Araneae Nation: The Complete Collection

by Hailey Edwards

  This canis was bulky, and its musculature would have made darting impossible. He lifted his head, scenting the air. Whatever he smelled I would have sworn made him grin as he trotted into the space between me and the den. Tossing his head back, he issued a long, throaty howl that rang of challenge. Other voices, many voices, sounding much closer than I anticipated, yipped in turn.

  Beside me, Jana vibrated with a growled protest at having her nap interrupted.

  I patted her head. “Now’s not the time, little one.”

  For good measure, I spun a quick length of silk and made a slipknot collar for her. I would rather she fight the collar than the male who eyed the den with an eager gleam in his eyes. He had called Errol out. I was certain of it. How he expected the battered alpha to answer in his condition, I wasn’t sure. No doubt that was the point.

  He had a keen nose. He smelled Errol’s blood. He knew his alpha was wounded, badly. How long before he decided his challenge had gone unmet and that he had the right to confront Errol?

  Not long I bet. Like all schemers, he would strike while Errol was at his weakest.

  Here I sat with scraps of net tangled in my fingers and a canis bearing down on me. Truly, the more time I spent with Brynmor, the more I appreciated the enormity of the trial the river had placed before me. Had I not wished for more time to learn how I might defend myself?

  Following the river was a test set before my people, and it had forced me to excel. Forget the notions I had that others must teach me to protect myself. I had endured this far alone. The gods had conspired to grow me into a person capable of using her wits and skills to survive.

  With that in mind, I wound the end of Jana’s leash around the trunk of the nearest tree. She was not pleased, but she would be safe. When I stood, the challenger folded his ears flat against his skull. Teeth bared, he backed toward the den. For an instant, it seemed like a perfect solution, until I remembered what Brynmor had said, that Jana had escaped through one of its many exits.

  That meant the challenger could kill Errol and escape to tout his victory.

  Inwardly, I groaned. When had I begun thinking of them as capable of such emotion?

  Sometime between witnessing Brynmor soothe Errol and holding Jana for the first time, the canis had become more to me than mere beasts. They were individuals, possessing their own personalities, goals and desires. And what this canis desired was to destroy Brynmor’s link to the living world. As much as I respected the natural order of things, I would not turn a blind eye here.

  I could not walk away from these lands and know Brynmor no longer inhabited them.

  Or worse, that he did but was nothing but air and doomed to an eternity of silence.

  He deserved better than that. He deserved to enjoy his second chance at life even if he chose to do so alone rather than share more of his time with me. Exhaling, I shoved all dark thoughts of him aside. Later, I would speak with Brynmor. For now, I had a den to protect and a soul to save.

  As if sensing my resolve to stand between him and his quarry, the challenger mock-charged and I stumbled back. With a dismissive snort in my direction, he returned his attention to the den.

  “I can’t let you go in there.” I stepped forward, tossing my net aside in favor of my lariat.

  His head lowered, breath huffing the dirt at his paws.

  Gliding three steps to my left meant the canis had to go through me to reach the den.

  He took one slow step forward, giving me the chance to edge aside. I crept forward instead, holding my lariat tight, aiming for his front paws, waiting for the opportunity to take him down.

  A growl rose behind me, sending me spinning around so I could identify this newest threat.

  What I saw astounded me. There was no second interloper. It was Errol.

  His wound was still ragged and wept as he stalked forward to answer his rival’s challenge.

  Torn between grabbing Errol in a chokehold and forcing him back into the den, and using my lariat as a buffer between me and his very sharp teeth, I missed the black gleam in his usually gold eyes until he turned his head and winked at me before nudging me aside.

  “Brynmor?” I waited for confirmation, but Errol was too engaged.

  Assuming Errol was still in control…

  The challenger glanced from left to right, searching for an escape route or in expectation of a reprieve in the form of the pack’s arrival. Sensing the challenger’s hesitation, Errol snapped his teeth to get the second male’s attention. The challenger flinched but held his ground, and a steady rumble poured from his throat. Errol answered with a bass snarl of his own, then he leapt.

