by Sadie Hart
But Hexe was the first one who truly seemed to give a damn. He’d wanted to get to know her right from the start and as much as she’d hated his efforts, at the same time, he’d given her glimpses of what it was like to have someone around again. Those split seconds with him, even the fights when she’d had to force him away, had given her enough human contact to make going home alone again bearable.
Her hands fisted at her sides and Hexe froze a few steps away, a slight grimace playing across his face. “Relax, Steele.” He held up his hands. “Never mind. But it has to be awfully damn lonely to not let anyone in. Ever.”
The words stung and Steele flinched, her hand moving to her blade as she felt the familiar handle touch her skin. Then the knife was out, glinting in the light of Hexe’s living room as she turned to meet him. Hexe sat there, watching every move, a sad look in his eyes. “Forget I said a thing. We’ll go back to our silence.”
But she didn’t want that either. Hand tightening over the handle of her knife, Steele sucked in a hard breath. She stared numbly down at her mother’s blade, the cold comfort of it in her hand was almost habit. Whenever she’d felt cornered, fighting had been her solution. Her salvation. The knife and her own icy resolve had kept her safely alone.
Safe, but alone.
Steele lifted her gaze to his. She could always turn him away later. Swallowing hard, Steele put the knife away and took one shaky step towards him. “It was the color of my mother’s eyes.”
For a long moment Hexe didn’t say anything at all, he just sat there staring at her, surprise flickering in his eyes. Then he gave a soft huff of breath and leaned his head back against the sofa, a small smile toying at the edge of his lips. “What do you want to know?”
That one question opened a world between them and Steele found herself stepping closer, curious, despite herself. Looking around the living room she found her attention drawn back to the images of vines carved into his ceiling. She pointed. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“Back home. My father used to make all kinds of carvings and I used to have him teach me.” Tension seemed to leak from him as he talked, his voice becoming lower, a soothing baritone that seemed to fill the room. Whatever he remembered, it made him happy. Steele wrapped her arms around herself only to find Hexe looking at her again. “At first I just did little carvings here as a way to bring them back, then it was just a way to keep their memories fresh.”
And as much as she didn’t want to, Steele could understand that. Her mother had never had much, but every memento Steele could find, she’d hoarded after her mother’s death. As if holding those items could bring her mother back. Then, as she’d grown older and let the lessons of that day sink in, she’d realized she couldn’t afford to ever let someone in again. Trust and love were so easily betrayed.
Her hand fisted at her side, remembering the feel of the handle against her skin. To remind herself of the reason why she couldn’t afford friends or lovers, she’d only fought with one knife: her mother’s. Her fingernails bit into her palms, a harsh reminder that she should still be fighting, not sitting here talking with him, letting him in.
Steele itched to reach for her blade, but instead she found herself looking at Hexe, unable to tear her gaze away. Those green eyes of his saw too much. Said too much. Looking into them now, they whispered soft things, spoke quietly of his grief for his parents, murmured of his pride in his work, and lastly, they seemed to tell her how much he understood.
How much he cared.
In soft, firm tones, they told her of his passion, the heat flickering in their depths unmistakable. Steele gave a small gasp, bracing herself as Hexe pushed off of the couch and stood. Hexe slowly closed the distance between them, each stride slow and purposeful. She had plenty of time to run away but she couldn’t get her legs to move. She wanted her icy resolve back, the hardness that had shielded her the last time he’d been this close. But all she could see was the sadness in his gaze when he’d stared at that damned picture. Or those damned vines he’d carved into the ceiling, the picture in his headboard—memories of loved ones he’d lost and tried so desperately to hang on to.
And no matter how much she wanted to convince herself otherwise, he understood.
Hexe reached a hand up to touch her cheek, the calloused tips of his fingers dancing over her jaw. His thumb skated over her lips. Once, twice. The third time it paused, resting in the center like a ghost, hovering. Just barely there. She couldn’t move and yet her heart pounded away in her chest. Don’t, she wanted to say but she couldn’t get her lips to move. Not with his touch right there, his attention riveted on his skin against hers.
