by Reese Morgan
His blood was warm, too warm as it poured over her fingers.
Still, she kept sawing.
She had no strength to behead him. She couldn’t get a good angle and her vision swarmed. And then she saw Asher. And Addie. And all the others without their heads.
No. No. She couldn’t do it any longer.
Not like this.
Her foot slammed into the puppet’s groin. The hand opened up around her throat and she went down hard, breathing and gasping. Rolling away from the reaching hand, Hayden threw her legs out, tangling the man midstride.
He was like a walking, crimson geyser.
He was bleeding from his stomach, the back of his neck, and his calves. Yet, despite all those lethal wounds, his vision tunneled with nothing but nauseating obedience.
Hayden sprung up as he descended towards the ground.
With his downward momentum and her leap from the ground, Hayden clutched her sword with both hands and beheaded him as he fell into her. His body continued to fall and she hurriedly pushed it aside, feeling something inside her squirm.
She hardly celebrated her victory.
From the corner of her eye, she saw movement that drew her immediate attention.
In the mirror across the living room, Hayden saw a familiar woman digging into the kitchen drawers and pulling out a large pistol. The woman then approached Nicolas and Julian, completely unaware of Hayden’s presence further into the room.
Taking advantage of the woman’s ignorance, Hayden dodged around the corner, looping around the living room and entering the kitchen from behind.
Across the room, Nicolas and Julian had finally taken down the last puppet together.
Hayden’s attention landed on the petite woman, obsessively tracing over the pert features and the small mole at the corner of her eye. It was her. It really was Liz. The same, chocolate-colored hair and the same proud shoulders.
Hayden spent days with this woman, always admiring, always treasuring.
“Nicolas,” Elizabeth said in way of greeting. “Celeste warned me about your betrayal. I could believe you would deceive her, but I couldn’t believe you’d be so stupid to join the losing side. Yet… here you are.”
Nicolas turned, glancing first at Elizabeth and then to her weapon. He seemed utterly unconcerned. “I have my reasons for joining the traditional wolves.”
Hayden’s approach was silent.
Pressing the tip of her sword against the back of Elizabeth’s neck, Hayden watched as the other woman stiffened. She gazed steadily at her aunt, her hold on her sword firm. Over Elizabeth’s head, she caught a brief glimpse of the reflection in the mirror.
Blood and sweat caked her face while her features remained impassively stubborn. She hardly recognized the person staring back at her.
Elizabeth exhaled. “Hayden.”
“Yes, she is one reason for my participation,” Nicolas murmured.
Elizabeth shook her head as if disgusted. She then readied her stance and emphasized her aim when Julian made a slight movement. “I will shoot.”
“Put down the weapon,” Hayden ordered.
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, Hayden.” Elizabeth refused to lower her weapon, just as Hayden refused to relinquish her aim. “You’re allying yourself with a man who is all about self-interests, a boy who is far too immature to acknowledge the true sacrifices in life, and a father who’d abandon his family to achieve his decadent goals.”
“And an aunt who willingly threw her human niece out to the wolves,” Hayden whispered, referring to the night Tracer Sired her. “My, we’re a misfit group, aren’t we?”
“If I had to do it over, I would have never agreed to risk your life for Celeste.” Elizabeth sighed. “You deserved a human life. A normal life.”
“Everything you say is a lie.”
“Our relationship may have been based on a lie, but my love for you—”
“Stop,” Hayden growled, pressing the sword more resolutely against her neck. She didn’t want to hear those words. She couldn’t handle them. “Drop the weapon. If you truly feel remorse, you’ll surrender.”
Elizabeth did not surrender.
“Look...” Hayden moved her blade and kissed the cold metal against Elizabeth’s cheek. She turned the woman’s head towards the broken window. “We already have you surrounded and we’ve defeated the men keeping guard.”
A very deep part of her conscience knew she was trying to persuade Elizabeth to surrender simply because she did not want to kill her. Ever since Hayden was a small child, the woman had always been a constant in her life.
Though the betrayal was hot and fresh, she still felt love for her aunt.
Killing her was the last thing Hayden wanted to do, but she’d do it.
Especially when Elizabeth focused purposefully on Nicolas. The brunette’s finger tightened on the trigger and her breathing came out in short gasps. A sense of strong and unexplainable protectiveness surged hotly through Hayden.
She saw red.
Her hackles rose and her fingers tightened on the hilt of her sword.
“I’m sorry, Hayden—”
Just as the gun fired, Hayden drew back her sword and drove it into the woman’s chest. Nicolas dodged hastily, the silver bullet embedding into the wall where he’d just been standing.
Elizabeth fell forward, face down onto the kitchen floor.
A silver blade through the chest would kill her almost instantly, but not quick enough to muffle the sad, broken sob from her throat. Hayden stood above her, staring unseeingly at the thick, crimson liquid as it expanded across the linoleum floor.
Nicolas stooped low and grabbed the handgun, pointing it at her head.
He fired once, putting her out of her misery.
“I couldn’t decapitate another person,” Hayden said unfeelingly.
