by T. S. Joyce
BLACKWING BEAST
(KANE’S MOUNTAINS, BOOK 3)
By T. S. JOYCE
Blackwing Beast
Copyright © 2016 by T. S. Joyce
Copyright © 2016, T. S. Joyce
First electronic publication: October 2016
T. S. Joyce
www.tsjoyce.com
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Published in the United States of America.
Cover Image: Furious Fotog
Cover Model: Tyler Halligan
Contents
Copyright
Other Books in this Series
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
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Other Books in this Series
Blackwing Defender (Book 1)
Blackwing Wolf (Book 2)
Chapter One
Kiera Pierce’s heart was hammering so hard against her sternum, she was sure the shifters across the room would hear her.
Danny’s BBQ was hopping today, which was irritating because people kept walking through her line of sight, blocking out the Blackwing Crew. She liked being able see them at all times. Survivors kept their eyes on danger.
God, it was good to see Kane again. Good and emotional. And then hard and good again, on an endless loop. She’d known him very well once in a facility called Apex Genetic Testing. They’d both lost everything there, but Kane hadn’t stayed down—not like her. Kane had found his dragon again.
Kiera, on the other hand, was stuck in a spiral, like a helicopter that had been clipped in the air and was crashing to earth in an uncontrolled tailspin. She was close to impact, and desperation said that Dark Kane and his crew of monsters might be her last chance to keep her sanity.
She’d done her research before she began her steady stalk of Kane a month ago.
Registered to his crew: Winter Donovan, black panther shifter, grew up in the city so she was probably all kinds of fucked up. Killed her own dad trying to Turn him. Claimed by a panther in Red Havoc who didn’t keep her, then landed in Kane’s crew a few months ago with her new mate, Logan.
Logan Furrow: Grade-A psychopath. He was an arsenic-laced jagged pill. Former mercenary whose job was to put down problem shifters, so his bear was no doubt broken beyond repair. And Winter was sporting one gnarly bear claw claiming mark across her arm. Oh, she must be proud enough since she was wearing a tank top in the middle of winter, but it looked brutal. It was the worst claiming mark Kiera had ever seen, and by a lot.
Dustin Porter: Former submissive werewolf in the Valdoro pack. The entire pack, including his brother, were burned and turned to ashes. The dick weevils probably deserved it. God, she hated werewolves. Dustin had betrayed his pack to join the Blackwings. Right now, he looked riled up, one eye glowing blue, the other green, his lip snarled as he popped off to Logan, who also looked way too bloodthirsty for her taste. The idiots were probably going to fight right here in front of all these humans. They had brawled at nearly every place she’d stalked them.
Emma Porter, new Bride of Frankenwolf, formerly human, raised in a freaking coven of vampires, Turned a few months ago when the Blackwings went to war with not one, but three packs. Hearing impaired in her human form, but that didn’t seem to slow her at all. She was sitting right in the middle of the crew, holding her own, popping off, reading lips like a champ. Tiny foul-mouthed hellion and, from what Kiera could tell, a good match for her mate, who was now standing with his arms locked on the table as he yelled at Logan about how, “I’m not sharing my jalapeño sausages with you ever again!” He could’ve been making a dick joke, Kiera couldn’t tell. He made a lot of them.
Last but not least, the dragons themselves. Kane Reeves, aka the End of Days, aka Dark Kane, aka The Darkness, aka The Motherfuckin’ Apocalypse. Geez, just from that list of names, she would’ve tucked tail and run, except she’d known him once. He’d been soft-spoken, protective, and kind—at least when his dragon wasn’t trying to burn down the facility with everyone in it, including her. He probably wouldn’t even recognize her now. The years had changed her infinitely.
Rowan Barnett rounded out the crew. Second in the Blackwings, proud mate of Dark Kane, sweet, but she was no pushover. She was equally dangerous but had better control. Kiera could tell from her calm demeanor. Currently, Kane looked like he was about to throttle Logan and Dustin, who were arguing even louder. Something about the best flavor of sausage. Dustin had flipped Logan off twice, while Logan had a vein throbbing in his beet-red forehead. Yep, they were definitely going to fight. And what were the girls in the crew doing? Laughing. Way to go Kane. Steller crew you put together.
But wait. A tall man with massive shoulders strode from the counter directly to the table where the Blackwings sat. She’d never seen him before in all the time she’d spent stalking Kane and his merry band of lunatics. There was no one else registered to the crew, but this one was obviously a shifter. Even with her weakened senses, she could feel how heavy his dominance was. It lifted the fine hairs on the back of her neck. She only got his profile as he pulled a chair loudly across the wood floor and spun it backward, then sat, plopping his mountain of barbecue on the table. His face was perfect—beautiful really. Flawless and symmetrical, high cheek bones, eyes large but slightly slanted. Feline perhaps. A short beard, reddish blond, covered his chiseled jaw and moved as he cursed Logan and Dustin out. “Sit down,” he barked out, jamming a finger at Dustin. “This is why I never want to fuckin’ hang out with you. You’re all exhausting.”
