by Erica Woods
“I didn’t ask Lucien,” Ruarc snapped, hands whitening from clenching the wheel too tightly, “I asked you.”
The chit looked stricken. At the sight of her pale face filling with embarrassment, my own hands tightened into fists as impotent rage swam to the surface of my emotions.
What the devil?
Ruthlessly, I crushed the unfamiliar fury until cold indifference was the only thing remaining. It was safe. Familiar. And the numbness it dragged over my ugly soul felt like heaven.
“I’m sorry,” Hope whispered. “I-I just don’t . . .” She trailed off, blinking furiously down at her lap.
Ruarc sighed, the heavy sound carrying a mix of anger and despondence. “Have you ever had either?”
“Only . . . only pizza.”
“You liked it?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good.” Ruarc turned off the little dirt road separating our home from the acres and acres of untamed land surrounding our house. That land was part of our territory. Our home.
The nearest pizza place was in the small town fifteen minutes down the road. The town consisted of one grocery store, a couple of food places, a tack shop, a feed store, and one clothing store that served all the humans in the nearby area. There were a few other places in the town square as well, but nothing noteworthy.
It never ceased to amaze me how little was needed for humans to gather like a flock of sheep.
While we drove, I found myself studying the girl more intently than I had planned. I told myself it was simply so I could catch her in a lie—eventually all dishonesty was found out—but it was more than that. The delectable spot behind her ear, so warm and sensitive, called to me. And how would those plump lips feel against my skin? Would her core taste as tantalizing as her scent promised?
She was a complex puzzle, all innocence and warmth spiced with deceit and secrets.
My gaze was drawn to her neck. Long, elegant, and much too pretty for a female who spun webs of lies like they were drops of rain to be sipped, one at a time. She fiddled with the string on her pants once more, and I found myself picturing them intertwined with mine, so much smaller, so trusting, clenching with pleasure as I sent her over her peak.
Arousal tore through my ice-walls like a flaming sword. I had to grit my teeth to swallow a groan, and the muscles along my back strained with the effort it took to keep still.
Fool!
“Not far,” Ruarc muttered to himself. Every now and again he would direct a narrowed-eyed look at the blasted chit, making her shrink a little further back in her seat while Ruarc gritted his teeth together and pretended her fear didn’t make his control slip and his fury build.
After a few minutes of this, Ruarc’s eyes were thin slits of glowing silver.
I leaned forward, chafing at the way the girl flinched away from my proximity, and looked at Ruarc’s eyes.
His glowing, silver eyes.
“Ruarc.” It was a warning, a reminder of where we were, who was with us.
His teeth snapped together inches from my face, a quick warning to back off. The fool had lost his mind.
I turned to the vexing female. She was watching Ruarc with cautious curiosity, not at all what I wanted to see. I would much rather she cowered in the corner than having her pay attention to our exchange and potentially learning our secrets.
“What are you looking at?” My tone was a knife, cutting and flashing steel. Her startled eyes darted to me before lowering, and suddenly I felt completely on edge.
“Lucien . . .” Ruarc’s growl was deeper than it should have been. It was an unmistakable threat from one male to another.
I leaned back. “Fine.” The car was not the place to hash this out, alas I would wait. Perhaps Ash would be the better person to turn to, he had always been better at communicating with Ruarc than I.
The cold shards in my gut came back. If something was not done . . . Ruarc might decide to pursue Hope.
Not possible. It is not done.
But if he did?
Who was this dratted female who’d invaded our territory and made a home in its heart? Who had she once been? And who had put the deep shadows in her eyes? A sudden, irrational urge to find the blackguard responsible raged through me. Was she an innocent victim or a darned good actress with a penchant for cruelty? For it was cruel, to make my brothers worry if no dark past haunted her steps. The possibility that she was a spy meant to tear us apart had occurred to me, but what kind of spy told lies that her eyes gave away as soon as they passed her lips?
It does not matter.
I would find out eventually, and either way I would protect my brothers against making a mistake that would end them.
