by Brenna Lyons
“Scott?”
He looked up, scowling again. “You call these sacred weapons. That’s what it said, that I was without my sacred weapon. It’s also what my mother called that toy.”
“It’s the only thing that can kill them,” Matt explained.
“Well, that’s information I could have used,” he commented wryly. “No wonder I couldn’t kill it.” Scott looked him up and down, seemingly considering something. “I guess there are some things I need you to teach me.”
Matt nearly crowed in joy. “We’ll pack you up and get you home to Armen range. I’m sure your brothers are already dying to meet you, and—”
Scott’s hand fisted tight around the hilt of the sacred weapon. “Let’s get this straight, Matt. I don’t have a home, and I don’t have brothers. I agreed to let you train me, because one way or the other, my life depends on knowing how to perform this damned duty of killing off beasts before they—or your family—kill me off.”
Matt sighed. “You’re an Armen, whether you acknowledge it or not.”
“My name,” he growled, “is Scott Danvers.”
The urge to shake him was fierce. Matt forced it down, nearly growling in restraint. “You’ll find that family is in your blood, Scott. Just as I can’t ignore your existence, you can’t ignore ours forever. For now, I’ll train you.”
Scott didn’t answer that.
“How long will it take you to be ready to relocate?” he asked, changing the subject.
“A day or two. I don’t have much, and bouncers are a nomadic lot, so quitting my job isn’t that big a deal.”
“Good. I’ll make a few arrangements and be back for lunch.”
He nodded.
Matt headed for the door, the arrangements that would need made coursing through his mind. Scott would need a small truck to transport his belongings, rooms—and a lot of space to himself.
An image of him reacting violently to attempts to welcome him filled Matt’s mind. Until he was certain Scott was stable, he’d have to keep Sarah at a distance. His big-hearted wife thought a loving embrace was the answer to all of life’s problems, and Scott was certain to balk at that. The training house would be the best place to take him—for now.
His hand was on the door when he heard the muttered comment behind him.
“Big deal. Family sucks.”
* * * *
JFK International Airport
“Kates? Earth to Katie König-Maher,” her twin brother Corwyn, affectionately known as Bear, teased.
She looked up, managing a weak smile.
Her brother dropped into the seat next to her. “If you don’t want to do this...” He let it hang between them, the offer to just head home and not look for a mate for her right now.
“No. I want to do this. I have to, really.”
“But?”
“I don’t know. I keep feeling like something’s wrong, but I don’t know what.”
He looked around, on alert for any threat. “What is it that you feel?”
“I can’t explain it. Like...I shouldn’t be here, but where I should be, I don’t know.” She laughed nervously. “That doesn’t make much sense, I know.”
“I can call Mom,” he offered.
“No! Oh, please, don’t do that. The last thing I need is her thinking I’ve really lost it.”
Bear wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “Why would she think that?”
“I’m a mess, Bear. After my arguments that it was time to find my mate and all the arrangements for me to tour the ranges... Now, I feel like I shouldn’t go, but the drive is still there. I think I’ve gone insane. Why wouldn’t she?”
“Do you think it’s cold feet?” he asked seriously.
“I guess so. Funny, huh? Me scared of a man I could probably slice and dice?”
“It will be okay,” he soothed her. “They always say it’s biology for us. When you meet the right one, it will all work out.”
Katie closed her eyes, too tired to sleep. “I hope you’re right.”
Chapter Twenty-five
October 30, 2049
“I don’t understand it,” Katie complained. “I’ve met every Warrior in the world and zilch.” She flopped down on the leather sofa in Cross manor and sighed, the urgency to find her mate eating at her as it had for the past four months.
“Maybe you’re not ready yet,” Bear suggested, trying to hide a smirk.
She shot him a look of warning. “Maybe I should gut you for that comment.”
He chuckled, his eyes challenging her. “Whatever the Blutjagdfrau wishes.”