“But you love us,” Winter said with a mushy smile.
“Why do you keep saying that?” the man asked, looking pissed.
Kiera cocked her head and studied him. If he was a Blackwing, he hadn’t registered yet. And if that was the case, why not?
He was tall with powerful legs and a short, blond crop of hair on his head. Despite the early January chill, he wore no jacket, only a tight black sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Tattoos covered his hands as he slapped a pound of brisket between two pathetically small slices of bread. He was snarling loud enough that the humans at the table behind him scooted farther down the bench seat away from him.
Surprised, Kiera huffed a soft laugh at t
he looks on their concerned faces. Laughing felt good. She hadn’t done that in… God, when was the last time? She barely recognized the sound coming from herself. It was hard not to find the humor in this effed-up crew of monsters, though, because clearly this muscled-up, pissed-off behemoth was the cherry on top of Kane’s Psychopath Sunday. This crew wouldn’t make it a year without killing each other.
Dustin stabbed Logan in the hand with a fork. Obviously he had a death wish. Winter and Rowan weren’t laughing anymore, but instead pushed against Logan’s chest as he stood. Idiots were gonna make the news again. Kiera lifted the newspaper she’d been hiding behind up higher to cover her smile.
The sexy berserker shook his head as if he’d seen this game too many times and didn’t care to play anymore. He went back to eating, even as Dustin and Logan locked up over the table. Food went flying when the whole thing scooted hard across the floor, but the pretty man only lifted his tray with a tired sigh. And then slowly, he turned his head and looked directly at Kiera.
She was horrified by what she saw. The other side of his face was ruined, scarred with deep, red claw marks that stretched from his hairline to his jaw, missing his eye by mere millimeters. But that wasn’t the most terrifying thing that struck her. This was a two-parter. One, his eyes were the glowing gold of a lion shifter, and two, she recognized him. Beast—the nightmare of her people. Or who her people should’ve been had her own lioness not been stripped from her in Apex.
Terrified, Kiera gasped and jerked the newspaper in front of her face. He’d cut his hair. That’s why she hadn’t recognized him. He used to wear it longer. He used to be the poster boy for the perfect male lion shifter specimen, and then he’d gone insane. He’d gone dangerous. He’d killed his pride.
Fuck. She needed to go. She couldn’t do this. Not if Beast was in this crew. Kiera was in trouble, but not that much. This was like jumping from one boiling hot pot of water into an active volcano. Nope. She stood so fast the bench seat behind her nearly toppled over. When she dropped the newspaper, Beast was there, sitting across the table from her eating as though he’d been there for an hour. “Sit,” he growled.
Oh, she wanted to obey him, which pissed her off. He wasn’t her alpha. She didn’t even have an animal anymore, so this dominance bullshit wasn’t going to work on her. “Fuck you,” she spat out. Then she turned to leave. God, it was hard giving the monster her back. It went against every screaming instinct she had.
“Alana’s Coffee Shop, the Outdoor Center, Drat’s three times, Cork and Bean Bistro, Wanda’s Waffle House, the grocery store for every beer run Kane’s made in the last month, and River’s Edge. Twice.”
Kiera froze. He’d just listed every place she’d watched the Blackwing Crew. Slowly, she turned and dared a look into his hollow, golden eyes.
Beast arched his blond brows and repeated sternly, “Sit.”
She cast a quick, calculating glance at the Blackwings in the back corner. They weren’t fighting anymore. They were staring at her. And Dark Kane wore a frown. If he didn’t recognize her yet, he was going to work it out soon.
Carefully, Kiera sat, placing Beast’s massive shoulders between her and the alpha of the Blackwings. She wasn’t ready to deal with Kane. Maybe she never would be.
“How did you know I was following them?”
“Stalking,” Beast corrected around a bite of brisket sandwich. “Call it what it is, little human with the strange-colored eyes. I like to stalk to. You’ve been fun.”
Shit. She shouldn’t have sat. Beast’s mouth was sexy when he ate. Stop it. It was the hormones talking. He was a murderer. The air was like water, drowning her with each breath she tried to drag into her lungs.
Beast gulped the bite and leaned his elbows on the table with a bang. His blazing eyes tightened at the corners. “Why are you watching the D-Team?”
“The D-Team?” If she hadn’t been terrified, she would’ve laughed. Of course, Kane’s crew was called the D-Team.
Beast cocked his head thoughtfully. “What’s wrong with you? You smell sick, or…something.”
“That’s none of your business, and you won’t have to worry about me trailing your D-Team anymore. I’m leaving tonight.”
His nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled, and his frown deepened. “Probably best. The gig’s up and all. The Blackwings will have your scent memorized now, so stalking won’t work.”