  The pair was a blur as they locked teeth and their two powerful bodies slammed into the dirt.

  Shock froze me in place until Errol’s piercing cry spurred me into action.

  I shook out the lariat, keeping an eye out for an opening while I circled the canis. I didn’t dare risk tangling the pair together while Errol was so weak. Instead I watched for a break in their standoff and kept shaking the rope, hoping to distract the challenger long enough for Errol to gather his wits. I resorted to yells and whistles to make the challenger spin on me.

  While his attention was diverted, Errol lunged at his throat. He bit down until the challenger made a choked sound and rolled onto his back in submission. Heartbeats passed while I assured myself that Errol was winded but fine, which meant Brynmor, wherever he was, was also safe.

  Errol held the male down until the challenger stayed limp and still, until I wondered if Errol required help prying his jaw free of his opponent’s neck. Just as I lowered my lariat, I heard them.

  The pack had arrived.

  Chapter 8

  Clutching my lariat, I backed away from Errol and left him to his show. The other canis eyed me warily until Errol’s rumbled warning drew their attention to him and the challenger he had bested. A few yips, several bobbed heads and chuffs of boredom summed up the pack’s reaction.

  I kept watch in case another canis screwed up its nerve to attack Errol, but the others seemed content with their alpha’s victory. They gave me the impression of casual acceptance, as if these things happened often enough to cease being the spectacle it had been to me. Or they were that confident in Errol’s abilities to command the pack he had led this far and protected for this long.

  Either way, I was content leaving him to it. I backed a safe distance away and let the alpha’s dominance game continue while I crept toward Jana and freed her from her collar. With the pack here, I thought it wiser if they didn’t notice their sole pup tied by a thread smelling of my hands.

  After nipping my fingers, she bounded into the forest and tackled the leg of a white canis.

  I dusted my hands and straightened my shirt.

  “I shouldn’t have left you here to face that.”

  I tensed at the sound of Brynmor’s voice. “It was my idea for you to go.”

  He grunted in answer.

  Facing him took more effort than it should have. He stood transparent at Errol’s shoulder. It was a state of being I was familiar with in context to Brynmor, but my breath caught at the sight.

  It shouldn’t hurt so much to look at a male and see so many impossible possibilities.

  But it did.

  “How is Errol?” I asked.

  “I’m lending him strength.” He stared at his faded hands. “Even so, we’re both fading fast.”

  “Fading?” I was walking toward Brynmor before he could answer.

  “He needs time to heal. I can help, somewhat.” He flexed his fingers. “But not indefinitely.”

  “Put him in the den. Possess him. Force him. Do whatever you need to do.”

  “Free will,” he said, “cannot be circumvented if I want our pact honored.”

  I closed the distance between us. “What good does your pact do you if he dies?”

  “What if he lives but dissolves our pact because of my breach of honor?”

  “I—” I had
no handy answer for that.

  As if an order had been given, the canis dispersed in a frenzy of barks and leaps.

  I exhaled with relief. “Where are they going?”

  “They’re returning to the upper den.” Brynmor ruffled the fur atop Errol’s head.

  “Just like that?” I marveled at the utter silence enfolding us. “It’s over?”

  “Dominance fights are more common than you might think, given Errol’s unnatural bargain with me. The loyal members of the pack have become accustomed to the occasional tussles.” He shrugged. “Besides, the pack smelled the hunters’ corpses. They know Errol killed both males to protect them, which made it easier to order their return to the upper den while he scouts the area for more hunters. Errol asked the pack to give him a few days. Once he deems the den is safe, he will return for them. Hunting is better in this area this time of year. They must return here soon.”

  “How do you know all that?” I considered Errol a moment. “Do you two speak somehow?”

  He tapped the side of his head. “Mind to mind. There’s no need for words between us.”

