He vanished before she could push him for more. Part of her wondered if he might be psychic. It would explain the things he knew with such certainty.
And she’d just pissed him off.
Great.
She absently straightened the nearest bed, tucking the disturbed blanket around the young kid again. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.
It was time to earn her keep.
Chapter Fifteen
“It’s time to eat.”
Those were the first words her silent shadow had spoken since she’d used her magic on him. It might have been wrong of her, but she had to know if he was a threat. Now she wondered if she’d made an enemy of the man who was supposed to be her protector.
He hadn’t taken his eyes off her since the incident. The speculation in them had nothing to do with romance. She was almost glad he’d broken the silence between them.
Trina lifted her head and rubbed her neck, taking stock of her surroundings. The line had reduced drastically in the few hours since she’d started drawing blood and jotting down medical histories. There were at least another dozen to go.
Some of the men were friendly, while others refused to speak a word more than what was needed. The names and faces grew jumbled in her mind, so she knew it was time for a break.
“He’s right.” Glenda came to her side and nudged her away. “I’ll take over.”
With her hands empty, she clenched them, uncertain what to do with herself. “You’ll send the findings to my room and those of the current patients?”
“Of course.” Glenda smiled and pushed her toward the door. “Go eat. I can handle things here.”
“Come.” Weston walked toward the door and held it open for her, but not before scanning the hallway.
She’d done that action so often in the last few months that she recognized his hypersensitivity. Although her mind told her it was foolish to rely on someone else, she found herself relaxing. This man wouldn’t miss anything.
She grabbed her satchel and followed.
Once they left the lab, the silence stretched out before them. “I’m sorry, but I had to know if you were a threat.” She shrugged. “I didn’t know of another way.”
He gave her an inscrutable look. “You could’ve asked.”
Trina blinked at the statement and fiddled with her ring, feeling foolish that his answer hadn’t even occurred to her. “Would you have told me? I’m not able to detect lies. My magic doesn’t work that way.” Not without it taking its pound of flesh. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
He remained silent for a while then gave a single nod. “If I wanted you, I could’ve grabbed you at any time during the last year.”
She couldn’t fault his logic, kicking herself for not thinking of it. If the pack had been expecting her, she would’ve been caught a lot sooner. She’d been on her own too long, seeing trouble when there was none. If she didn’t curb them, her suspicions were going to ruin the rest of her stay.
The massive hallway reminded her of castles of old, where knights in full armor roamed the hallways. “Why is everything built so big? I mean, most of the shifters are larger than life, but are you hiding giants that I don’t know about?”
A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “Not quite. The halls were built with both humans and animals in mind. Think of two large, six-hundred pound cats walking down the hall. There’s barely enough room for you to get out of the way in time.”
Trina blinked at him, uncertain if he was yanking her chain. She hadn’t seen many shifters in their animal form and none since she’d arrived at Den. Since most people knew little of shifters, it wasn’t a common occurrence in the real world either. “That’s why the floors and walls are stones. Claws would tear up normal floors.” Then she gulped. “Do animals often roam these halls?”
His smile turned cryptic, and he didn’t answer. They headed up the stairs to another wide hallway decorated with paintings of wars gone by.
Curiosity got the better of her as door after door flashed by. “Can you give me a layout of the house?” When he remained tight-lipped, she prodded him. “So I don’t get in trouble.”
A heavy sigh escaped him. “The basement is set up as the med area. There are a few emergency entrances, either guarded or locked by the security system. The codes are changed regularly to restrict access.
“This main level contains the mess hall at the rear.” The hallway opened up and branched off to three different areas. They took the passage to the right, and headed toward the back. Laughter erupted from behind them, and she arched a brow at him.
“The rec room covers the front of the house. Most of the shifters gather there during their down time. It’s harder for anyone to enter without someone knowing. Reading area, library, TV, videos, games, pool table.
“The rest of the men, when not here or on patrol, remain in the barracks outside. Sleeping quarters for guests are on the second floor, along with the training rooms.”
“The third level has the bedrooms for the higher-ups and the Leo’s personal living space. The alpha’s personal guards stay on the third floor as well.”
Voices sounded in front of them and she knew her tour was coming to an end. “And you and your men?”
“We stay in the barracks.”
Then she understood. Even if his men were offered a place in the house, they would refuse. He said they were mercenaries. They couldn’t afford to become attached or pledged to one specific pack if they wanted to remain impartial warriors. So they would stay outside and roam the grounds and beyond.
They might have wandered to her front doorstep, but they came back because they considered her an outsider, someone like them.
The mess hall was packed. A clear division of shifters gathered at the different tables, the noise raucous as they threw taunts at each other.
Until they caught sight of her.
Feeling very conspicuous, Trina followed Weston’s lead and headed toward the food. Curiosity touched some of the men, while hostility radiated from others, and she surveyed them cautiously. Though there was tension, they stood united, and she realized that she missed being part of a group that just accepted you.
Energy whirled in the room. It was flavored like magic but with a slightly different tang, and she realized it rose from the shifters themselves. It was the feel of their beasts. She fisted her hand as the power around her thickened, battering against her like a persistent mosquito.