Kiera stood to leave, but he grabbed her hand suddenly. A burst of heat shocked right through his fingertips and jolted up her arm. “Why are you so scared?” he asked.
Right now? There were a dozen different reasons, but none she wanted to admit to this murderer. Kiera yanked her hand out of his grasp and rubbed the tingling skin where he’d touched her.
“Is it because of the scars?” he asked frankly, but he shook his head and answered his own question. “No, it’s not that. You’ve barely looked at them. You’ve stayed right in my eyes. You smell scared, but you hold my gaze. Human instincts warn you I’m dangerous, but then you hold my gaze. No one does that. Why you?”
“Maybe I’m a broken human.”
Beast cocked his head. “Truth.”
I’m scared because I know who you are. The words were right there on her tongue, but uttering them would get her killed by this man. He was hiding in Kane’s Mountains for a reason, and that reason was rivers of blood on his hands. Her death would mean nothing to him. It wouldn’t be a black mark on his soul because it was already dark as pitch.
“Kiera?” Kane asked loudly. He was standing now, his eyes sparking with recognition, and, oh shit, she could not do this. It was way past time to go.
She spun and strode for the door, threw it open, and sprinted for her black El Camino. She’d merely heard her name uttered from her old friend’s lips, and already her heart was shredding to pieces. She should have never come to find Kane. She should’ve just let the past die. Kiera pressed her hand over her fluttering stomach and yanked her driver’s side door open. But before she could get in, the door slammed out of her hands, and the El Camino rocked as Dustin settled into the bed. Beast stood with his giant hand splayed on the door and a snarl in his throat. Someone spun her around and pulled her into a back-breaking hug. Kane smelled just the same.
A sob worked up Kiera’s throat, and she clutched onto his shirt, desperate to push him away and hold him tighter all at once.
“I tried to find you,” Kane rumbled.
She was staining his shirt with her tears. “I didn’t want anyone to find me after… I just needed to be alone,” she whispered in broken words.
“All this time?”
Feeling weak, she shoved off him and wiped her cheeks with her sweater sleeve. Her stomach hurt so bad. A wave of nausea took her, and she retched near the left headlight of her ride. When nothing came out, she squatted down and linked her hands behind her hair.
“Are you sick?” Kane asked.
“Is it an STD?” Dustin asked.
“Leave us,” Kane demanded of the Blackwings, all gathered around them now.
“I don’t like this,” Beast murmured low to Kane. “Something’s wrong with her. I don’t like you this close to her.”
The murderer had protective instincts. That was a surprise. Kiera stood and smoothed her hair back away from her face. A thin sheen of cold sweat had spread across her forehead. She felt like death warmed over, but that was her new normal. “I’m no threat to your alpha.”
“She’s my friend,” Kane murmured.
“From where?” Rowan Barnett asked from behind him. From the compassionate look in her blue eyes, she likely already knew.
Kane sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. Looking so sad, he mumbled, “Apex.”
“Shhhhit,” Beast murmured. He stood ramrod straight, his chest rising and falling too fast. His eyes were so bright it hurt to look at them. “You were a shifter?”
Kiera looked off into the woods near the restaurant. That was nobody’s damn business, and h
ow rude of him for asking.
“What animal?” Beast asked low.
“Beast,” Rowan said softly, sliding her hand over his bicep.
The titan shook her off and asked louder, “What animal, Kiera?”
Her throat was so tight it was hard to get the word out. “Lioness.”
“No,” Beast said, shaking his head in denial. “No! Kane I’m not doing this. She has to go.”
“What?” Kane asked.
“No lions here. None but me.”
“She was stripped of the animal,” Rowan said, anger blasting through her voice like shrapnel.
“Doesn’t matter, it’s too fucking close.” Beast was panicking. Even Kiera could smell it. He was backing up on the gravel lot, pace by stumbling pace. His emotion filled eyes and those pinpoint pupils were trained on her. “Please go,” he choked out. His voice dipped to a ragged whisper. “Please.” And then Beast turned and strode for a bright blue Ford Raptor, got in, slammed the door, and peeled out of the lot, spraying gravel as he went.
“And biggest asshole trophy still goes to Beast,” Dustin said, his work boot propped on the edge of the El Camino bed as he watched the truck disappear down the road. He turned to Kiera, his long, sandy-blond hair whipping in the cold breeze. “You want some sausage?”
“Dustin, really?” Winter asked.
Dustin threw up his hands, feigning innocence. “Not a dick joke that time, I swear. I can hear her stomach growling from here.” He made a circle with his fingers over his head like a halo and smiled sweetly. “Today I’m being an angel.”
“You started another fight with me in Danny’s,” Logan growled. “Your halo is broken into horn shapes.”
Dustin narrowed his eyes and flipped Logan off. Again.
“Also angels don’t give the finger,” Winter pointed out.
Kane looked pissed, and his eyes were now that bright dragon green with the elongated pupils. “Did no one hear my order to leave us alone?”