Pure Claim

by Marie Johnston

  X sat next to the graves, silently considering the person she used to be, the mourning she had never gotten to do. A hot tear burned a path down her cheek, followed by another, until they cascaded constantly. Gah, when was the last time she cried?

  She sat for hours, knowing it was only the beginning of her healing journey. Once she left, it was just her and she would have to open up her mind and deal with everything she had buried inside. It was so tempting just to keep it all shoved into a dark corner of her brain. One thing she had learned the last few days was that it wouldn’t give her the life she wanted if she did that. She deserved more; Rhys deserved more.

  With a long inhale, X stood and gave the lonely graves one last look before she headed back to the car.

  *****

  Boss, we have serious company. Mercury’s voice floated through Rhys’ mind.

  Rhys didn’t have to ask. He had a strong suspicion what kind of shit had just dropped on his doorstep.

  Are they in the lodge?

  They barged in through the damn door. I told Dani to stay put, I don’t want any of those bastards around her.

  If the council was really undermining human mates, then Dani and Cassie needed to stay as far away as possible. And if the rumors about the council assassinating Mercury’s colony had any substance, it wasn’t a good idea for Mercury to be standing in front of them, gathering attention.

  Are you with them?

  Yeah. Bennett’s smooth-talking them.

  Good. Bennett could still turn on the charm when he needed to.

  Be right there.

  Rhys left his office and strode down to the lodge’s entryway. All he could hope for was that his pack wouldn’t suffer for his actions.

  Waiting just inside the door of the lodge, with Mercury and Bennett, were four shifters. Rhys recognized one as Malcolm and Harrison’s father. The other three carried the scent unique to a Guardian and must be from the council’s personal pack. There were two males and one female Guardian.

  “Councilman Wallace.” Rhys addressed the stately shifter who carried a heavy air of arrogance.

  “Commander Fitzsimmons,” he acknowledged. “Where’s the hybrid?”

  Displeasure rippled through Rhys. They treated X as if she was an object. Constantly referring to her as an Agent was better than “the hybrid.”

  She was his hybrid. “Let’s move to my office,” Rhys suggested.

  The three burly guards shifted, a clear sign that they didn’t want to get left out of the talks.

  “Only if the hybrid is in your office,” Councilman Wallace replied smoothly.

  “The hybrid has a name.”

  One of the council’s Guardians made a derogatory noise. “She has a letter.”

  Rhys’ body stiffened at the insult. Mercury and Bennett tensed, ready to back him up. He glared at the strange shifter until the male dropped his gaze. “X. Call her X.”

  Councilman Wallace narrowed his sharp whiskey eyes on Rhys. “And where is X?”

  When Rhys came to terms, all those years ago, that his mate was an Agent, he knew it would eventually come to this. That was even before he learned of her dual heritage. After that, it was only a matter of time, and he’d bought as much he could afford. It was time to pay up.

  “She’s gone.”

  Now it was the council’s Guardians who tensed. No doubt they expected a confrontation and had come ready for an altercation with the infamous hybrid.

  To his credit, Councilman Wallace didn’t appear very surprised. “Explain.”

  “I let her go.” Rhys hoped they didn’t smell a lie. Of course Rhys didn’t let X do anything. “She needed to figure things out after the trauma she’s been through, and she couldn’t do it here. Not with the council breathing down her neck.”

  It was a weak attempt at laying the blame at the council’s feet, but Rhys felt like being a dick.

  The shrewd councilman studied him. “You do realize that all who knew about this are subject to disciplinary action.”

  “The others didn’t know I let her leave.”

  “How long has she been gone?”

  “Five days.”

  Councilman Wallace expelled a heavy sigh. Rhys almost believed the male wasn’t looking forward to carrying out his duty punishing Rhys or his pack.

  “Five days. Yet neither you, nor any of your team, reported her absence?”

  “They wouldn’t have.” Time to let the bomb drop. “She’s my mate.”