Jerking my head around, I stared out at the passing landscape. This too would end. In a hundred years from now, I doubted I would even remember the name ‘Hope.’
HOPE
The charged silence in the small car had my scalp prickling as I tried not to fidget.
Lucien was unusually quiet. His blank stare drifted over the passing scenery, and every once in a while two lines appeared between his brows, a storm brewing in his cold eyes. I found myself shrinking in my seat, wondering what emotions lurked beneath Lucien’s marble mask, and if they would spill over and cut me down with them.
Drawing closer to the door, I peeked up at Ruarc. If Lucien was a storm waiting to happen, Ruarc was a volcano wanting to erupt. His jaw was clenched so tightly I was surprised his teeth hadn’t shattered, and his eyes were furious slits promising death to any who might disturb him.
Wisely, I kept quiet.
After a few minutes, the car turned and slowed down. The scenery changed from unending forest to an open, paved square indicating the start of town. A handful of stores stood side to side, filling every inch of space in the allotted area. Their cheery signs advertised everything from food to clothes and even an antique store.
This was it? This was the ‘big city’ I’d been terrified to enter? It wasn’t a city at all, barely even a town. If a Hunter was lurking here . . . Even the thought was ludicrous.
Don’t get too comfortable, Hope, the smarter part of my brain warned. Even if it was unlikely, I still had to be careful.
Ruarc parked the car in the middle of the square, claiming one of five parking slots. “Out.” His voice was short and clipped.
I’d never met a man with such a commanding presence, such strength. It had to infuriate him how pathetic I was; unable to make even the simplest choice.
Before I could move, my door opened and Ruarc’s angry face leaned over me. With a click, he unbuckled my seatbelt, moving back and holding the door open for me.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, surprised he was being so nice when he was clearly still upset. Not that I blamed him.
Silently demanding I follow, Ruarc jerked his head in the direction Lucien had disappeared to—a quaint shop with a bright yellow door and a cheerful sign that read: ‘Grandma Guccelli’s pizzeria.’
I ducked my head, pulling my dark hair as far forward as I could to obscure my face. Though unlikely a Hunter would be lurking around any of the stores, I’d prefer not to take any chances. Not while the familiar, old fear skated across my skin and played havoc on my insides.
Ruarc’s long legs carried him several feet ahead of me, leaving me to scurry after him. It suited me just fine. If someone was waiting for us inside, Ruarc’s powerful frame would block me from view.
Just before entering the pizzeria, Ruarc turned. “What’re you doing?” A brow arched, narrowed eyes resting at my slumped shoulders.
With a nervous glance behind, I shifted from foot to foot. Being out in the open was making me jittery. With no buildings in the middle of the square, just those five parking spots, this made an ideal hunting ground if one were scouting for prey.
That’s what I am. Prey.
The feeling didn’t sit right, and I swallowed hard. “Can . . . can we go in?” I asked in a small voice, hoping he wouldn’t notice how badly m
y hands were shaking.
Of course, his unnerving gaze immediately honed in on my trembling limbs. His jaw went taught, lips compressing. Was he angry with me again? I hated that he always saw my weaknesses.
Instead of commenting, he grabbed my hand, linking our fingers together in the same, intimate hold he’d used earlier. Warmth migrated from his grip, shooting up my arm and settling like a protective layer around my chest.
“Come.” His dark mutter was as much a command as always, but this time there was a hint of softness to his voice.
When I hesitated, still looking over my shoulder—just in case someone was watching us—he tugged on our entwined hands, pulling me ahead of him and shielding my vulnerable back with his own body. When he started walking he lay his arm across my shoulder and chest, forearm resting against my collar bone, pressing my back against his front with every step we took.
The restrictive hold should have scared me, made alarm bells go off in my head, but instead, all my muscles relaxed. A sigh slipped between my parted lips, my heart slowed down, and my head felt heavy enough that tipping it back and leaning it against the broad chest at my back felt natural.
