by Erica Woods
“What did Ash order?” I asked absentmindedly, not listening to the reply. Something about horses. Food?
My head was spinning. Each thought passing through my mind a fleeting, elusive mist I couldn’t quite grasp. I barely felt the churning in my stomach, the tightness in my chest. Being numb was . . . good.
Until it wasn’t.
Ruarc had been talking. I realized this the same way I’d once realized it had been five long years since I last saw the sun; with a detached sort of panic, knowing it mattered but unable to push through the fog clogging up all the space in my skull.
I drew in a deep breath.
I couldn’t afford to panic, couldn’t afford to go numb and close my eyes to my surroundings. If the Hunters were here . . .
It doesn’t mean they’ve found me.
True. The place would be crawling with Hunters if they knew I was near. So what did it mean? Why was Jan there?
My throat burned with the need to empty my guts. The thought of him, of Jan . . .
A shudder wracked my body.
“You cold?”
I looked at Ruarc, trying to read his expression, but I struggled to focus on his face. “No.”
And I wasn’t. Cold was doable. Cold was a sensation you could recover from, something you could combat with a warm bath or some hot chocolate. I wasn’t cold. I was something much worse.
“You’re trembling.” A snarl in his voice.
I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Were the Hunters searching all the towns around the compound, starting with those closest and working their way out? That seemed the most logical answer given what I knew. It would mean they’d move past this area in not too long, wouldn’t it?
If I hadn’t already been sitting I’d have sagged to the ground.
Lucien’s cool voice drifted through my mind, but the words made no sense.
A warm hand grabbed mine. Ruarc. “What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing.” I had to leave. As soon as the Hunters had finished searching the areas close to the guys and it was safe for me to move on, I had to leave.
A deep, throbbing hurt squeezed my middle so hard I momentarily lost my breath.
When . . . when I left—
My heartbeat suddenly pounded at my temples. I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled my hand free.
In a few weeks I would leave to find my uncle—my breath turned to frost in my lungs, my fingers curled in my lap—I’d do what my father had told me. I would find my uncle and . . .
And what?
Put his life at risk? Somehow convince him to help me take down the Hunters? Make him help me in my search for whatever it was the Hunters feared? And how would I do that, how would I find what they were afraid of when I didn’t even know if it was a person or a thing or an organization or what!
My eyes stung.
“What is wrong with the female?” Lucien angled his body between the two front seats, his cold gaze making my skin prickle where it touched.
“Don’t know.” The words sounded mangled. Hard and straddling a knife’s edge of temper. “Hope? Hope!” Ruarc snapped, and the harshness of his tone startled me enough to snap me out of the fog I’d been lost in.
“Sorry. I . . .”
Lucien muttered something under his breath, and Ruarc growled.
“What. Is. Wrong.” Not a questions as much as a demand. I had a feeling he’d be glaring at me if he wasn’t driving and paying attention to the road.
The town was far enough away now that the tree line began thickening, the road growing narrow as the forest grew dense. We were almost home.
Home.
“I . . .” Tears pressed at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “I remembered something. But I don’t want to talk about it,” I added, giving as much truth as I could without revealing too much.
Another growl from Ruarc, an annoyed sound from Lucien, and though neither of them pressed—to my surprise—the rest of the drive passed in taut silence.
I kept my hands in my lap and stared out the window until we reached the big ranch house that had come to represent a feeling I struggled to put into words. A feeling I’d have to give up to keep the guys out of reach of the Hunters. And a feeling I’d probably never have again, not with the impossible task I’d set before myself.
Find the Hunters’ weakness, use it against them, make sure they can never hurt anyone ever again.
But I was only one person. One weak, cowardly person. What difference could I really make?
The car stopped. Lucien grabbed the pizzas and Ruarc came around the car and helped me out before I could move on my own. When his hand found my lower back, my soul thawed and I had to fight the impulse to lean into his body and allow his strength to carry my own weak heart. Thoughts of Hunters, of my uncle, of the few captives left at the compound, they all drifted to the back of my mind, disappearing behind a door with a padlock and flashing warning signs screaming ‘stay away.’