Steele blew out a soft breath, shaky, and it turned the air between his thumb and her lips to fire. Hot, scalding, and Hexe shuddered, swaying forward even as he dropped his hand. His breath touched hers, mingling, but he didn’t close that last inch. Instead he pulled his head back.
“Why didn’t you…?” the words tumbled out of her before she could stop them.
“What?”
Steele shook her head, unwilling to say it. Why didn’t you kiss me? It sounded childish. A teenage girl’s dream. Not her. Nothing at all like her.
Hexe paused. “Why didn’t I what?”
There was a low insistence to his voice she knew wouldn’t go away. He wouldn’t let this go. Steele started to move when one hand found her waist, just as gentle touch but she might as well have been naked for all the heat she could feel in from his skin. Her stomach sucked in.
“Kiss me. You stopped.” She forced her voice to be hard, to beat out the brittle edge that threatened to take her. “Why didn’t you give me the excuse to—”
He cut off her threat with a lazy smile. “Because you weren’t sure.”
That was the last thing she’d expected from the man who’d laid a claim on her. From a man she’d seen cut down every contender for the throne with such a ruthless edge she’d considered him every bit as merciless as she was. He should have stolen that kiss. Gone in and conquered. That was what men like him did.
Except, they were words that made perfect sense for the man she’d been living with these past four days. The one who smiled and teased, who put so much time and love into this house, who seemed so determined not to conquer, but instead to win her friendship. This man was completely different than the ruthless King he played in public. This was the real Hexe. After all, this was his home, where no one else could see him. There was no reason to play act here.
Steele swallowed, her eyes briefly closing as she gathered back her strength, the familiar coldness at the center of her heart. “This won’t work,” she said softly.
“What won’t?”
“You. Me. Whatever you’re doing.” Ice found her voice again, that cold hardness that was so similar to steel and stone. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a man. The moment this mark is gone from my breast I’ll leave. And I won’t look back.”
Hexe smiled a little at that. He lifted a hand to her lips again, tapping his index finger gently at the center. His head inclined just slightly.
“Maybe so. But I think you’ll look back.”
Chapter Five
Hexe watched as Steele stiffened against his words, against the soft dare in his voice. For a woman who didn’t want a man or a mate in her life, she sure had a funky way of showing it. Oh, he saw the steel cast of her mask when she had everything under control. But he’d seen the pain in her eyes when she’d told him why she loved the color blue, looking as wounded as a lost child in the woods.
He’d seen the way she’d stared at the picture of his parents, almost haunted.
She wanted companionship so badly it terrified her.
What he wouldn’t give to get that story out of her. One look at her face, her gunmetal eyes warmer than he’d ever seen them despite the edge of anger to them, and he knew something dark lingered in her past. A memory she couldn’t shake. Whatever man had hurt her so bad, Hexe wanted to go a round with him.<
br />
“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t kiss you,” he said, just to break the silence before he stepped away.
Hexe moved around her, the scent of the stew filling the room and Hexe headed for the kitchen. He let Steele have her silence, her alone time as he gave it another stir before turning off the heat.
“If you’re hungry—”
He was reaching for a bowl when a scream pierced the air outside the cabin, half eaten by the howl of the winter wind. Instantly, he had his knife in his hand. One glance at Steele, and Hexe could see her blade resting easy in her palm.
A loud thud struck his front door, enough to rattle it down to its hinges. Another scream. Feminine. Terrified. It lifted the hair down his neck and left him bone cold. Steele sucked in a breath between her teeth and tensed beside him. She’d gotten her feet solidly underneath her now and had moved up beside him. Ready, watching, but she was letting him take lead.
