said, still trying to stop his guts from churning. His entire body yearning to get back to her. He hated it, the loss of his independence as he saw it.
“Ah... duh!” Jen said. He glanced at her and she continued. “Unless anyone objects, I suggest you get your dumbass up there and apologize!”
Marcus scowled at his daughter's use of language but let it go. From all accounts, Scott had behaved badly. And to a female Singer! The Queen, no less. It could hardly have been worse.
He nodded and Scott said, “I hate feeling trapped. She made me feel...”
“Complete?” Brendan asked with just a hint of envy. Why couldn't it have been him? He'd have been happier than a pig in shit to have Julia. Hello? The Queen of the Singers... his soulmate? Yeah, kind of a nice gig.
Scott thought about it. Yeah, he guessed she had; but she'd blind-sided him. He'd been totally, no... completely unprepared for a soul-meld. But dammit, he had reveled in his independence, refused to go on the wild goose chase of an acquisition for another Singer. Let his hot dog brothers and sister do it.
And look what the cat had dragged home.
He looked up at the window of her bedroom, feeling miserable. How could he fix it? Did he want to? He realized belatedly he may have misjudged her. Badly. Scott remembered those huge amber eyes looking up at him in anger... wounded by his careless words. He'd fallen right into them, as soon as she was inside the circle of his arms, he couldn't think of anything but her. And the protection of her. He sighed and began to walk toward the front door.
“Wait,” Marcus said and Scott turned, a question on his face.
“She needs extra protection from this Were.”
His children turned to him. When he had their full attention, he resumed, “You understand how dangerous a turned Singer is. The Queen will be like a homing beacon.”
Brendan nodded, understanding. “He'll be a problem, alright.”
Scott's heart began to speed, his intuition kicking online. Already his thoughts were on Julia. Where was she at this very moment? He was instantly pissed that he gave a rat's ass. He felt like his mind was tearing in two. His intellect rebelled against what his soul was compelled to execute... feel.
Julia, it screamed. Where is Julia? Scott shook his head to clear it from the fuzziness of the duality of his nature.
“Why?” Scott heard himself asking despite himself.
Michael hadn't paid attention to this part of his training and shrugged but Jen had been an apt pupil like Brendan
and she said, “It breaks the mind of a Singer turned. His mind is gone. He'd want to belong with us, but wouldn't know how...”
“He'd hurt Julia if he got his hands on her,” Brendan said. “Those Singers that have been turned are crazy-as-hell.”
Marcus wanted to refute that but knew he couldn't. As descriptions go, it was a good one.
Scott's hand clenched the solid brass knob of the screen door and it creaked in protest under his abusive grip. “So... let me get this straight, this... feral werewolf was once a Singer, got nailed by a Were attack and is now scenting after Julia.”
“Yeah,” Brendan said.
Scott scoffed, “Let it try. I'll rip its paws off and scratch his own ass with them!”
Michael laughed. He might be able to do it. Scott was the strongest male Singer in their group. He got a visual and Scott's eyes narrowed on him.
“What's so damn funny?” Scott asked.
“A couple of things, I'm guessing,” Brendan said.
“Enlighten us, please,” Marcus said in his droll way.
“First,” Brendan held up a finger, “Scott didn't give two shits and an eff about Julia, hated her as a matter of fact.” Brendan waited for a dissenting comment or grunt. When none came, he continued, “Second, the visual of you tearing off the Were's paw that we saw at the compound, and scratching its...” Brendan shook his head. “No pal, sorry. He's big-time feral in his pants.”
“And just big time?!” Jen agreed, adding, “he's the biggest Were we've ever seen... red, different.”
Scott frowned like, so?
“In other words, it may take more than your pissed off attitude to subdue this fella!” Michael agreed with his siblings.
“Ah!” Marcus began and they all looked at him. “That's where you're wrong...” he had them again and said slowly, “when a soulmate's partner is threatened, there may be more in the arsenal than what the Singer was bestowed with at birth.”
Scott's hand dropped from the knob. “What do you mean, Dad?”
“I mean that it is your singular purpose to protect and nurture her.” Marcus' eyes speared Scott's. “She is in the gravest danger right now, the most vulnerable. Until this feral is caught and disposed of, he will not stop until he has her.”
“Will he kill her?” Jen asked.
“I do not know. But, ask yourself this,” they leaned forward to hear his last words, “does anyone want to find out?”
Hell no! A primal yell sounded from deep within Scott and against every intellectual imperative his feet strode through the doorway and flung him up the stairs toward her room.
Toward Julia.
Julia threw branches away as they scraped past her, crashing through the brush that threatened to stab her viciously. She was furious. The more she walked the angrier she became.
It was useless though. Being angry didn't matter, letting go of the Singers and what she was, did. Every step she took was a greater distance between she and Scott and in her mind she was happy.
But her heart grieved. She felt a little like she had after Jason died. But how could that be? She didn't even know Scott! In fact, he'd made a point of being an ass!
Julia rounded the bend of a stand of trees, having utterly forgotten the one that sought her when she stopped in her tracks. A massive Were stood in front of her, his green eyes pegging her intensely. She hauled in a lungful of air to scream and he was on her, his hand that had talons twice the length of her fingers wrapping her mouth and tickling her ears.
Julia's vision grew dim, her fear making her bladder burn for release. As her world faded to gray the last thing she saw were those emerald eyes staring at her.
Julia lost consciousness and the feral pressed her light body to his. He turned, covering more ground than she could have on her own, his half-wolf form perfectly suited to the dense conditions of the forest.