  Unsure how I should reply to his outlandish claim, especially since it must be true, I latched on to a new topic. “I suppose it’s no coincidence that Errol requires those few days to recover?”

  “He hasn’t kept his title this long by being a fool.” Brynmor laughed. “Come on, brother.”

  His touch seemed more solid than it should have been. Errol leaned against Brynmor’s hand, and I envied their connection, strong despite how weak they both were. After a moment’s break, Errol shook out his matted fur. I stood back while the alpha strutted into his den without a wince.

  I was oddly proud of how well he managed. While Brynmor got him settled, I salvaged what parts of my net hadn’t been trampled. Now it required patch work before I could finish weaving.

  I should have been happy. It meant more time with Brynmor. But was that what he wanted?

  “Errol’s resting.” Brynmor braced a hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m hungry. I’m tired. I’ve seen more canis in the past few days than I have in a lifetime.” I dropped my face into my hands. “I met a male I would like to…” I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

  He took the scraps of silver mesh from my hands to inspect. “You don’t have to finish this.”

  Had I imagined the dismissal in his tone? “You paid me. I will honor our bargain.”

  “You saved Errol—and me. You’ve more than earned your baubles.”

  I watched him crumple the net in his hand. “If you’re sure…”

  “You’ve done so much for me already,” he said. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay.”

  “No.” If he heard the crack of my heart splitting, he gave no sign. “We wouldn’t want that.”

  He rubbed my shoulder. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know.” He was being polite when I wanted…more. “I think I’d better gather my things.”

  I patted his hand once before walking from underneath it, out of reach, and into the forest.

  The river beckoned, and I was ready to let it wash away the hurt throbbing in my chest.

  I was ready to tell Brynmor goodbye.

  Only the pain resonating through his bond with Errol held Brynmor steady. Watching Daraja ease through the trees and vanish was enough to make him abandon his friend in pursuit of her.

  “I was right.” Errol’s mental voice was weak.

  “About?” His attention was centered on the gap in the foliage where Daraja had disappeared.

  “The female.” He laughed. “You still have her scent in your nose. You track her even now.”

  “I’m concerned for her.” Brynmor joined Errol in the den.

  “You covet her.” Errol rolled onto his side to witness the impact of his words.

  “I have nothing to offer her.” Sidling past him, Brynmor said, “No clan, no home, no name.”

  His laughter collapsed into a deep coughing fit. “What is a clan but family? Cannot the two of you create your own? What is a home but a sense of security? Must that be a fixed location?”

  “You made your point.” Brynmor shook his head. “Our circumstances aren’t so simple.”

  “You make what is simple difficult. The female has remained with you these past few days when most would have dismissed you as a dream, or as a nightmare. She is a huntress, yet she set aside her weapons in order to aid you—and the pack. Those are the actions of a female who has found her mate.” Errol sounded amused. “If you do not claim her soon, then she will leave.”

  “I know.” She was making plans already.

  “If you are content to age alongside me, then I have no complaints, though I do wish for you to meet a better end than your first. Your heart has had time to heal. Your pride is what stings at your wife’s betrayal.” His voice softened. “Life is fleeting. Losing Scipio taught me that lesson.”

  “You would have me break my vow to you? You would have me leave with her?”

  “Just because you leave doesn’t mean you can’t ever come back.”

  Longing tightened Brynmor’s gut, but duty came first. “I will remain until you’re well.”

  “She stayed this long,” he reasoned. “She will wait a few days more if you ask her to.”

  “I’m…not as certain as you.” Brynmor patted his friend. “I’ve already asked much of her.”

  “Your hesitance betrays your desire, brother.” Errol leaned into his touch. “You want her.”

  “Wanting her has never been in question.” Brynmor laughed softly. “Having her…”

  “Your mind has been made up.” Errol’s teeth gleamed in a smile. “You have only to accept it.”

  “Rest now.” Brynmor watched as Errol’s eyes slid out of focus. “You and I will talk later.”

