by Erica Woods
The amount of feed I was ordering might have been considered excessive, but I had another three horses arriving in a few months for rehabilitation, and I liked Ray, the owner of the little feed shop in town. “Ruarc is making sure no Strays cross into our territory, and Jason took Hope outside.” I ignored the annoyed sound he made and signed my name. “Their shop is struggling. If I order more feed than we can use, we can always donate it to the Jensen farm.”
Lucien shook his head. “Always the bleeding heart.”
I made a non-committal sound and changed the subject. “Have you heard anything more about Rederick?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” He turned one of the chairs and took a seat. “It seems possible he has gathered support from a Council member. I do not know who, and it may be speculation, but if he has . . .”
“The battle will be harder than we thought.”
“Are you certain it is one worth fighting?”
I swallowed the flare of heat urging a vehement response. The pen I had been holding clattered against the desk. “You think we should leave them to their fate and do nothing? If Rederick gets his way in this, it is only a matter of time before the old laws are brought back. Will you sit by and watch as humans become prey?”
“Humans . . .” He scoffed. “What have they ever done for us?”
“There are innocents among them.”
“More so than there are sinners?”
I met the cool, green gaze of my brother. For as long as I had known him, Lucien had chosen to encase his inner self in a cage made of ice. But despite the harsh lessons that scarred him, he was far from heartless. “And the females,” I asked. “The children?”
He stiffened. “Their males will protect them.”
“Will they?”
A sound that was almost a growl, the closest to anger he permitted these days. “They should.”
“You and I both know who suffers when males no longer value honor.”
Had I not known him so well, I would have missed the way his mouth tensed at my words, the single moment he allowed himself to feel before the bars came crashing back down.
These flashes of emotions had been happening more often recently, and it gave me hope that one day Lucien would choose to step out of the prison he had made for himself.
He gave a curt nod. Not an easy agreement, but agreement nonetheless.
We sat in silence for a few short moments. I could not stop thinking about the human among us, and from the sudden curl to his lip, I suspected Lucien was doing the same.
It was . . . nice having a female around. Courteous and kind, albeit a bit timid—though that was to be expected—she had a soothing presence.
It had surprised me how much I had enjoyed watching movies with her. Her soft-spoken questions, the small gasps of surprise she could not quite stifle—too involved in what was happening on the screen—and the way her lower lip disappeared between her teeth when the stakes were high.
But most of all, I enjoyed the heat from her small body as she edged closer, forgetting her innate nervousness, the fear her abusers had taught her, and seeking comfort from my nearness. Trusting me, if only a little.
How long had it been since I had allowed myself the company of a female? Decades, at the very least. My attempts at casual relationships had all ended the same—with hurt and anger and accusations. The thought of endless sexual partners and one-night stands had never appealed—I required, at the very least, to like the person I was with, to be more than strangers—but I could not allow myself anything more than casual affection.
The risks were too great.
Besides, solitude suited me and I was never truly alone. I had my brothers.
“Gideon’s pack will take our side,” Lucien said suddenly. “His enforcer told me they’re looking at—”
A noise that did not belong.
Tires.
We rose simultaneously.
Not Jason. Not Ruarc. Not one of ours.
My fingers curled. Claws pressed against flesh, eager to tear out. Eager to draw blood.
Lucien tilted his head, closed his eyes. “I don’t know it.”
The side of my beast that was only cold, only violent, roared in my head.
Intruders. Strangers. In my territory!
The urge to tear through the closest wall and get outside pounded at my skull. A low growl slipped past my still-human teeth.
Lucien met my gaze, and in his eyes I saw the same fury, the same inexplicable dread that shifted the floor beneath my feet. This felt different than any other time. This was different.
Hope.
The sound that had demanded our attention was still faint, but close enough that I itched to shed my skin.
“Where, exactly, did Jason take the human?” Lucien asked, proving that, despite his hostility toward her, the thought of an intruder coming across Hope was not one he was willing to entertain.
I stilled. “Out back.”
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
The sound grew louder, a smooth hum of a motor joining the turn of four wheels, and suddenly I was moving. Running. Lucien at my heels.
The front door slammed behind us, and I barely noticed the clear sky and brilliant sun. I threw up a hand to shield my eyes, gaze sweeping across our property. The dense forest at the end of our driveaway blocked the small, winding road from view.
So I waited.
A few minutes later, a black Sedan rolled into view.
The fury swelling in my chest gave my beast the opportunity to encroach, and soon its coldly calculating presence swept through me at an alarming speed.
Lucien stepped closer. We stood shoulder to shoulder, a thrumming energy of violence alive in us both.
Intruders. Our land. Destroy, a sibilant voice whispered through my mind.
The car stopped. A man emerged. With the wind at our backs, it took me precious seconds to catch his scent; rich, smoky, dark. A scent that reminded my beast of flesh tearing and our mouths filling with blood. And when I recognized what it meant, an unyielding need to defend rolled beneath my skin along with the beast I kept so tightly leashed it vibrated against its restraints.
You are the master of your body. I drew a deep breath in through my mouth, blocking the infuriating scent.