For today, at least, I would pretend none of the rest mattered. That I was home. That the guys were my family and that I was not a monster. For today I would pretend the noose around my neck wasn’t tightening with every second I stayed. That leaving was a choice, rather than an inevitability. Only for today.
“You are back,” Ash stated when we walked into the living room. He rose with the fluid grace all the guys seemed to possess, looking first at me, then to Ruarc, standing so close the heat from his big frame swept against my skin like unrelenting waves of a tropical sea. “Did everything go smoothly?”
Ruarc grunted. “Brought pizzas.”
“Hmm.” Ash glanced at Lucien as he marched into the kitchen leaving the five pizzas on the massive, living room table. “Would you like to eat here, Hope?” he asked, peeling away a layer of my soul with those piercing eyes of his. “There is a new movie I think you may enjoy, and I thought we could all watch it while we eat.”
Ever since I’d let it slip that I loved movies—quickly muttering something about being hungry and fleeing before I could reveal the sad reason why—Ash had surprised me with a new movie every day, tracking my likes and dislikes with an attentiveness I found startling.
I swallowed hard and looked up at Ruarc. “W-what do you think?” He wanted me to make my own decisions, but if I said yes and Lucien didn’t want me there I’d only create conflict between them when he returned.
Ruarc took his time, keeping me hostage with his stare as he searched my face. Finally, after what seemed to me to be years, he inclined his head tersely. “We will watch,” he told Ash, keeping his eyes locked on mine.
I lowered my gaze. My body felt strange. Heavy and uncomfortable.
With a harsh exhale, Ruarc led me to the middle seat on the massive couch. “Sit,” he grumbled, then turned to Ash who sat down on my right. “Jason?”
“On his way in. He had a problem with a Stray.”
The atmosphere grew chilly. Ruarc took the seat to my left and casually threw one arm across the headrest behind me. With one foot resting on the opposite knee, he should have looked relaxed, at ease, but something about him made me think of a dangerous predator biding his time.
“Does . . . does Jason work with animals as well?” I asked, hesitating at the weird look passing between them.
“No.” Ruarc’s response was clipped, making it clear the subject was closed.
“Oh . . . Okay.”
A sharp sigh had me crane my head, looking straight up into Ruarc’s luminous eyes. They narrowed. His mouth opened, like he was about to speak, but without a single word it snapped shut with an audible click of teeth, and he remained quiet.
The next few minutes passed in uneasy silence. Busy avoiding eye-contact, I used my hair as a shield and peeked at the guys through the dark curtain. Ash watched Ruarc with a quiet intensity while Ruarc grumbled angrily under his breath.
When Lucien came back—plates stacked in his one hand, glasses in the other—his cold eyes unerringly shot
to the one part of me touching Ruarc; the thigh pressed against his.
“You seem to have taken my seat,” he said coolly.
Ruarc bared his teeth in a chilling grimace. “Mine now.”
The hardness in Lucien’s expression made me draw back, but he said nothing, only placed the plates and glasses on the table and sat down in a comfortable looking chair a little to the right of the rest of us.
“Honey, I’m home!” a cheery voice sang from the entrance. The tanned man owning said voice kicked off his shoes, flashed me a grin, and stopped. Nose twitching, Jason took one look at the pizza boxes and threw himself over the stack like a lion taking down a gazelle. Picking through them, he drew out the third from the top. “This is mine,” he said, grinning at me when I gaped at him.
“Why that one?” I asked.
He smirked, tapped his nose with his index finger. “Superior nose, love. I could smell the pepperoni.”
For some reason, his words made Ruarc growl, a low, threatening sound that didn’t seem to phase Jason in the least.
“I will get us something to drink.” Ash’s calm voice was like a balm to the tension in my shoulders but as soon as he left the room, Jason claimed his seat, scooting closer until I was almost sitting in his lap and dragging another low growl from Ruarc.