When she inhaled, some of the magic burned down her throat and spilled into her lungs. Her chest tightened. Air became thick like water. She blew out a heavy breath, and the magic swirled away from her, brushing over the people.
She blinked and blinked a second time as her sight altered to allow her to peer below the surface of their human flesh to see the animal beneath.
Holy shit.
Her magic must have cast a spell of its own accord as if to protect her. Curiosity got the best of her, and she glanced around the room again.
The table that glared daggers was comprised mostly of wolves. Judith’s leftovers, no doubt.
Seeing one reality superimposed over another in a sort of double vision created a dull throbbing beat behind her eyes. The pressure built the longer she used the spell. When she stumbled over smooth floor, she knew now was not the time to play with her new power and reluctantly let it go.
Her vision dulled, shapes blurred. She nearly ran smack into Weston’s back.
“You all right?”
She gave him a bright smile, his face a fuzzy blob. “Sure.”
He grabbed her arm above the elbow, his grip just short of brutal. “Sit.”
Trina allowed him to guide her, too grateful for the support when her vision faded completely black. She plopped her ass down as directed, blindly reaching out and touching the table in front of her. The total darkness only lasted a few seconds before the colors burst back into view, but she hated being so vulnerable, especially in a room full of shif
ters.
Great first impression, Trina. She couldn’t imagine what the others thought of her entrance.
“Here.” Weston pushed a glass of water into her hands, her shaky fingers automatically curling around the cup. She hadn’t even seen him leave.
Then she realized he hadn’t when she saw another man standing behind him. The boy was younger, but she recognized him as one of Weston’s people.
“I haven’t eaten in a while, that’s all. I’ll be fine.” She brushed away their concern. It wasn’t a lie exactly. She hadn’t eaten since last night at the gym. That just wasn’t what caused her to falter.
Weston narrowed his eyes as if sensing more, but didn’t dispute her claim. “Grab us some food.”
The man snapped to attention and marched away at a fast clip.
“Not even a concubine for a day, and she already demands shifters do her bidding.” Weston didn’t bristle, didn’t move as his gaze tracked the source of the comment.
She didn’t need to turn to know it was the wolves, antagonism radiating from them like poison.
“Don’t.” She resisted grabbing Weston’s arm, knowing better than to restrict his movements any more than necessary. Voices quieted and people subtly shifted, taking sides.
She gauged the distance to the door.
Too far.
She and Weston were on their own.
She’d survived on her own for years. She could survive here, too. She shoved her hand in her satchel, her fingers closing around the handle of her amathe. A familiar hum of recognition settled under her fingers, and she forced her muscles loose and ready.
No one else reached for their weapons, and she realized only Weston and his men carried them. Not that shifters needed metal to be considered deadly.
It might not be fair to bring a knife to a fistfight, but when the opponent had ten razor sharp claws and fangs to boot, screw fair.
Dishes clattered to the floor and Trina whirled, coming to her feet, pulling her weapon free. Nervous titters echoed in the room, and a few of the wolves guffawed. The man Weston had sent to retrieve their food stood with an empty tray, no doubt courtesy of the wolves.
The first fist flew, and in a matter of seconds, everyone was in motion as if they’d forgotten everything at the prospect of a fight. The speed was frightening. Weston barked sharp orders and a couple of men cleared a path with a protective wall of muscle, edging her toward a door.
But those men took a brutal beating. They gave as good as they got, but they were hampered by trying to maintain a circle around her. She fought claustrophobia as bodies pressed closer. Half of the men grinned while exchanging blows as if they enjoyed the chance to brawl.
Fear faded as adrenaline kicked in, keeping her ready to act. Most of the shifters stayed human, although she did see some of the wolves bulked up, their fingers more claws than hands as they slashed their way through the crowd.
Then one man in her group went down, and the protective circle became a line. Her back was exposed. The fighting grew closer. Bodies slammed into one another, growls echoed in the room, their human throats producing eerie, animal like sounds.
When she turned, it was in time to see an arm swing back. An elbow rammed the bridge of her cheekbone hard enough for her eyes to water. Vision blurred, vulnerable in the mass of bodies, she did the only thing she could.
She dropped to her knees and scuttled toward the door. The few men who threatened to step on her received a little jab from her knife for their trouble.
Then her whole body chilled, a familiar sensation that had kept her alive the last couple of weeks while on the run. Something was coming fast. It was heading in her direction, but no one else seemed to notice.
A deep-throated roar resounded in the hallway, a battle cry that warned everyone in the vicinity that the alpha was not happy, and they’d better start running.
* * *
Merrick watched the door to his office, not hearing a word anyone said as he half-expected Trina to burst into the room. He hated that he’d been forced to leave her alone with only her guard.
With another man.
The beast in him prowled its cage, seeking release. The lion was so close to the surface that his skin rippled, the pain almost crippling. Merrick welcomed the change, but no matter how much he willed it, his beast didn’t take form.