I was completely boxed in by broad shoulders, strong arms, and a warm, hard stomach. All I could feel was Ruarc. All I could smell was his wild, forest smell, both spicy and seductive at the same time.
“You ordered?” he asked Lucien, voice gruff.
My eyes flew open.
When did I close them?
We were inside the little pizza place. Lucien was leaning against the counter, eyes glittering dangerously as his gaze raked over Ruarc’s protective hold. “No,” he said flatly.
“Anything you don’t like?” Ruarc asked me, mouth almost touching my ear. The scruff along his jaw tickled my bare skin, and I shivered.
“N-no,” I whispered, breathless with the fluttering feeling he stirred to life. “Oh!” There was something I didn’t like. Could I say so? Would it make him angry? What if he wanted it on his pizza and I ruined it for him?
“What?” His hot breath drifted across my cheek.
“I, um . . . I don’t really like asparagus.” I wrinkled my nose, remembering the foul tasting things from when I was a little girl.
Lucien snorted. “Who in their right mind puts asparagus on their pizza?”
My cheeks flamed, and suddenly the arm around me felt confining. Too tight. I wanted to escape, become invisible, disappear through the floor.
I shouldn’t have said anything, I thought, leaning away from Ruarc. Him seeing me like this, like some dumb ninny who knew nothing about the world . . .
My stomach clenched.
To my surprise, Ruarc’s hold firmed. He dragged me back against his body, giving me a quick squeeze, before leaning down to whisper in my ear, “Proud of you.”
Everything inside me stilled.
Proud of you.
Three little words, uttered in that deep, gruff voice, and suddenly I felt lighter.
Proud of you.
Warmth radiated through my body, and a strange kaleidoscope of emotions crashed into my chest, threatening to make me laugh and cry at the same time. It was silly, getting so wound up over such casual praise, but it was the first time anyone had told me they were proud of me since I was a child. Since the before. Before my monster made its presence known. Before I had taken a life. Before I had become a prisoner in every way a person could.
My sight grew blurry, my knees weakened. I shook my head, trying to clear my vision, and gripped Ruarc’s forearm with both hands. Words were beyond me, but I managed a squeeze, hoping he would understand how grateful I was for those three words.
For once, sharing my opinion had been worth it.
Lips brushed my temple, a quick, soft nuzzle that short-circuited all my senses and sent my mind reeling.
I lifted a shaking hand, touching the blazing skin Ruarc had caressed with such gentle affection—
No. It’s not possible.
I wouldn’t, couldn’t, let myself believe that. That Ruarc held any feelings for me, least of all affection. If anything, he was trying to reward me for finally doing what he wanted. For sharing my opinion.
But why does that matter so much to him if he doesn’t care for you? A traitorous voice whispered, raising hopes destined to be crushed under a wave of reality soon enough.
“Here you go,” a kind voice said, ripping me out of my thoughts.
When I looked up, Lucien’s glacier stare was fixed on my face. The intent way he studied me didn’t stop, even as he accepted five large pizza boxes from an elderly man—maybe in his sixties—who was all wrinkled smiles and bushy brows. His large, kind eyes were the type you automatically trusted, and they crinkled at the corners when he smiled at Lucien.
“Enjoy your dinner boys,” he said with another grin, unfazed by the icy glare Lucien shot him in return, and winked at Ruarc. He turned to me, lowering his voice to a whisper, “And you, miss, don’t let them boys starve ya! Appetites like wild beasts, ya hear me. Get in there and claim a whole pizza for yourself before there’s only scraps left.”
With another wink, he scrambled into the back, leaving me flabbergasted while Lucien—carrying the pizzas—marched out.
“Nice guy,” Ruarc commented.
Outside, the sun shone, warm tendrils of light caressing exposed skin while a slight breeze ruffled hair and clothing alike.
I didn’t feel it.
The only heat my skin absorbed was Ruarc’s. The only air teasing at my nape was Ruarc’s hot breath as he leaned down to whisper a reassurance in my ear. His scent surrounded me, his protective presence both shielded and chased away fear. From the moment he’d pulled me against his chest until the time he gently deposited me in my seat—buckling me in like I was something precious to be protected—no fear nipped at my heels, and my mind was blissfully at ease.