He ran, the burden of the female an abiding comfort. It was the only instance he had felt a sense of peace since he Became.
Whatever he was now.
CHAPTER 29
Scott put his hand on the multi-faceted knob, the crystal a solid weight under his palm and turned it. The five panel door swung inward, the momentum of it carried by its own weight. His eyes swept the sunlit room, missing nothing.
Julia was gone.
His heart thudded to a stop, the words he'd spoken crashing back with the weight of the ages into his mind. His eyes found the flaw in the room.
The window was open a crack, maybe two inches. The white curtains, like billowing fingers of smoke, fluttered with the breeze allowed in by the opening.
He walked to the window, his siblings entering Julia's room behind him. He stood at the window, the low sill pressing against his upper shins. Scott could clearly hear the voices of various people from a distance, the strange acoustics of the oddly formed bay accentuating the noises.
Amplifying them.
Julia would have heard everything he had to say about her down below.
His disinterest.
His hate and disrespect.
Scott hung his head, clenching his hands into tight fists. He understood now that she would have left before he had wrestled his emotions into some kind of basic order, prepared to right his wrong, give her some neutral deference.
Now she was gone. Possibly in danger.
Grave danger.
Scott turned, his back to the window. He spied something of hers and picked it up. It was a hoodie. He crushed it to his nose, inhaling the scent of Julia, his chest tightening with recognition.
Soul recognition.
His deep brown eyes flashed to those of his siblings and father.
“She's gone,” he said. Guilt rode him mercilessly.
“Great,” Jen said.
“You pushed her away,” Brendan accused.
“Ya think?” Scott replied. His eyes were twin holes of burning fury. At himself. “I screwed up, I got that. But now's not the time for talk,” he speared his brother with a look. “Can you find her?”
“Absolutely,” Brendan said. Then paused for a heartbeat. “The better question is, has he found her?”
They were all quiet for a moment then with silent agreement, they turned and rushed out the door. Julia's hoodie was gripped in Scott's fist like a lifeline. He had never been so focused in his life. He needed to find her. All the bullshit legends of his childhood that he'd discounted, Singer Royalty, soul-melding, all of it... was no longer legend.
It was his new reality.
They ran down the back stairs, the very ones Julia had used but a mere hour before. Bursting out of the back door, Brendan tracked Julia to the forest's edge. His grave stare focused on Scott.
“What?” he asked. For the first time, terror sunk its teeth into his psyche. Scott had never had need of fear; it was an alien emotion for him.
Until now.
“The feral's in these woods,” Brendan said, using the very words that Scott had not wanted to hear.
“Does he... has he...” Scott asked, his grip on Julia's sweatshirt making his knuckles turn white.
Brendan nodded, once.
Scott yelled, his rage-filled bellow heard by the sensitive ears of the feral who swiftly widened the breach between the Singers and himself.
The feral picked up his pace, the girl in his arms unaware of who carried her.
Or who followed.
****
Were
Adriana felt like her ass had been handed to her. As usual. She always felt that way when she got done “visiting” with Lawrence. She kicked a rock on the way out of his chamber. Which wasn't really accurate. His quarters, as she preferred to think of them, were huge, she'd never been in his actual bedroom. They always met in his cavernous library, his great desk a mighty wooden anchor in the center of a sea of books. She always felt like her ship was sinking.
Like now.
He'd reamed her up one side and down the other. Tony had come up smelling like a rose... like always. In fa
ct, she wanted to kick his ass too, the list was growing. It really rubbed Adi the wrong way that she was every bit the fighter he was but when it came down to talon to talon, he'd best her. Her fists clenched. She had twice the heart that he had. But he was just that much bigger than she. If skill and training were equal, someone with all those pounds and muscle would be victor. It was the opposite of fair.
Sometimes she hated being female. Adi liked the one thing she had over him though.
Ironically, it was her gender.
He was destined to mate with a female Were. He was second to her brother, Joseph, the most powerful Alpha in their region. Because of his station within the werewolf hierarchy, she should have looked at Tony as top on the list of potentials. That's how he'd looked at her until she made it clear he was a Loser with a capital L. Now, his choices were limited. But Tony didn't really want a mate. No, he wanted a female Were trophy, squiring her about under the snouts of all the other male Were that couldn't be mated to a female Were. There were too few. She smiled.
Adi enjoyed bristling his fur with that every chance she got. He was so full of himself. Like today. He'd painted his role in the escape of the feral in such a way it made it sound like she'd been irresponsible. Not the truth. That he'd put off a difficult chore on a female at the worst point of the month? The feral had showed her a kind of mercy. Tearing her shoulder out of its socket yet not killing her. Not so crazy after all.
Then there was the other question about the feral.
Who was he? Really?
Why the interest in the Rare One? Because no one could convince Adi differently, if he'd wished for escape earlier he could have. No. He'd wanted Jules. She'd stake her life on it.
Tony followed her out with a smirk, whistling.
The asshole.
Then Joseph came, casting a look her way. She waited and he walked over to her. “You know, if you'd be a little...” he rolled his eyes skyward, searching for the perfect word, “softer with Tony, he'd cut you some slack.” Her brother shrugged.
“No,” she responded shortly. “He can kiss my ass!” Adriana said, folding her arms across her chest. “I'll never suck up to him. Besides,” she looked at her brother again, “did ya see how he made me look in there to Lawrence? He never does or says the right thing. Every verbal angle he plays is uttered for his benefit, never anyone else but his own.” Couldn't Joseph see that?
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