Their Uncle Hunter laughed heartily. “She’s ready.”
Mikel smiled, raising his wife’s hand to kiss it. “Yes. She most certainly is.”
“But, I’ve met every Warrior,” she repeated. “What the hell does the Stone want from me?”
“Well,” her father began. “Actually...” He grimaced as if he found something highly distasteful.
The tension in the room kicked up several notches.
Katie shivered in response to the near-Blutjagd, laughing nervously. “What? You’re not suggesting that I look for a human man, are you? I mean... Blutjagdfrau never go to bars trolling for...”
No one spoke, and several of the men shifted uneasily.
“What?” she demanded, reacting to their discomfort. She looked at Bear, but he seemed as confused as she was.
Hunter cleared his throat. “There...uh...there’s actually one Warrior you haven’t met yet.”
“That’s impossible. Every house I’m not closely related to trotted out every eligible Warrior. How could I miss one?”
Erin, her mother, rolled her eyes. “Men! After my mother, it amazes me that you are all so squeamish about this.”
“That’s different,” Curt snapped, an uncharacteristic response to his mate that made Katie gasp at her father in surprise. “And, I hardly want my daughter marrying the James Dean of the Warrior world.”
“It’s hardly your choice,” Erin countered smoothly. “It’s his and Katie’s. Or to be more precise, it’s the Stone’s will coming to fruition in them.”
Mikel rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “He’s not as bad as people make him out to be,” he stated confidently. “I went to meet him pretty early on, when he was still circling everyone who approached him.”
“I don’t understand,” Katie managed. “Who is this Warrior, and what does Grandma Jayde have to do with it?”
“Scott Armen,” Curt grumbled.
“Danvers,” Mikel corrected him. “His name is Scott Danvers.”
Hunter muttered a series of curses in German. “He’s still using that? Damn! Matt must be going insane.”
“Dad?” Katie asked, swinging her gaze from her uncle to her father in confusion. “Why would a Warrior use an assumed name?”
Her mother cut in. “Because it’s not an assumed name. Scott was the son of a rather overzealous blade chaser. She wanted a child, and she never told his father that Scott existed. Your uncle Adam found him, quite by accident, in his range.”
“Oh, dear gods. How old is he?”
“Almost twenty-four.” Erin smiled. “Just like your grandmother was.”
A chill ran up Katie’s spine. She tried to imagine what a trauma like that would do to a Warrior, but she kept coming back to Jayde, never comfortable in her life in their world, dying only days after her mate, unable to cope without him. Talon had been her only anchor, and without him, it was too much for her to bear.
“Katie,” her father began.
“I want to meet him.” I have to meet him. No wonder I didn’t want to leave the country. I knew I was headed the wrong direction. He’s needed me, and I haven’t been there. She met her father’s stricken look. “How soon can I get to Armen?”
Curt sighed. “Are you sure you won’t wait—just for a bit, until he’s more acclimated?”
“No. I really think... I know I have to go.”
/> He nodded, grimacing. “As soon as you need to. You know that.”
* * * *
October 31st, 2049
“König,” Tyler called out, clasping Bear’s hand then raising Katie’s to kiss her knuckles.
She straightened her waist-length leather jacket and cast her eyes about for a Warrior she hadn’t met yet. Her heart sank when she encountered only Jordan and a few children.
Tyler looked around, then back, his smile faltering. “Is there a reason for this visit?” He was understandably concerned. After all, an unannounced visit by Königs was usually bad news.
Bear took over for her. “Can we talk in private?”
“Of course. Matt’s in my office. Let’s use the library.” He led the way to the far door, stopping three steps into the room. “Oh, Scott. I didn’t know you were in here. I need this room for a while. Can you study in your room or the den?”
“Sure. No problem.”