Ever since he’d left the lab he hadn’t felt right and with each passing moment, the sensation grew. He had to get to Trina. He fiddled with the hat he’d appropriated from her, but even her scent didn’t calm him this time.
Victor stepped into his line of sight and blocked the doorway. Merrick almost lunged at him. Then he became aware of the silence in the room.
“Oh, leave the boy alone.” The panther waved Victor away. “If I had a new concubine, I would’ve cancelled all my appointments for a week.” The old man smiled and crossed his arms over the little bulge of his gut. His black hair, part of his panther heritage, was streaked gray. For someone over a hundred and thirty years old, he didn’t look a day over forty-eight. “Why don’t we reschedule for next week.”
Merrick stood slowly, aware of all the eyes on him. He tried to convince himself that he had nothing to worry about. She was protected by a pack of wolves. The knowledge was a double-edged sword, but Weston and his men would not be swayed by Judith and her pack.
It didn’t matter.
His lion urged him to get his ass moving.
As if to prove his point, Beast pressed heavily against his skin until it felt like it would split. He trusted his animal’s instincts and gave a grateful nod to the old panther who had ruled his pack for generations. “Next week.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, hated that they saw his reaction to Trina. At least they assumed it was because he wanted to bed her. He did, in the worst way, but he needed to see for himself that she was safe.
They were on the second level when the sounds of fighting reached him. He quickly altered course and picked up speed. He inhaled deeply and called his animal to the surface, uncaring of the pain ricocheting through his back.
His body mass increased. Claws ripped through his fingertips, and his fangs descended.
Trina was in danger, possibly fighting for her life.
He didn’t know how he knew, but he didn’t question the knowledge.
Not bothering with the stairs, he launched himself over the railing of the balcony. The landing jarred his injury, but he was up and moving in seconds.
A few shifters loitered in the hallway, some joining in the fray. Those who saw him scrambled out of his path. He didn’t give a choice to the others, but picked them up and tossed them aside.
Victor inched his way to his right and shoved a few more out of their path.
But it wasn’t enough.
He wasn’t going to get to her in time.
A roar ripped free from his throat, and all the men around him froze mid-punch. Most didn’t even bother to turn, but dove out of the way and a narrow path emerged before him.
He entered the mess hall, his gaze quickly scanning the room. The fervor in him grew. Beast was ready to rip through anyone who got in his way as he searched for Trina.
A wisp of wildflowers reached him, and the lion in him zeroed in on the scent. He took a step when that haunting smell vanished.
The animal in him roared, the sound of it rumbling in his chest. He stepped forward, nearly tripping over…
He glanced down to see Trina’s retreating form scuttling around a table as if to avoid him. She was the only thing moving in the room, but she did it in such a way that drew attention away from her.
He lumbered closer, the men parting before him until he stood before her.
She froze, one hand raised, halting inches from his foot. In her other hand rested her blade.
A bloodied blade.
Rage and fierce pride collided. Pride that she could defend herself against warriors twice her size and rage that she needed to protect herself from the very pe
ople who were supposed to keep her safe.
Trina craned her head back to look at him, leaving her neck exposed. The image of her so submissive before him sent his mind from fight to fuck so fast that even his animal gave pause.
But it was not a pose he wanted his men to see. It was private between them, and he vowed to see her that way again of her own free will.
He bent, grabbed her upper arms and lifted.
And froze, her body suspended in air, when he got a good look at her face. Fury called up his beast. Rational thought retreated at the need to rend everyone to pieces.
“It was a small scuffle. No harm. Fun.” Her voice squeaked on the last word.
He appreciated that she wasn’t afraid standing before him, his body half-shifted, when grown men had been known to cower.
The brilliant smile she cast him nearly had him swallowing his tongue at the sheer sexiness. He wanted to strip her bare and see her wearing nothing but that smile.
Then his attention sharpened when she winced, the bruise on her face standing out sharply against her pale face.
“Who?”
The rough growl was the first word he’d spoken since he’d entered. Desperate not to be caught in the middle of another fight, Trina placed her hand on his chest. “Put me down.”
The scowl on his face deepened, and she thought he’d refused. But when he lowered her, she realized she’d made a tactical mistake. With his hands free, he grabbed the nearest shifter and hauled him off his feet, the anger so fierce she wondered if he planned to rip the poor guy’s head off.
Trina ducked under his arms, and tucked herself up close to his body. He stopped, undecided, but ultimately shoved the other man away from her.
“Since you all enjoy fighting, training rosters are doubled for the next week.” A few men grumbled, but no one dared voice a protest, not even to groan. “Leave.”
The room was deserted in under a minute. For such big men, they could sure move.
Trina hauled ass toward the door when Merrick appeared before her as if out of thin air.
“Not you.”
She bit her lips at his ominous tone. His face hadn’t eased, if anything, he appeared more intense. The menace she’d touched upon earlier had vanished when he’d entered the room. Too bad she didn’t know if the feeling came from him or if he’d chased away the real danger. She wanted to trust him, but her magic had never been wrong before. “It was a little scuffle to blow off steam.”
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