by Reese Morgan
With death hovering constantly at her back, relaxation did not come easy.
* * * *
Hayden dreamed of a vivid, crimson ‘x’.
She dreamed of the Hunters proudly displaying their kills by painting their mark across the front doors with Lycan blood. Cowards. They had skillfully woven silk blindfolds for the werewolves and led them by a friendly hand. Only when the werewolves turned their backs, fully in trust of their new allies, did the Hunters butcher them.
There was no honor in those kills.
These killings were spineless and they were atrocious.
In her dream, Hayden walked the steps of a neighboring front porch. There, as if to mock her, was a dripping ‘x’ she’d feared from a distance.
Reaching out, she pushed the door open further.
Silence and decayed stillness greeted her like an old friend.
The prodigious scent of blood made her gums itch and her canine shift restlessly. Her wolf recognized it was not the blood of a prospective prey, but the spilled lifeblood of her own kind.
Death was a familiar occupant in the house as it walked with her across the dark foyer and into the living room. She studied the large wall clock and the ticking pendulum as it counted down the seconds.
As her eyes unfocused, Hayden dimly noted the clock turning counterclockwise. Her breathing steadily grew louder—almost deafening in her ears—and her palms dampened with sweat. Frantically, she reached for her sword, grasping at nothing but air.
Her fingers then groped for her knives.
Nothing.
She fretted and panic set in.
Vulnerability was sharp as it left her exposed and breathless.
A hand suddenly grabbed her ankle, snagging her attention. Looking down, she stared at desperate, pale blue. Nicolas. Hayden cried out, kneeling down and reaching for his shoulder. Blood pooled underneath his torso and the scent of silver was noxious.
“Nicolas…”
She shakily ran her fingers through his thick, perfect locks.
Only, as she petted him, his head dislocated from his shoulders and rolled across the floor. She screamed and his hand gripped persistently around her ankle. Warning her. Pleading with her.
The dream abruptly dissolved and Hayden jerked awake.
Sleet sprayed across her skin, somehow emphasizing the warm, sticky sweat coating her body. Her pulse raced crazily and a sick feeling settled in her stomach.
Nausea. Anxiety. Fear.
Eyes wide, she stared numbly across the woods.
Night had fallen, though Hayden knew she hadn’t slept long. Darkness clung greedily to nature, cloaking the other werewolves in deep shadows. To ward off the onslaught of sleet and snow, some of the others morphed into their canine forms and slept with their packs in a mounded heap.
The fire had warmed her earlier, yet that was a distant memory now.
Her skin was soaked, her clothes even more so.
They had camped in the same spot all day, watching as a few other werewolves trickled in. Their eyes ghostly. Their stances defeated. Hayden knew a few of the new arrivals had been inside the homes during the attack and had somehow managed to escape.
Such a cold-blooded massacre could never be unseen.
There were not many children or women. The majority of the werewolves camped around the wilderness were male. Hayden hated to think the Hunters were callous enough to kill the younger werewolves, even if they were half-canine.
The knowledge that children had died in the attack only furthered her detachment.
For most the day, the weather had remained relatively pleasant until night fell and the sleet resumed. Hayden had waited patiently for Nicolas, for Julian, but neither had arrived.
Kieran informed everyone they would move to a new location tomorrow after Cole shared his information with the other Alphas. After which, they would make a new strategy. They would brainstorm their next step.
Hayden hardly believed they could accomplish much else.
Not in their current state.
Her attention dropped to Fergus, who curled beside her. A heavy restlessness settled in her limbs and she twitched. Sleep would not come tonight.
Slowly, she stood from her position against the tree.
Fergus whimpered. Turning away from the spot she had just preoccupied, he nestled against Nathan. When Hayden and Cole refused to morph into their wolves, the rest of the pack decided to remain human as well. They would have been warmer in their fur.
She looked to Cole.
He was not asleep.
She watched him for a moment, waiting for him to open his eyes. He was not fooling her. His breathing was far too irregular and his features hardly restful.
Hayden grabbed her sword holster and shouldered it on.
Reminded of the dream, she reached behind her, relieved when her fingers groped the sword’s cold hilt. Her opposite hand plunged into the lapels of her coat, feeling the knives firmly in place.
Being fully armed was the only time she felt truly secure.
Her retreat was not quiet by any means as her boots slapped the melting snow.
The pack had grown familiar with her nocturnal habits. She was not worried about them. Cole, on the other hand, was not accustomed to her restlessness. She didn’t want him to think she was sneaking off, simply because she didn’t want him to follow.
Hayden bypassed the groups of sleeping werewolves, ignoring the grumbling in her wake. Some watched her depart, unable to sleep themselves.
As soon as she was away from the hoard of werewolves, Hayden sprinted.
Her feet hit the slush and punctured the hard, ice-covered snow. Naked branches hardly offered her much protection from the harsh elements. The sleeting rain grew nearly painful as it cut across her face and blurred her vision.
She pushed faster.
She ran until her lungs burned painfully.