Katie eased to one side, biting her lower lip at the sight of a broad back covered in a snug Navy blue t-shirt and a tight jean-covered backside. His hair was clipped thick but close in the back and spiked on top, tipped in blonde. He put one book back on the shelf and pulled another off, drawing her attention to the Celtic knotwork designs on his upper arms.
Scott turned with several of the ancient texts balanced on his left forearm. He looked up, his eyes locking with hers. He went still, his expression questioning. She smiled, but Scott didn’t return it. He simply stared as if Katie confused him somehow.
Tyler cleared his throat. “Scott, these are our guests, Corwyn König-Maher and his sister—”
“The Blutjagdfrau,” Scott noted. “Yes, I’ve heard of her.” He exited the room without a backward glance, giving her a wide berth.
Katie watched him go, wondering at his strange reserve. When he’d turned, she’d felt certain something momentous was about to happen, but he didn’t let it. Scott Danvers was an intriguing man, and she wasn’t about to let him walk away that simply.
“Kaitlyn?” Tyler asked, using her legal name as everyone but her extensive family did. “Is something wrong?”
“No. I don’t think so,” she replied absently.
“I apologize for Scott’s behavior. I’ll speak to him about—”
“Why the apology?”
“He’s not very personable, I know.”
She nodded. “That’s understandable.”
“Are we leaving now?” Bear asked, a touch of anger in his tone.
“No. We’re not,” she informed him.
He groaned. “You are kidding. Please, for the love of Dobler and Jee, tell me you’re kidding.”
“I’ve never been more serious.”
“Maybe you should explain,” Tyler suggested. “I don’t understand what’s going on here, and as lord of this range, that is a little disconcerting.”
Katie turned to him, smiling widely. “It’s very simple, Lord Armen. There is one young Warrior I haven’t gotten to know yet. Just one, in the entire world. I intend to correct that oversight.”
He paled. “Perhaps, I should instruct—”
“No.” She put the bark of an order in her response. “I forbid you to scare him into some unnatural response.”
“He’s still learning the rules of sanction,” he warned.
“I’ll keep that in mind and try not to take offense.”
Tyler winced. “He’s likely to offend. I’ll be honest. He’s likely to try to offend you, given the chance.”
“I want his honest response, Lord Armen. If the Stone doesn’t intend this, She doesn’t.”
“As you wish.”
* * * *
Scott stopped walking, hopefully lost amidst the people milling about and taking their seats for the meal. He glanced at the Blutjagdfrau over the top of his book, then down at the page again, turning it though he wasn’t done with the one before. He moved on, feigning ignorance of her presence.
“Scott,” Matt called, a note of warning in his voice. “Dinner?”
How fatherly of the old man to be concerned. Tough shit. “Not hungry, Matt,” he lied. In truth, he was famished, but the idea of staring into the König princess’s bright blue eyes while he ate made his stomach squirm uncomfortably.
There was no question that he’d be looking at her. There was something mesmerizing in those eyes. Or, maybe he was just getting sick of brown-eyed carbon-copy Warriors. The tight, black jean number she was wearing was certainly like nothing he’d ever seen before.
He glanced toward the end of the table as he took another step, then down again. Tevin, the older of his ‘younger brothers,’ was preened to sickening perfection. Though there were four young Warriors—counting Jordan, who wasn’t really young but still eligible—she could take to “mate” in Armen range, Tevin seemed convinced that she’d returned for him. In fact, all of them seemed convinced that was her aim, though they’d called Tom in from a track just to be certain her chosen was on hand.
Whichever one the princess wanted, Scott didn’t intend to stand by and watch it happen. All of them, from Jordan to Tevin, were jerks in his opinion. Well, maybe not Antony, but Antony was pretty clueless and immature...and only seventeen, not a good match for the twenty-year-old Blutjagdfrau.
“Sit, Scott,” Tyler commanded. “We have guests, remember?”