“And who might you be?” Lucien asked. Only a fool would fail to recognize the deadly threat hiding in that seemingly civil greeting.
The man stopped. Tall, slender, dark-haired. I did not know who he was, and it did not matter. All my energy was spent trying not to launch myself at the stranger who dared step foot onto my land without permission.
“I’m Kieran,” he said. His voice, like most of his kind, was deep and smooth. Hypnotic, I had been told, to humans. He did not move from his spot, choosing instead to stand still and keep his hands loose at his sides. “I would have gone through formal channels, but I don’t have the time. Not now.” He smiled, but it was a bitter thing. Tainted, somehow.
“You know whose territory you have invaded?” Lucien asked.
Kieran’s gaze flicked to me. “I do.”
I infused my voice with a calm I did not feel, “Then your need must be great.”
His shoulders lowered half an inch. “It is.”
“Why have you come?”
“I’ve come for a word with your spymaster.” Kieran turned to Lucien. “I need your help.”
If Kieran thought it strange that we invited him into our home, he did not show it. He took a seat in the chair Lucien indicated—with Hope out of the house, my office was the only place I would allow a stranger to step foot in—and waited.
“What can we do for you?” Rather than keep the desk between us, I had chosen to sit opposite our visitor in one of the office’s extra chairs. Lucien stood a little behind me to the right. He’d donned his cold, unreadable mask, and was watching our guest with eyes that missed nothing.
“My brother . . .” A pained grimace swept over Kieran’s face
. “His Blood—his mate—has been taken.”
I stiffened. “When?”
“Three days ago.”
Three days? Sympathy welled as I imagined myself in his brother’s shoes. Had it been me . . .
“Why bring this to us?” Lucien asked.
“She’s one of yours. Half,” he corrected, a slight quiver to that one word that could have been either anger or grief. “And another has claimed her.”
“Did she go willingly?”
“No.” There was no mistaking the fury claiming his voice. Smoke as dark as the blackest night swirled in his eyes, and his features grew sharper as his true face emerged. “She was stolen.”
“Who?” A quiet whisper. Lucien strode forward, his hand clenching around the top of my chair. “Who took her?”
“Wellington. We searched every inch of his pack’s territory, but there are no signs of either of them. His alpha claims no knowledge, but he is hiding something.”
“What makes you so sure?”
Kieran took a moment to reply, and when he did, fangs flashed with each word. “He claimed she was a valued member of the pack, and as such would let us know if she came back. They said . . .” Here he stopped, hissed out a breath. “They said they wouldn’t dream of stealing her choice of whom to take as a mate.”
“A lie?” I asked, already knowing what was coming. Being a half-breed came with its own set of challenges. Ones that were not deserved, and certainly not fair.
He inclined his head. “Help us find them and my nest will . . . owe you.” His reluctance was to be expected; their kind never reneged on a promise. “You have my word.”
Lucien looked at me, and that look said it all. He knew. He always knew. “Wellington travels between two packs,” he began, and by the time he was done speaking he had proven his reputation as spymaster was well deserved, even if it was a title he did not particularly care for.
Many chose to refine a talent despite disdain for the art.
“Thank you.” A heavy exhale, then a slow breath. “My brother and I are in your de—” Kieran stilled. He drew in another deep breath, opened his mouth, and . . . snapped it shut again. Slowly, too slowly, he looked at the door. “You have someone else living with you?”
All my muscles tensed. I concentrated on keeping my face neutral, but before I could reply I heard Lucien’s hissed response, “No.”
Kieran fixed his gaze on Lucien, eyes a swirling mass of smoke. “There’s another scent here. Female.”
“One of Jason’s conquests,” Lucien said, ice dripping from each syllable.
“She is staying with you?”
“You have gotten what you came for.” I found my feet and inclined my head at the door.
Kieran rose too, his movements that of a wary predator aware he was moments away from becoming prey. “I would like to meet her.”
“No.”
Kieran stilled. “Are you protecting her or yourselves, I wonder.”
“Neither.” Lucien strode across the room and opened the door. He stared at the other male with eyes that were thin slits of glowing green. “It’s time you left.”
Kieran did not budge.
Did he think we would allow him near the human we harbored? A stranger, a male who could rip out her throat faster than she could cry warning?
Cold anger scraped along my mind. Keeping my voice low and my tone even required all the control I had so painstakingly worked to gain after my last Ascension. “Leave.”
To Kieran’s credit, he did not flinch at the thunder in my voice, nor the beast using my eyes to watch him. A wary look crossed his face, but he held his ground. “Are you holding her against her will?”
My vision narrowed until all I could see was Kieran. “We are not.” He made the mistake of looking directly at me, and I captured his gaze. “Leave.”
He visibly struggled against the command, chin jerking as he tried to break the contact.
I would not allow it.
“See him out, Lucien. And follow him until he is off our land.”
HOPE
I groaned and shook my head at Jason’s offering. Another piece of chocolate. If I hadn’t known better I would have thought he was trying to spoil me. “I’m stuffed.”