  “I will be here later.” His eyes closed. “But will your female?”

  Daraja might remain if Brynmor asked her, but to what end?

  Obligation had snuffed the bright spark from Isolde’s eyes. Daraja would not suffer the same fate. She would not be caged by him. She would not be bound to him or to his will. She would go if she wished and return if she wanted. He would not ask her to stay. The choice was hers alone.

  Once he had ruined the female he loved, stripped her of all the things she prized most.

  This time would be different. This time he would be different.

  He would not be responsible for silencing the song in Daraja’s heart.

  After a while, Errol’s breathing evened and his paws began twitching in the type of peaceful sleep only children and animals experience. One day Brynmor would work up the nerve to ask if the alpha chased cottontail lepus while he slept. Until then, he slipped from the den into the night.

  Concern for Daraja caused his gaze to wander from the darkening sky to the still woods. He brushed off his sense of unease, the budding panic that she might not come back. That she might keep walking until she reached the city or bypass Cathis and veer toward the winding river bend.

  Before doubt sent him searching for her, a lullaby reached his ears.

  Drawn by the breathy tune, he left his vigil and tracked the music to its source.

  Daraja labored to sing and keep a pack slung on her shoulder. The front of her shirt bulged, making her abdomen appear swollen. Brynmor stood over her scowling before she noticed him.

  “What happened?” He pointed at her distended stomach.

  Her laughter was tired as she leaned over and sniffed him. “Is that fear I smell?”

  “Fear?”

  “We spent one night together and I return to you swollen with…” Her shirt began to writhe. A low whine was his only warning before dainty teeth pierced the fabric of her shirt. “…a pup.”

  “A pup?” He stared as the teeth disappeared.

  “Do me a favor.” She set the pack down and tugged her shirt from her pants. “Catch.”

  A bundle of dark fur
tumbled into his open hands. “Jana?”

  “Yes.” Daraja patted his flushed cheek. “I suppose this means you aren’t so potent after all.”

  Longing tightened his gut. “You didn’t give me a chance.”

  Frozen somewhere between surprise and an expression he dared to name arousal, Daraja let her tongue sweep across her full bottom lip before she answered. “Some chances must be taken.”

  “And sometimes,” he said softly, “the sweetest surrenders are given freely.”

  Tilting her head in consideration, she gave him a hesitant nod. “Yes.”

  “Yes?” Back he slipped into echoing her comments. He couldn’t help it. Daraja scattered his wits until only confusion remained. Single words became hard to produce while in her presence.

  “After last night…” She took his hand, smoothed her thumb across his knuckles. “I want you, once more. Like this, skin to skin.”

  Much to Brynmor’s chagrin, he failed to produce even a single word in response.

  He did, however, manage to nod.

  Chapter 9

  Fire, I was playing with fire, and Brynmor’s gaze burned me. Instead of cooling my interest, it seemed all my walk had done was stoke my desire for Brynmor to pleasure me in the flesh. I could muster the determination to leave if I knew what I left behind was less than I imagined we could be. Our one encounter, unable to touch or taste him, made me ache to learn the textures of his body. I would map his contours with my fingers and discover what made his rigid control snap.

  “I take it that means you’re interested,” I said, drawing out the moment.

  “I am.” He trailed a finger across my jaw, and my eyes rolled shut. “Very.”

  Behind my eyelids, in the dark, it was easier to keep the tremble from my voice. “Good.”

  “Daraja.” His voice came near my ear.

  My eyes cracked open to find him standing at my side. “Yes?”

  Muscle flexed in his cheek before he grated out, “Don’t go.”

  The words I won’t were perched on my lips. Days ago I might have accepted his offer, but I was a different person now than I had been. Being with Brynmor changed me, opened my eyes to the possibilities of the world, and I re-imagined my place within it. I could be more than a wife. I could be more than a mother. I could pursue my interests and my desires. I could be…myself.