Lost in my own bubble, I startled when I spotted a young man running toward us.
“Ruarc!” he called out when he was still a good twenty feet away.
Ruarc turned. “Yeah?”
The boy—he looked to be around eighteen, with startling blue eyes, a mop of curly brown hair, and a pointed blade of a nose—jogged over, breathing hard but grinning. “Da got those treats you ordered for Snowflake. The apple cookies and the carrot sticks!”
If I hadn’t known better I could have sworn embarrassment hid behind Ruarc’s suddenly tight jaw. “You bring them?”
The boy didn’t care about Ruarc’s grumpy manners. He was still grinning when he produced four decent-sized packets from pockets that looked much to shallow to carry them. “Samples. To see if they’re to Snowflake’s liking. If they are, Da promised to order a whole bunch, just for you!”
The kid’s enthusiasm almost spilled over, and I found myself smiling as I listened to the exchange.
“Thanks.” Ruarc grabbed the horse treats and held out a couple of bills.
“No way,” the boy said, both hands held up like he was warding off evil. “You guys keep our little feed and tack store in business almost all by yourselves. Da would have my hide if I took money from you for a sample.”
Ruarc grunted, but put his money away. “Coming down tomorrow for Ash’s order. It in yet?”
“Packed and ready to go!”
“Good.” Ruarc turned, looking like he was about to close my door and head around to the driver’s seat when the boy spoke up again.
“Wait!” His face suddenly flushed, gaze moving from Ruarc to me and back again. “You got a . . . a lady with you?”
I shrank back, bubble bursting and leaving nothing but unease behind.
The glare Ruarc shot the kid was accompanied by a dangerous growl.
“Whoa!” Blue eyes widened. “I just wanted to warn you.”
“Yes?” Lucien’s voice was pure silk.
“Some guy . . .” The boy cleared his throat. “Some guy has been going around making people uncomfortable. A stranger. He’s been acting real shad
y, even old guy Gus thinks so. He told Da to keep Jenny home ‘till the stranger’s gone.”
Ruarc crossed his arms and stared.
“Uhm . . . Word ‘round town is he’s staring at all the ladies.” Here the boy threw a quick glance my way. Ruarc’s stare became a glare. “Looks too intently. Bad intentions, that one.”
“What does he look like?”
The youthful face scrunched up. “Pretty normal looking guy. ‘Bout my height, dark hair, clean-shaven. He’s got a tattoo at the back of one hand, one of them skulls, but pretty-like.” He shook his head. “Ma says no matter how he tries to dress it up it still looks like a gang tattoo.”
Whatever else they said was drowned out by the roar in my ears. Jan. The kid is describing Jan.
If I’d been alone I would have screamed. Since I wasn’t I held my breath and hoped if I did it long enough I’d either pass out or be so distracted by my burning lungs that the terror spiking my sudden burst of adrenaline would magically disappear.
Jan. Jan was here. He was here, looking at women. Hunting.
Hunting me.
Bile rushed up my throat and I was forced to swallow, forced to breathe, forced to experience emotions that had once threatened to break me.
Ruarc closed my door and I was left in silence. Horrible, deafening silence. I was vaguely aware of him and Lucien speaking outside—I couldn’t hear them but I saw their mouths moving out of the corner of my eye—but their presence failed to bring me any sort of comfort.
The Hunters were looking for me.
I knew they would be, I knew. So why couldn’t I breathe? Why couldn’t I think? Why were red spots dancing across the back of my closed eyelids?
A ragged gasp flew from the bottom of my lungs.
The Hunters were here. They’d . . . they’d found me.
29
HOPE
By the time Ruarc and Lucien got back in the car, my terror had given way to a welcome numbness. There was no doubt in my mind Ruarc would have sensed my fear—somehow they always seemed to know how I was feeling—and would have poked and prodded at the still open wound until I broke.