The Lord of the manor commands, he noted with a slight quickening of his pulse. Scott sighed, considering storming off in a show of defiance, but he loathed the idea of acting like a child. Instead, he turned and took his seat at his ‘father’s’ right hand, setting the book beside his plate, staring at it, though he didn’t see the words.
“Enough, Scott,” Matt grumbled, closing The Stone’s Words and taking it off the table.
Scott ground his teeth; there was no choice now but to play nice with the princes of their precious race. He looked up, intent on locking his eyes with Antony and keeping them there as long as possible, but it wasn’t his youngest ‘brother’s’ eyes across from him tonight but rather a startling blue in a smiling female face.
“You’re very dedicated, Mr. Danvers,” she commented.
Matt tensed at her use of his name, and several of the Warriors fought back low levels of Blutjagd.
Scott fought to keep a straight face. It was unusual to find someone who could get an entire room pissed off as quickly as he could, but the princess had it nailed. If there was a list of things that ticked off the Armens, his refusal of their name was in the top three, which was half the reason Scott still used it. He was born Danvers, and he’d go to his grave Danvers.
“It’s the rule of the house—and I like learning.” The more he knew, the sooner he could escape this house and roam as far as he would be permitted to go. “It always pays to know your enemies. Don’t you think so?”
Tyler rolled his eyes skyward and seemed to be counting to a hundred as his mother often had. Scott noted the response in satisfaction. Apparently, his ‘grandfather’ didn’t want to make a scene in front of the visiting royalty.
“And your adversaries,” she commented, sipping the wine set beside her plate.
His smile faltered. “Is there a difference?”
“Of course. Enemies will cut your heart out. Adversaries want much less.”
His humor fled, and memories of the morning he met his ‘family’ filled his mind. The threat had been stated clearly enough for even a hard-headed loner like Scott to get the picture. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have any adversaries.”
“Scott—” Matt began in warning.
“No,” the princess ordered.
Several Warriors who’d begun talking fell silent at once, including Tyler. Scott marveled at the way they bent to her commands, perhaps even more than they did with her father, and he was ‘The Lord of All Houses.’
She wasn’t smiling now. Scott couldn’t have named the expression on her face. It wasn’t one he’d seen often enough to readily identify. It wasn’t pity like the Warri
or wives sent his way so often or curiosity like the children displayed. It wasn’t fury like Jordan and Tevin were usually mired in. It wasn’t the exasperation on Tyler and Matt’s faces. Whatever it was, it seemed open and honest. Scott wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“Go on,” she invited. “I get the feeling this is something no one lets you talk about.”
It wasn’t, but it also wasn’t something he intended to discuss with her, especially with Tevin and the rest listening in. “There’s nothing to talk about. Between the rules of sanction and penalties... Well, you know them.”
“Yes, I do. I imagine the idea of killing your own family for breaking them seems harsh to you.”
“And, I know I don’t need a shrink, especially not if that shrink is you.”
The table erupted in sound and motion. Scott’s eyes narrowed as her brother fisted his sacred weapon. The Blutjagdfrau silenced them all with a wave of her hand; Corwyn even released his blade though he placed his fists on the table in silent warning.
“If I was offended,” she announced, “I would have challenged Scott myself. I fight my own battles, as did my mother and grandmother before me. Now... I believe I’d like to discuss this further with you, Mr. Danvers. Perhaps, after dinner?”
Scott pushed away from the table and stood. “Sorry, Princess. Not in my job description.” He turned and strode for the kitchen door.
“You are bound to obey König,” Jordan shouted after him.
“Lord and Lady König,” he retorted, biting back laughter. “Last time I checked, she was still a generation off that title.” He smiled all the way to the garage. At least, knowing their laws meant that he knew what they had the right to demand—and what they didn’t.
* * * *
“May I apologize,” Tevin began smoothly, making her skin crawl with his oily approach.
Katie managed not to snarl at him, though his voice made her want to rake her nails down his throat. “It isn’t your apology to offer.”
Several Warriors and their wives started speaking at once.