I’d stayed with the guys for six days and seven nights—had it only been a week since I’d been tied down to a cold table, my skin split, my insides on display while Gregory rooted around inside me? Had it only been a week since terror had kept my limbs frozen, since despair ate at my soul until I wished my eyes would no longer open each morning?—it seemed both an eternity and a blink of an eye.
I shuddered, but before the memory of that awful place left me spiraling, I reminded myself of last night’s decision; to give myself some time. Time where I tried not to agonize over my future. Time where the Hunters didn’t rule my every thought. Time where I wasn’t choking on the choices before me; to stay or to go, to fight or to flee, to sacrifice everything or live with crushing guilt.
Postponing the decision would not make it easier, but after I’d finished the movie with Ash last night, when I lay in bed unable to sleep for the suffocating pressure in my chest, I’d realized I was in no condition to fight the Hunters. At least not yet. And I still knew too little. I needed time—I’d only been free a week, surely I could take a little more time?—not to mention I’d yet to begin my work with the guys and earn the money I’d need to . . . well, to do anything.
Jason wiggled his eyebrows, pulling my attention back to the present, and popped the offending piece between his lips. “More for me.”
He seemed right at home out here, sitting on a blanket on the grass, the remnants of our meal between us while he slowly chewed and watched me. The sun caressed his face, turned his hair to a wonderful golden brown. Amber eyes glowed with humor and warmth, and he always kept a devastating grin ready to be unleashed.
The comparison I’d struck when I first saw him came rushing back, and now more than ever I knew I’d been right.
Jason was like the sun—warm and bright and cheery.
“What are you thinking about love?”
Heat raced up my neck. I’d been caught staring. Again. “N-nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing.” A quick flash of a smile that made heat spread to my cheeks. “Tell me.”
“Shouldn’t we head back?”
“Oh, no you don’t!” He grabbed my chin, gaze sweeping over my face before locking on mine. The grin that had been playing about his lips slowly slipped away. His regard grew heavy, almost a pressure over my skin.
My breath caught.
“Hope . . .” A rueful smile curved his lips. “You’re not what I expected.”
“W-what did you expect?” I asked, almost fearing the answer.
But rather than reply, a tender look entered his eyes, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone before he let his hand drop to his side. “We should head back.”
Baffled, and warm in a way that could not be attributed to the sun, I could only nod and watch as he packed up our little picnic.
The wicker basket looked all wrong when held in Jason’s big hands. The dusting of fine, golden hair down his arms looked utterly masculine, the veins in his forearms strangely attractive. Muscles moved and flexed beneath tanned skin, and the small, girly basket was transferred to Jason’s left hand. With his right, he cupped my elbow and led me around the big rock we’d leaned against, and set a languid pace back toward the house.
“Have you . . . have you been on many picnics?” I asked when the silence became too much. My heart was still galloping from the unexpected touch earlier, and I needed a distraction.
“No,” he said with some surprise, “this was my first.”
Something warm bloomed in my chest.
“What about you, love? Have you been on a picnic before?”
“Once. Before I . . .” My voice trailed off and whatever peace I’d found during our meal vanished like it had never been. A shiver raced up
my spine.
Jason stopped, and suddenly his arm was around my shoulder, pulling me close. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said, tipping my face up to meet his gaze. “Everyone has secrets, and everyone has things they’d rather not talk about. Personally, I much prefer to remember the good things in life.”
“And the bad?” I whispered.
“The bad can go to hell.”
I averted my gaze before I could give into the pressure behind my eyes or blurt out the questions I was dying to ask. What secrets hid in Jason’s past? And were they the reason for the far-away look he sometimes wore? The look I’d only caught glimpses of during my time here.
The desire to know him, to know them all, had steadily been growing. But I couldn’t give in. Not before I was ready to share my own story, and I knew that was one thing I could never do.
The silence dragged on, each second stretched unbearably thin. But when I glanced back up at Jason he wasn’t frowning down at me or expecting a reply. No, he was simply waiting, face turned toward the sun, eyes closed, enjoying the nice day.
In that moment, it was all I could do not to hug him.
“Home?” he asked in a lazy voice, still bathing his face in the sun’s warm rays. Still not looking at me. Not pressuring.
Before I could reply, a prickle at the back of my neck made me turn. I frowned at the forest some fifty feet away. Had something moved? I scanned the treeline, confused at the unease slithering up my back when all I saw was . . . nothing. Nothing prowled beneath the cover of the canopy. Nothing moved beyond the leaves swaying in the gentle breeze. The smell of spring teased my senses, of grass and flowers and . . . smoke?
I shook my head.
Dust had been kicked up somewhere, carried by the wind, probably, but I couldn’t see any smoke. Just the dust. Dust that hovered above the ground as it flew through the air. Dust that looked a little like smoke, maybe?
“Jason . . . Jason, look.” I pointed the dark mass speeding toward us. Now that it was closer, I saw it wasn’t dust and it didn’t leave a trail that grew fainter with every foot it traveled. Rather, it looked like a cloud of smoke, moving as though it had a mind of its own.