Channeling her hostility, her anxiety, and her fear into her strides, Hayden felt her mind calm. Sitting still and resting was no longer an option for her in terms of mental meditation. When her body was exhausted, so was her mind.
As she vaulted over a patch of knee-deep snow, she felt the atmosphere shift.
A low, threatening snarl sounded and something large shot out behind her. When she turned, her sword was already in hand. Her hopes soared at a possible confrontation.
It would serve as another needed release.
Only, it was not an enemy.
Nicolas remained crouched behind her, a solid buffer between her and Cole, who had clearly followed her from camp. The eldest Slayter undoubtedly spied her through the trees and honed in on a figure following in close proximity.
The two males sized the other, both too taken aback at the other’s appearance to lower their hostile guard. Cole had dropped nearer to the ground, a half-stance similar to his brother, though upon recognizing his opponent, he turned motionless.
Hayden watched the two, feeling her dread rise. She was relieved Nicolas made it back safely, but she sensed an impending confrontation.
Her attention flickered as the scent of other individuals flooded the woods.
Looking deeper into the trees, she immediately spied others lingering in the area Nicolas had just come from. Julian stood in the lead. With a grave expression, he waved the others forward. Hayden watched in disbelief as a few women and children ventured forward, as well as a few males.
Nicolas’ pale gaze traced over his brother closely. Upon realizing Cole was not a threat, he straightened. “Go to the others,” he ordered Julian. “I will be there shortly.”
No longer possessing his trademark arrogance, Julian looked hauntingly at Hayden. His lips thinned, as if he wanted to say something, but he thought better of it.
Obediently following Nicolas’ orders, Julian led the group of werewolves up the hill, back where Hayden came from. She couldn’t help but marvel at the sight.
Nicolas had no doubt saved them.
Nicol
as, the very same man who claimed he never wanted to be a hero.
Her eyes fell onto his turned back, wanting nothing more than to touch him. She kept her distance, however, already sensing the rising tension between him and Cole.
“Words are truly failing me,” Nicolas confessed as soon as the other werewolves disappeared. “After all this time, Cole? You were not in jeopardy?”
“One could argue I was constantly in danger of being found out.”
Nicolas exhaled quietly in bitter amusement. His fingers adjusted his coat collar, tightening it around himself. “I confess myself both impressed with your audacity to play a part so well and angry you chose to keep it from us… from her.”
Hayden’s spine stiffened at his heated words.
“I got the idea from you.” Cole smiled cynically. “After all, you played a role by killing our mother and pretending to be Celeste’s right-hand man.”
“Celeste has no right-hand man. You didn’t get much information from her, did you?” He stood tall opposite his brother, his tone chilling and turning into something Hayden hadn’t heard for quite some time.
In the presence of his brother, Nicolas always assumed to role of the antagonist, the villain. Nevertheless, Hayden knew, without a doubt, that Nicolas served as his brother’s guardian on many occasions.
However, that did not mean they liked one another.
Did their dislike for one another originate from Nicolas’ earlier confession? He claimed he had been very close to his mother. Did he despise Cole because he had to murder his mother in order to protect him?
Alternatively, maybe Nicolas strived to keep Cole on his toes, dancing. Now that Xavier wasn’t around to train his son, perhaps Nicolas assumed the role by being devil’s advocate. He’d often played that role with Hayden, always pushing her, infuriating her.
All just to make her better.
She watched the two males closely.
Perhaps it wasn’t so deep-seated. Maybe their tension came from the fact they were both males, dominant, and Alphas. They saw each other as direct competition.
“I did not take on the role of gaining Celeste’s trust, just her willingness to turn a blind eye,” Cole countered neutrally. “A mindless soldier is an easier role to play than a conniving assassin.”
Nicolas inclined his head. “Perhaps you’re right. I am relieved to see you back, Cole. Truly. There is much more we need to discuss.” His attention wavered before he looked back at her. “But I have kept Hayden waiting long enough.”
The eldest Slayter’s gaze was fixated, his attention honed only on her. It was if he no longer deemed Cole worthwhile. Somehow, even after being with him so long, he still managed to leave her breathless with his intimate and exclusive attention.
His eyes traced over her face, searching, seeing.
Abruptly, he motioned further into the woods before disappearing through the trees. He expected her to follow, obviously. She watched him until she could no longer see him. Looking back at Cole, she balked at his mocking expression.
“Follow him, Hayden,” he commanded, lifting his eyebrows derisively.
Hayden did not give him the satisfaction of a response.
Sending him a rather sour look, she placed her sword back in her holster and followed Nicolas. She could feel Cole’s stare, hot and heavy on her back. Deciding it was better for everyone involved, she did not look back.
Nicolas was waiting for her when she descended a small hill.
His back was stiff, his shoulders thrown back, and his eyes watched her every move with a cruel, domineering light. “Who would have imagined you’d already be out taking midnight strolls with your lifemate?”
Hardly deterred at his attempt of intimidation, Hayden stopped opposite of him. Rain slid effortlessly down her nose as she took a solid stance and stared at him tiredly.
“You missed the part where we frolicked in the woods, nude.”
His eyes flashed at her cynicism.