Trying to diffuse the puzzling tension, I turned to Jason. “How did you smell the pepperoni when all the pizzas were on top of each other, and all had the lid on?”
His eyes sparkled. “Ah! Genetic superiority, love. But don’t fret,” he added with such dramatic flourish I couldn’t quite stop my mouth from pulling up into a reluctant smile. “Very few are blessed with my excellent genes so you needn’t feel bad. Just look at Lucien, over there. Terrible genetics.”
I gasped, whipped around to look at the man whose beauty intimidated me every day. “Jason,” I scolded in a soft whisper, “you know that is far from the truth!”
Lucien’s perfectly sculpted brow rose, his mouth curling with disdain. “Excuse me?” he said in a voice so cold I shivered.
“I . . . I just meant . . .”
The longer I stared at him—I couldn’t look away, my instinct screaming that danger lay ahead—the frostier his eyes grew. “Enchanted by beauty, are you?” There was no expression on his face, no emotion. “It is to be expected, I suppose, from someone who has none of their own.”
My mouth fell open on a silent protest. What did he—
Had he just said—
Oh my god . . .
I cringed. I knew I was no great beauty, but to say it to my face . . . and in front of others, guys I admired and—
An eruption of terrible snarls and growls followed Jason and Ruarc as they leapt from the couch.
Those sounds . . .
Inhuman.
“You cold-hearted bastard!” Ruarc roared, teeth flashing dangerously. He stalked forward, seemingly incensed at Lucien’s lack of response.
Jason snarled words were no less hard, “You should be ashamed of yourself, Lucien! Telling lies and hurting a female for no other reason than—”
“Fools.” With a voice that was as quiet as it was lethal, Lucien rose. “You are both fools. Trailing behind the wench like pups not yet out of their dens. What possible reason . . .” The words died off, and I felt his gaze like a burning touch.
Lifting my head, I saw him staring fixedly at my cheek.
Miserable, I swiped at whatever had drawn his attention. Something wet touched my finger.
Am I . . . am I crying? Aghast, I drew back and felt the rest of my face.
Dry.
Instead of relief, my insides shriveled. One tear. One tiny little tear and I’d proven yet again how weak I was. How stupid.
Why had I not laughed at Lucien’s insult? Being called ugly was far from the worst thing that had been thrown my way. So why did it hurt? Why did my face burn and my throat feel tight and scratchy?
“I . . .” Lucien shook his head, dismay etched across his marble face as he stared at me.
Ruarc swiveled around, followed Lucien’s gaze. A fierce frown twisted his expression, a low, threatening sound spilling from his throat. He marched back to where I sat and gathered me in his arms. If he felt how stiff I was, he didn’t show it. He simply pulled me onto his lap.
Heat engulfed me as his big body curled around me. Protecting me. Shielding me from Lucien and his harsh truths.
“He’s a fucking moron.”
I stiffened, hating that I’d caused strife between them, but Ruarc only held me tighter, growling into my hair.
W-what are these sounds?
Then Jason was there, no trace of his previous humor left on his suddenly hard face. While Ruarc held me, murmuring foreign words into my hair, Jason leaned down and cupped my cheek. “He is wrong,” he whispered, tilting my face to meet his determined, amber eyes. “You are beautiful.”
Wrenching my head away, I tried to swallow my disagreement. The harsh sound that escaped my lips was foreign and ugly—not quite a sob but close enough to make me wish I was alone.
Jason’s lie, well meaning as it was, felt like a kick to the chest—and I knew what that felt like, having experienced several. It was almost worse than Lucien’s hateful words, for at least Lucien was honest in his dislike.
“Go.” Ruarc’s command was a harsh exhalation, the words carrying an inflexible decree my legs wanted to follow even though I knew it wasn’t aimed at me.
For once, Lucien didn’t say anything. He left in silence, despite Ash’s low, “Lucien,” from the doorway, and not a sound was heard until a door upstairs closed on a soft whisper.