It was his house after all. The thought drew a soft smirk to his lips. Steele was a survivor, and she had no reason to look after him. The woman outside pounded against his door, shrieking. Her voice broke off in sobbing fits that tore at his heart, but Hexe didn’t rush the door.
He’d fallen for the hurt kitten routine once and had nearly gotten his throat slashed out. There were those who would never fight fair. Instead he approached from the side, steps slow. Steele matched him on the other side, calm. Her icy resolve firmly in check.
“Please! Please!”
The door shook under the force of her fists as the woman railed out another sob.
“Hexe, please!”
Her voice. Oddly husky, distinct. Almost too gravelly for a woman’s. A memory clicked into place, the redhead from last year. Odd, he couldn’t place her name but he could remember her voice. Hexe reached for the handle. “Step back.”
Her sob broke into a small gaps and he heard her stagger backwards. “Oh thank you. Thank you, thank you.”
He opened the door, Steele stepping up behind him but the woman had dropped to her knees in the snow, her face buried in her wind raw hands. Her knuckles were bright red against the cold. Damn. Hexe reached out, grabbed her by the back of her shirt and hauled her inside. She stumbled but didn’t fight.
Instead, she reached out with both hands and wound her arms around his waist, collapsing against him. Steele shut the door, a mocking lift to her brows. She would find this amusing.
Hexe caught the woman under the chin, tilted her face up. Tears streaked down her cheeks and he could feel the violent hammer of her pulse. “What happened?”
“Liam...” She cried out, twisting her head out of his grip and burying her face against his stomach. Open mouthed, the heat of her breath twisted up his belly. Hot, sticky. Tears left the fabric wet. What the fuck was her name?
Steele folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the door. She didn’t look at all inclined to help. The woman kneeling before him groaned into his belly, but before she could start crying again, he placed a hand on each side of her face and forced her head up again. “What happened?”
He drew the words out slow and firm. Damn it. Listen.
“I was...I was with Liam. We’d decided to run the mountains for a few nights, you know? See if there was anything.” She shivered, one hand slipping into the hem of his jeans. Not sexual. She just clung to him as if she needed something, anything, to hold onto. His jeans just happened to be it.
Her breath shook as she closed her eyes, gathering courage. “We’d just been walking, Liam wanted a run, so we shifted. Then I saw the man on the cliff, he had this big rifle.”
Steele stood suddenly, her knuckles white as she wrapped the handle of her knife in a death grip.
“He had to have seen us. Had to known what we were. I mean we were just human and then…then he just shot Liam.” Her voice broke on a sob. “It was silver. One minute he was standing, the gun sounded, Liam jerked and then collapsed.” Her voice trembled. “He didn’t get up.”
Steele reached out and caught her by the shoulder, shaking her. “Get a grip. Where was this?”
“I don’t know. I just ran.”
“Could he have followed you here?” Steele’s voice trembled a little over that last word and Hexe’s eyes narrowed.
“You know something?”
Steele cut him a glance, but she didn’t answer him. Her attention was pinned on the woman still kneeling in front of him. She took a step closer, the threat of violence filling her. “Could he have followed you here?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know!” She gripped Hexe’s jeans tighter, her body starting to shake. “I bolted when he started coming down… I watched though, he just sat down by Liam. He had a knife; he didn’t look like he was going to follow me.”
Steele turned for the door and Hexe lurched to catch her, grabbing the wrist with her knife out of habit. She froze, her lips lifting in a hiss but he didn’t back down. “Wait.”
“Mark or not, I’m not staying here.” But there was nothing in her eyes that showed fear. Just anger—raw, tormented fury that filled her, ricocheted through her gaze and tore at him. This, this was part of her story. The part he needed to know.
Hexe tightened his grip on her wrist. “We go together.”
Something flashed in her eyes, surprise maybe, but it was gone too fast for him to be sure. She started to jerk away, to leave anyway, but he didn’t let her go. “Steele. Wait. I’m going with you.”
He turned back to the woman still kneeling in front of him. “Go home. Lock yourself in and don’t come out until I’ve given word.”