“It is not my nature to overlook something like this, Hayden.”
She laughed once. No true humor. “I imagine it wouldn’t be.”
Nicolas observed her closely, his aristocratic features sharp and prominent in the murky light. He was the vision of a dark savior. Handsome and flawless on the outside, but even his baby blue eyes were a window to the darkness and devilishness on the inside.
Hayden could admire and relate to such decayed purity.
Each day, she admired that trait of Nicolas even more, simply because she felt as if it mirrored her own, festering flaws. Others recognized it, though they could not identify with it. They shrunk back in fear from Nicolas, not trusting a man who carried such depravity with grace and control.
She wanted to be like Nicolas.
She wanted to accept this darkness growing inside her instead of having it consume her. She wanted to carry it with confidence and harness it into submission.
Right now, she felt as if she were drowning.
Nicolas took his hands out from his coat pockets and stepped closer to her. His gaze focused intently on her, seeing nothing but her. Always her.
Only her.
He reached out, his fingers warm as they traced her frozen jawline. Something shifted in his expression, a certain softness that eased the cruel lines across his face. A small, nearly unobtrusive smile graced his lips as he cupped her face with both hands.
Angling her head just right, he pressed his lips firmly against hers.
Hayden allowed herself to fall into him. She absorbed his strength and made it her own. His heat became hers. Reaching out, she fisted his coat, bringing him flush against her.
Nicolas exhaled through his nose before deepening the kiss.
He held her captive, controlling the kiss and channeling as much affection as he was able. His tongue claimed her bottom lip slyly before slipping inside her mouth with masculine confidence and a strong sense of ownership.
One of his hands left her face and curled at the nape of her neck, running soothing circles near her pulse point. Dimly, Hayden remembered Cole had marked her there earlier, had tried to erase some of Nicolas’ scent.
Nicolas merely reaffirmed his claim.
He pulled back, keeping a firm hold on her chin and angling her face up to him. Carefully, he examined her features before focusing near her left cheekbone. Wordlessly, he reached up and ran his thumb over the tender skin.
It was where Evan had punched her, fracturing a few bones in her face. The area constantly tingled as it tried to heal, though Hayden was sure the skin remained discolored.
“Evan,” she explained when Nicolas turned his questioning eyes on her.
A noticeable knot of tension appeared in his jawline. “Is he taken care of?”
“Cole,” she admitted.
“I am sorry I couldn’t be there for you,” he apologized, his tone heavy with displeasure. “Though I am thankful Cole was able to help you.”
His hands dropped down to her shoulders and ran down her arms. His warm fingers found her frozen hands and wrapped firmly around them, instantly warming her and returning the feeling to her skin.
He stood there firmly, his larger body preventing the sleet from assaulting her.
With Nicolas, not many words needed to be said. Their silent connection allowed them to bask in the other’s presence and always recognize what the other was feeling. Hayden knew Nicolas was tired and weary, though he wasn’t suffering. He’d saved lives, though if she were to ask him about it, he would deny his involvement.
She knew, just as well, he recognized her pain. It was in the way he held her hands. A firm reminder he was there now and she was not alone.
Hayden leaned forward and placed her cheek against his chest. “Don’t ever leave me behind again.” Her voice was firm and strong despite the whirlwind of anguish inside her.
She was referring to his order to stay back while he went and confronted Celeste’s men outside the gated community. His order had blindsided her a
t the time. Ordering Hayden to stay behind and out of danger was not the foundation of their relationship
Nicolas grabbed her firmly, pressing her into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, sheltering and cloaking her with his enduring presence.
He placed his head on top of hers.
“I missed you fighting alongside me,” he murmured deeply. “I’ve learned my lesson. It will not happen again, my dear.”
She hid her smirk into his coat as he appeased her. “Thank you.”
“You’re freezing.” He managed to make his observation sharp with disapproval. Pulling back, he assessed her critically. “Let me talk briefly with the Alphas and then we will get some sleep. You need to shift.”
“It leaves me too vulnerable,” she argued.
Nicolas’ lashes lowered and his aura darkened. “I will be there with you.”
Hayden stood solitarily, looking at his outstretched hand. She then looked back into the woods. She didn’t want to sleep. She especially didn’t want to shift in her canine form and be without easy access to her weapons.
However…
Turning back, she looked up at Nicolas.
He regarded her patiently, appearing as if he’d wait there for an eternity for her decision. His expression, however, morphed into predator amusement, as if he were challenging her to take that risk and confront her fears.
Never one to back down to one of Nicolas’ challenges, Hayden grabbed his hand firmly. He pulled her up beside him and they made the trek back to camp together.
16. Chapter Sixteen
The weather had improved significantly by the next morning. Frozen rain no longer assaulted them from the sky and the sun made a rare appearance. After such a good night’s rest, Hayden felt as if she could have endured another day of sleet.
Once Hayden had shifted last night, Nicolas’ onyx wolf had rolled protectively around her, embracing her and generating enough heat for the both of them.
She hadn’t remembered sleeping so well before.
The nightmares had tempered, so had her shifty anxiety.
“Here.”