Surrounded by warm, male bodies, I should have felt trapped. Afraid. But instead, I buried my head in Ruarc’s strong chest and tried to ignore the hot shame that insisted I retreat and lick my wounds in private. His hold on me tightened, almost as if he knew my thoughts, and I sniffled. There was something to be said for being held like this.
Jason was leaning in as well, stroking my back in slow, soothing circles. And while I was here, surrounded by his closest friends, his family, Lucien was upstairs. Alone. After having been chased out of his own living room by a woman he detested.
Guilt sat like lead in my belly.
A deep sigh, a slight dip in the couch, and Ash’s familiar scent washed over me. He smelled faintly of the horses he worked with every day, but underneath there was the smell of male; a musky, appealing scent that somehow carried with it the feeling of endless plains and a beckoning sun.
“Hope . . . banajaanh,” he began, sounding as if he was in pain. “That had nothing to do with you. Do you understand?”
I shook my head. Of course it was because of me.
A heavy sigh, a warm touch. “What he said is not the truth. Not the world’s truth, and not his truth.”
Another lie. I gripped Ruarc’s shirt tighter—comforted by the low rumble echoing in his chest—determined to shut out words bringing only more humiliation. Did they think I couldn’t handle the truth? Did I appear so weak that I couldn’t even stand to be called ugly? Appearances didn’t matter. Life mattered. Freedom mattered. Having people who loved you . . .
“You must understand . . . Lucien has had a tough life. Sometimes he reacts to words and situations we find innocent, because they are a trigger for him. What he said had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the past.” Earnest words spoken in a calm, quiet voice. They buried under my skin, soothing the hurt I had no business feeling in the first place.
“Ash is right, love,” Jason injected. “Ignore Lucien. His words don’t matter. Not when no one here agrees.”
“It’s okay,” I said softly. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know I’m not pretty, and that’s okay. Really,” I added as three pairs of eyes stared at me in disbelief. “I’d actually prefer it if you were all just honest and admitted you agree with Lu—”
“Not a chance!” Ruarc snarled, squeezing me so tight I let out a pained whimper.
; His arms immediately loosened.
“Love . . .” Jason ducked his head to catch my gaze. “We don’t agree with what Lucien said. I doubt he even agrees with himself, the wanker.” A crooked smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Why would we?”
Their vehement disagreement left me bewildered. I threw a quick glance at Ash, seeing nothing but an inscrutable expression, before looking back to study Jason. A slight flaring of his eyes, a heated emotion peeking out before bleeding into nothingness.
What did Ruarc think? With his chin resting on the top of my head, his broad frame cradling my much smaller form, I couldn’t see his face. But I could feel the tension in his hard body, the tightening of his powerful muscles.
“Thanks, guys,” I whispered. I couldn’t bring myself to actually believe that they found me even close to beautiful—and I couldn’t allow myself to care—but despite my lack of faith in their words, the fact that they cared enough to comfort me, to offer lies that surely tasted sour on their tongues was heartwarming in its own way.
Ash patted my hand. “Let us eat.” The pizza boxes were still spread out before us on the table. A delicious scent drifted up, teasing my nostrils when he opened each lid. “We all prefer different toppings. Have one from each, if you want. Then you can see which you like.”
“She’ll obviously prefer the pepperoni,” Jason said. The playful sparkle in his amber eyes was back, and I was grateful for the distraction.
“The Hawaiian is pretty decent.” Ash nodded to the one closest to him.
“Are you kidding me? It’s got pinapple. Pineapple.” Jason shuddered. “That’s like ordering pizza with slices of apple or banana or raspberries. Have you ever heard of raspberry pizza?”
“No,” Ash said, face impassive. “But it sounds delicious.”
Jason sputtered, a sound between a laugh and a moan fighting free, and though Ash didn’t laugh, one corner of his mouth tipped up. I couldn’t help the small smile I flashed in response.
There was so much food on the table, I’d have thought it could have fed us all for at least a week if I hadn’t already seen how much these guys could eat.