  The councilman’s eyes widened, and his guards shook their heads in disbelief. Rhys sensed nothing from Mercury and Bennett behind him. They were passively watching the exchange. He had discussed several scenarios with them about how all this could play out, and they waited to see what happened.

  “Well,” the councilman drawled, “at least she’s the mate of one of ours and not of a vampire. That solves one problem.” He regarded Rhys. “Are you saying the other Guardians were respecting your right to protect your mate as you see fit?”

  “Yes.” Now that was interesting. It was almost as if the councilman was leading him into answering in a way that would be beneficial to Rhys’ pack. If his team was following pack rules of protecting mates, then the blame would lie solely on Rhys. Otherwise, Councilman Wallace could take them all in to face a tribunal.

  “Is your mating official? Have you been through the ceremony?” The councilman’s nostrils flared, likely trying to sense if Rhys had been at least marked yet by his mate.

  “You can understand, it’s a delicate situation.”

  “The council will hunt her,” Councilman Wallace warned.

  Mercury grunted behind him. “Good luck.”

  “I agree,” the councilman replied, congenially. “If I didn’t have such a difficult mate myself, I might not sympathize.”

  Rhys had learned the twins’ mom was a vicious female. The males themselves told him that with a sense of both mortification and pride.

  Councilman Wallace beckoned his guards forward. “Regardless, we will have to bring you in, and the other former Agent, E.”

  “I understand. And Agent E and his family left yesterday.”

  Rhys heard rumbles from the council’s Guardians, obviously not happy.

  Councilman Wallace exhaled a long-suffering sigh, even rolling his eyes. “Again, no one reported it?”

  “It’s not unusual for them to go to town on a family excursion.” They’d only ever done so once, before they left for an indefinite amount of time a day ago. “I wasn’t going to declare them officially missing until they were gone a full forty-eight hours.”

  “What a nice head start,” Councilman Wallace said dryly. “You will come along willingly?”

  The other Guardians shifted cautiously while Mercury and Bennett appeared relaxed. They were anything but.

  Rhys nodded. “Of course. Bennett Young will resume command of the pack.”

  The councilman studied Rhys closely before turning his attention to a tightly controlled Bennett. “Unless we discover he’s keeping information from us as well.”

  The male lifted a questioning eyebrow at Bennett, who gazed impassively back before replying, “I will command loyally in Commander Fitzsimmons’ place until he is reestablished as pack leader.”

  A humorous glint entered Councilman Wallace’s eyes, as if he caught the subversive way Bennett avoided his veiled accusation.

  “Hand over your weapons, Commander,” the female Guardian demanded.

  Resigned, Rhys stripped himself of every piece of metal he was wearing. Instead of tossing them to the stout brunette, he passed them back to Mercury.

  He saw one of the council Guardian’s lips curl up in a sneer at the show of defiance.

  “Commander Fitzsimmons,” the councilman announced, “with the authority of the Lycan Council, I must strip you of title—”

  “Temporarily,” Bennett interrupted. The sneering Guardian growled at the interruption of their distinguished guest.

  Perhaps Counci
lman Wallace was offended, but he only appeared more amused. “Possibly temporarily strip you of title as West Creek Guardian Commander.” He peered past Rhys to study the new commander. “Bennett Young, by the power of the Lycan Council, I grant you the title of West Creek Guardian Commander.”

  “Temporarily,” Bennett said in affirmation.

  More amusement highlighted the councilman’s eyes. “Possibly temporary.”

  “Good enough,” Bennett said as he nodded.

  Councilman Wallace’s face grew serious. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Nine

  X trotted through the pines, her paws padding agilely through the light snow. It was freaking gorgeous here. Her breath huffed, and she even let her tongue loll out.

  The sun was setting, and she would soon have to find shelter for the night. If she was in human form she’d be pretty damn cold, and…She sighed in resignation.