“Decapitation is perhaps the fastest and easiest way to grant an enemy mercy.” Nicolas placed the handgun into his coat pocket, maintaining steadfast attention on Hayden. “Whether they deserve it or not, it may provide you a semblance of deliverance.”
A commotion near the front door drew their attention.
Kieran threw a woman into the house. She stumbled on her feet before falling ungracefully to the ground. Her scent immediately branded her as human.
“We found her trying to escape through the woods.”
Hayden approached the woman, observing her like the others. She appeared young, possibly in her early thirties. She looked frightened—horrified—of the werewolves surrounding her. As Hayden approached, she seemed relieved at another female’s presence.
“Please, I haven’t done anything wrong.”
She pleaded with Hayden as if Hayden was actually a savior.
With the amount of blood on her hands, Hayden felt no better than her enemies.
A lifetime ago, Hayden would have helped her to her feet and brought her somewhere without so many judgmental eyes and dead bodies. Instead, Hayden lifted her sword and pointed it at the human’s face, only intensifying her fear.
“What are you doing here?” she asked quietly.
The woman sobbed.
Hayden remained unmoved with the show of emotion and simply waited for a response. Julian stopped next to her, fortunately not saying anything.
“I was hired by Elizabeth,” the human managed to say between her tears.
“For what purpose?”
The woman’s ash-colored hair fell from the messy pony at the base of her neck and veiled her snot and tear-covered face. “To monitor Logan’s condition and vitals. I put him in a medically-induced coma.”
Hayden looked at Nicolas.
The man gave a small nod, easily recognizing her silent inquiry.
Tersely, she moved her sword away from the human and crouched down. “And can you reverse what you’ve done?”
The human nodded mutely.
“How long will it take for him to wake up?”
Whatever ex
pression Hayden wore clearly did not put the human at ease.
The woman looked down again with purposeful submission. “A few hours to a few days,” she said shakily. “A werewolf’s regenerating system is rapid. He can recover quickly once the silver and barbiturate drugs are out of his system.”
The human might have been innocent in all this, but she was still responsible for Logan’s current condition. Yet, she was also the woman who could bring Logan out of his unconsciousness.
“You will try to speed up the process as much as possible. When and if he gets out of his coma, we will let you go.”
Hayden lied.
She didn’t think the males would ever let this woman go. She knew too much, of both Celeste and the werewolf community. They would never allow a high-risk human to escape back to civilization with such knowledge under her belt.
Nonetheless, the woman stood slowly, as if wary Hayden would attack.
Remaining crouched, Hayden nodded to Julian, a silent plea. Her brother didn’t seem pleased at the request, though he turned his heel and accompanied the woman downstairs without a protest.
“We lost two men,” Kieran informed once they were out of earshot. “Falco is wounded and will need attention. We all need to rejuvenate. I think it’s best if we stay put for now and take turns watching the perimeter.”
“It would be best,” Nicolas agreed. “Everything we need is here.”
Hayden stood up and sheathed her sword. “I’ll take first watch.”
She pushed past Kieran and out the door, purposely avoiding looking in Nicolas’ direction. He could see through her, and right now, she just wanted to remain unseen.
10. Chapter Ten
Hours later, a recovering Falco volunteered to guard the human nurse as she worked on reviving Logan. Kieran, Timothy, and Julian all ate, rested, and were now securing the perimeter of Elizabeth’s territory.
After hours of watching the perimeter alone, Hayden had readily volunteered to stay with them, but Nicolas had pulled her away. He told her it was her turn to rest and eat.
She wasn’t hungry, nor was she tired.
Slumped over in an armchair, she contemplated the bottle of brandy. The brandy, along with a wide-variety of other liquors, all sat upon a small cart in the corner of the master suite. Before the two armchairs, a fire roared aggressively in the small fireplace, warming her thoroughly.
At her back, a large, expansive bed with luxury sheets lay invitingly.
Hayden didn’t remember the last time she slept in a bed.
Especially such an extravagant bed.
To her left, the sound of a shower ran. Nicolas was inside, the last one to take advantage of warm, running water and the strong-smelling soaps. Hayden had taken hers just minutes earlier, her hair still soaked from the lavish rinse.
The shower had taken her mind off many things, including her sore, tired body. As soon as she stepped out, however, the cloud of grief and melancholy instantly returned.
How was she supposed to cope with the burden of her aunt’s death?
Her mind was rather numb and void, her feelings more so. Elizabeth had actively betrayed both Hayden and Logan. She’d also put herself in a precarious situation by agreeing to house Logan’s comatose body under Celeste’s orders.
Hayden closed her eyes and inhaled, smelling her aunt’s presence in the bedroom.
Elizabeth had also threatened to kill both Nicolas and Julian. That act alone left Hayden feeling emotionless when she should be feeling more.
It was similar to Nicolas decapitating a werewolf just for threatening her. Hayden knew she should be feeling something other than apathy, it bothered her she wasn’t feeling more, yet she could not muster up the necessary feelings of regret and guilt.
She’d kill Elizabeth again if she had to do it over.
Standing from the armchair, Hayden lazily approached the cart of booze. As she passed the hearth, her hand reached yearningly towards the fire. Her skin burned pleasantly and the coldness that had seeped permanently in her bones thawed away.