Her lip trembled. “I don’t want to go alone.”
Of course she didn’t. Hexe couldn’t blame her, but she didn’t look like the kind of woman who wanted to go hunt a killer. Steele on the other hand was damn near gnashing her teeth over his command. Hexe blew out a sharp breath. “Then stay here.”
He stepped away, moving for the door but she scrambled after him. She caught the edge of his shirt and tried to drag him back, raw terror flashing in her eyes. It tore at his heart. She needed time, comfort. She’d seen something most people would go their whole lives never having seen.
But he couldn’t afford the time to linger.
Hexe caught her by her upper arms and hauled her to her feet, placing her steadfast in front of him. His gaze was firm when it met hers. “Stay here.”
“Don’t go. Please, please don’t leave me…” Another sob escaped her and she reached for him, only to jerk to a stop as Steele pressed a knife to her throat. There was nothing in those gunmetal eyes that spoke of warmth, just cold determination.
Steele stepped closer, forcing the woman back a step. “Stay here or go home, but shut the fuck up so we can go.”
Steele jerked the knife away and left the other woman standing there. Her eyes were round with fear, but she didn’t move as Steele jerked open the door and strode out into the cold. She melded into the forest. The wind whipped snow around in a blur and Hexe had to blink into the darkness before he spotted Steele. Crouched along the edge of the house, she slipped into the shadows of the forest. The sky had grown dusky with an oncoming storm, darkness creeping in. Hexe followed, his front door swinging shut behind him.
The woman inside didn’t so much as make a peep in protest.
Steele’s boots left marks in the snow, easy enough to track normally, but with the wind picking up, blasting snow across the ground, they were fading fast. Hexe muttered a curse and jogged after her. The howling gales of an oncoming storm left the sky lighter than normal despite the evening hour, but when it finally closed in, they’d be left outside in the dark, with a blizzard moving in. The last thing he wanted to do was get stuck out in a storm.
“Tell me what you know,” he said as he caught up with her, stepping carefully into her tracks. An experienced tracker would easily see two sets of prints, but with the wind and darkness coming, they’d soon fade all together.
“Poacher.” Steele g
lanced back over her shoulder, her eyes molten to the core. There was nothing left under that anger, that fury. That look was almost enough to make him stumble. Whoever they found tonight, Steele was going to kill.
“Why would a poacher carry silver? He would know that Liam was human. He had to have seen them”
Her smile turned dark, wicked in the lack of light. “He saw them. That’s why…” The muscle in her jaw flexed as anger rippled through her, a flash fire that burned in her eyes as she looked at him. “He’s not poaching for cat fur. The leopards are rarer than us, but they’re easier to catch.”
She shook her head and the long, black tail of her braid snapped in the wind. “He’s poaching for shifters. For us.”
“What the hell for?”
Steele crouched low as she tilted back her head to scent. The wind swiveled towards them, bringing the scents of the night to them. Hexe tipped his head back too and drank it down. A marmot had passed by not too long ago, probably from one of the cliff faces. A hare lay somewhere close.
Steele turned back to him. “Magick. Witches and the like use them for sacrifices, skinwalkers like a new coat every now and then. They’re worth a fortune to anyone willing to dabble in the black arts.”
That was news to him. Steele started forward again, and he realized she was tracking the redhead’s path up to his house, just giving it a wide berth. Her eyes warily dancing over the surrounding forest. He could be anywhere, armed with a gun big enough to bring down a leopard and he was packing silver. A shudder rolled through Hexe. This wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done.
He stepped up alongside Steele, back stiff as he scanned the surrounding area. “Well if he was poaching for skins, why let one get away?”
“They have to be skinned immediately. He didn’t have an option until he’d harvested the first. He’d be stupid not to track a second though. We’re not exactly common.” White teeth flashed back at him. Another smile, but there wasn’t much about Steele that was friendly right now.