  How spoiled she’d been with Rhys protecting her dreams. It was bad enough living with the memories. But the dreams—no, nightmares…Even sleeping in her wolf form, she’d awaken with a start, snarling at the darkness. They were brutal and devastatingly accurate. It was like reliving her conditioning and training all over again. The vampires and Agents who had played with her like she was the latest toy revisited her. They looked the same, smelled the same. The fangs that drew from her vein as she strained to tune out her biology under another’s body, helpless against the pain disguised as pleasure coursing through her body.

  For years, she cursed her genetics. Hated that something she had despised doing had to feel good, end in orgasm. At least now she knew it only merely felt good physically. What she had experienced with Rhys before she left was phenomenal. Her mind was emotionally connected to the male, her body experienced nothing short of ecstasy, and she had almost felt complete.

  If she could bring herself to mate the big lug, then that sense of completion would only heighten any physical relations between them. As it was, they didn’t even have to be touching for her to get electrified when he walked into the room. Every nerve in her body yearned to get closer to the imposing shifter in hopes that maybe her skin would feel the stroke of his.

  Gah! She hated feeling like she needed him. This little “I need to find myself” mission wouldn’t work if she pined away in the pines for Rhys Fitzsimmons.

  She’d been gone almost two months. Winter was settling in around the country, especially in the mountains. After visiting the place where it all started, she drove to where she used to run with her family. Thought it would be a fitting place to start.

  Finding a nice, desolate area, she had trudged deep into the evergreens and stripped down. But she couldn’t shift. Her memories were assaulting her, and they were good ones for a change. That made it all the harder.

  So she’s wove her way back to the car, took a siesta, and drove to somewhere she’d never been before. It took days. She and E had covered quite the territory for Sigma, and she knew exactly where all the shifter colonies were situated deep in the woods. Once she had found a spot away from paranormals and humans alike, she left the car and her clothing and became a large black wolf with brilliant green eyes.

  In the mountains, she had to rely on her senses and instincts, not cunning and deception. It was refreshing. Her senses were still being used for survival, but in a good, clean way. That became her routine for the next few weeks. Drive, have a look-see, strip, and run. Sometimes for days. Head back to the car, repeat.

  But the nightmares…Every night, every damn time she closed her eyes, they were there. Reminding her of everything she had been through, all of the people who had suffered along with her. Every night, she jerked awake snarling, screaming if she was in human form.

  She was tired. So she ran more.

  *****

  Month Three

  It was that time of the week.

  The massive shifter loomed over him, a meaty fist caught him in the jaw. Rhys’ head flung to the side and then rolled back. He let it hang there. It was a small reprieve, but if he brought it up, sometimes Mastiff hit him again without pause.

  Mastiff fit his name—big head, burly body. He wasn’t nearly as cute as the full canine variety and he was a whole lot meaner. With a skull buzz and wearing a wife-beater, he looked as mean as he really was.

  Rhys brought his head up and, as per their normal routine, he spit blood at the determined male. This, of course, earned him another fist to the cheekbone. The familiar, refreshingly painful crack of bone seared through his face as his head whipped to the side.

  The council sent Mastiff to interrogate Rhys via his beefy hooks. Rhys didn’t break, Mastiff had a good time, all ended well. By now, the council knew Rhys wouldn’t offer information on X. Rhys had been so tight lipped, they didn’t suspect that he knew who X’s entire family was, where they resided, or that two of them were part of his pack. They weren’t even sure she had any living relatives.

  The last part made him smile. Which pissed off Mastiff, who aimed his next punch at Rhys’ gut.

  Air whooshed out as Rhys doubled over as much as possible, being tied into a metal chair, his hands bound behind the back of it. It felt like his stomach was going to come out his throat. Coughing and gagging, Rhys righted himself.

  “Mastiff,” he wheezed, “you can do better than that.”

  Mastiff’s pudgy lips thinned. “I will do much better if you don’t contact your female.” His voice rumbled through the room.

  “Fuck. Do you gargle with rocks in the morning?” Rhys had been dreaming about his mate too much. He usually wasn’t so flippant. “Hit me again, big guy.”

  The barrel-chested male’s mouth twitched. He heaved his mighty fist back. For fun, Rhys took bets on where the devastating blow was going to land.