She poured herself a small bit of brandy and sipped it.
She didn’t like the taste, hated it even, but she delighted in the burn.
In the relaxant.
Fondly, she reminisced Troy Arnold and his moonshine. For all the things he’d seen in his lifetime, for all the mistakes that damned him, she did not blame the man for his guilty pleasures.
“Self-medication is not the answer.”
Hayden scoffed at him, bitterly amused. “It could be self-medication if the buzz actually lasted longer than a few minutes for werewolves.” She grimaced. “And when are you one to lecture me about what’s right and wrong?”
A hand curled around hers, cupping her fingers.
Deliberately, he forced her to lower the glass. “Tonight, I am feeling a bit more protective.”
She didn’t fight him.
She hadn’t liked the taste anyway.
Turning towards him, Hayden appreciated his asphyxiating presence. He had a way of drawing in the warmth around him and using it to cloak her in a protective embrace. He was not a warm individual, quite cruel by default, but that’s what made him appealing.
To her, anyway.
She observed his bare arms. Though he was dressed, she hardly ever saw him without several layers. With his shirt rolled up to his elbows, his defined forearms were exposed. As their arms crossed, side by side, she couldn’t help but marvel at how much bigger he was, how much more powerful.
“There are things I know I should say to ease what you’re going through,” Nicolas confessed quietly.
She looked up at him, unabashedly staring at his well-defined features. “Being with you is good enough. Sometimes words feel empty to me anyway.”
Nicolas’ jaw clenched noticeably and he reached up to run the pads of his fingers across her cheekbone. The touch was so gentle she could have imagined it.
“I can’t tell you that things get any easier, you just become jaded to it all.”
“Is that what you are?” she asked. “Jaded?”
“For many things. Yes.”
Her lips twitched, though she didn’t find any humor in his admittance. “You hide your feelings very well, but I still know some situations affect you very much.”
Specifically, she remembered what happened to Cole.
Nicolas had been so persistent playing her savior at the time, he had worn a mask of invincibility. Despite all that, she’d seen underneath the strong armor. Nicolas felt as if he’d failed miserably protecting his brother.
He dropped his hand from her face, his blue eyes bright and animated. “I am not denying that, which is why I refrain from forming too many attachments.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“I enjoy the isolation.” He regarded her closely. “I’d rather feel the sting of seclusion over the deep, gut-wrenching pain of losing loved ones.”
His declaration made her pause, if only because she was unable to breathe past the sorrow lodged in her throat. His words were the very same words she’d said herself, about herself, only, they sounded incredibly wretched spoken aloud.
They sounded broken.
Nicolas turned away and Hayden grabbed his wrist.
As he turned back toward her, she stood on her toes and cradled his baby-smooth face.
Her eyes closed and she hesitantly pressed her lips against his.
He was so tall. Her hands roamed over his broad shoulders, grasping at anything to give her balance. She broke the chaste kiss and inhaled his neck, finding pleasure in his warm, familiar scent underneath the clean-smelling soap.
Her lips traced his jugular and she delighted in feeling him stiffen.
“Hayden.”
She smiled against his throat as she felt the hard band of muscles through his shirt.
His arms wrapped around her immediately, pressing her close to him. A large hand settled between her shoulder blades, nearly taking up the entirety of her ba
ck. His palm ran seductively down her spine and curled around her hips and waist.
In turn, she arched into him, intrigued.
A moment later, he pulled back and nudged her away.
“Do not start something you cannot finish, Hayden.”
She blinked, startled at his reaction. “Nicolas—”
“You’re in grief right now.” He took another step back, his features unrelentingly upset. “I shouldn’t take advantage of your state right now, but if you insisted, I would not stop or feel guilty for my actions. You, however, would feel devastated afterward.”
She followed his retreat, frustrated he’d even consider her advances grief-related. “What I do feel is humiliated that you think so lowly of me.”
He scoffed. “Do you not think I know how you feel? About Cole?”
Hayden didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You know me well enough to recognize my attraction to you, Nicolas. It’s been there for as long as I can remember.”
She understood that Nicolas had his own vulnerabilities on the subject of Cole. He might act nonchalant and dismissive, but perhaps he was battling with the realities of finalizing their intimacy just as much as Hayden was.
“I want to be with you,” Hayden said firmly. “Don’t make me beg.”
His eyes flashed vehemently. “You never need to beg for my attention.”
Reaching out, his hands curled around her shoulders. He tightened his grip and then loosened it, as if uncertain what to do with her.
Rather unexpectedly, he shoved her against the wall and loomed in front of her.
She sagged against the wall, her pulse hammering pathetically as he hovered over her, their lips so close, yet not touching. For a moment, his close proximity and intensity intimidated her. His powerful aura darkened her, cloaked her entirely.
Shadows danced across his aristocratic features, wild, animalistic shadows.
They stared at one another in silence for a moment, both sizing the other. His pale gaze then dropped to her mouth and he leaned forward, lightly teasing her lips.
Hayden moved to deepen the kiss, but a hand promptly curled around her throat and pressed her more firmly against the wall. Dark amusement shrouded his eyes as he looked down at her. His expression said it all.