  Ten bucks on the face.

  Gut. Rhys heaved forward, lost for breath. It was the gut.

  Mastiff grabbed Rhys’ face and jerked it up. Rhys could smell the bacon the male had eaten for breakfast. His own stomach would’ve rumbled if it wasn’t in excruciating pain. All he had gotten to eat in his private cell was cheap shit: oatmeal, canned meat product, and disintegrating vegetable matter.

  The personal punisher of the council finished whaling on Rhys. Then he unhooked Rhys from his chair, leaving his hands behind his back, and towed him back to his cell. Once inside, Rhys assumed the position as Mastiff closed and locked the door. Putting his cuffed hands against the slot in the door, the shackles fell away, and Mastiff yanked them out completely.

  Taking a page from X’s book, because damn it was fun, he called through the door. “Until next time, Bulldog.”

  Mastiff growled and slammed the door with his fist, making it shudder. Rhys chuckled and stabbing pain shot through his ribs. He collapsed on the ungodly uncomfortable cot in the room for some healing rest.

  At first, Rhys was surprised they kept him in a private cell, away from the other prisoners. He initially suspected it was to drive him crazy, being alone for months, but it seemed like there was another reason. He never interacted with other prisoners, was never hauled through the cells as a show of force, never passed by anyone getting dragged down the hallway to and from his weekly interrogation.

  It couldn’t be just because they were trying to drive him to such boredom that he’d break down and contact X, luring her to the council’s location so they could trap her.

  He wasn’t tempted. Ever. What he was experiencing was nothing compared to what she was recovering from. He would give her time, and entertain the thought that she might come back to him someday. Some year. He’d waited this long, he was willing to wait longer.

  If the council sought to drive him feral from forced isolation, they couldn’t be more wrong. Yes, he was an unmated male in his prime. He’d gone longer than most, keeping his sanity without a mating bond. At first it was duty, pure and simple. He lived for his work. Then he laid eyes on X, and that was all he needed. Now, he had no worries. Years and years could go by, he wouldn’t for
get the taste of his mate on his tongue, the cries of his name coming from her lips as she came from his touch.

  At night, when he wouldn’t dream of that—and he dreamed of it often—he walked the dreams of those around council headquarters. He found out a lot of secrets, but nothing that could help his pack implicate the council in any wrongdoing. Or at least any wrongdoing regarding plotting against human mates or packs with special skills. That meant either there was nothing nefarious to discover or only certain council members were involved.

  He figured it was the latter. It had to be. The council didn’t know of his power, thought it was something more mental, like X’s hypnosis or Jace’s power of persuasion. But the five males on the Lycan Council didn’t get to where they were by being weak. Rhys needed to tread carefully around their dreams, so they wouldn’t sense his presence and figure out a way to keep him from doing it.

  So far, in the almost three months he’d been incarcerated, he had made it into the minds of two of the newer council members. Councilman Demke and Councilman Ute had both been members for about fifty years. They were charged with Lycan education and tradition, helping isolated colonies carry out council policies. Rhys had no reason to think either male was involved in underhanded plans against their own kind. Their dreams only showed him how traditional some packs were in their pack mentality.

  Two nights ago, however, Rhys had a major victory, sneaking his way into Councilman Wallace’s dreams. He found nothing of use, but he found a whole lot that was interesting. The male dreamed of another female, one with oak-colored hair like the councilman’s sons, Malcolm and Harrison. The female looked nothing like the councilman’s mate, who Rhys had met only once.

  Once was enough. She mastered the fine art of emasculating males. And females, if possible.

  After he recovered from the beating, Rhys would walk the male’s dreams again. Then he would hover around the dreams of Councilman Seether and Hargrath. The twin’s father had only been a member of the council for a century, but the other two were much older, and had been members as long as Rhys was old. They probably traced their direct ancestors to the ancients, the most powerful, pure-blooded shifters. It would make sense if they were behind any attempts at eradicating human mates.