by Erica Woods
“Which one is Lucien’s?”
Ruarc’s hand squeezed my hip. “The vegetarian one.”
“He . . . he doesn’t eat meat?”
“He does,” Ash replied. “But he prefers his pizza without.”
“Weirdo,” Jason said, but there was no heat behind the insult.
“Shouldn’t we wait for him?” When no one spoke, I tried again. “He should be here with you guys, what happened wasn’t . . . it wasn’t a big deal.”
“Was a big deal,” Ruarc snapped. “Made you feel bad, made you c—”
“He will be down when he feels like it, Hope,” Ash said and shot Ruarc a look I couldn’t decipher. He gestured to the food. “Will you not eat?”
I looked over each pizza in turn, trying not to think about Lucien sitting alone upstairs while I was spending time with his family. Everything looked great, even the pizza covered in so many colorful toppings it could have been a piece of art. Biting my lip, I considered my choices while I waited for the others to start.
And waited.
And waited.
“A-aren’t you gonna eat?”
“Ladies first.” Jason flashed me a grin before waggling his brows at the pepperoni. “Be good little pepperoni and maybe the pretty lady will choose you.”
The false compliment made me cringe, but it wasn’t enough to distract me from the choice in front of me.
“I’ll have . . . um . . .”
“That one,” Ruarc said on a soft growl, pointing to the box on the far right. “Pass me two, Ash.”
I could have kissed the grumpy man right then and there!
A curious tilt to his mouth, Ash did as Ruarc requested, and soon I had a scrumptious-looking slice of my own.
In two bites half of Ruarc’s pizza was gone. He jerked his chin at the TV. “Movie.”
The rich sound of laughter filled the air and warmed my chest. Head thrown back, eyes glittering with humor, Jason looked so warm, so alive that I fought the urge to throw my arms around him and hug him until the strange feeling in my chest disappeared. “I see you’re comfortable,” he teased Ruarc, pointedly staring at the big palm that had somehow found its way to my thigh.
In typical Ruarc fashion, a grunt was his only reply.
The flutters in my chest eased at the first bite of delicious pizza. “This is so good!” I hummed to myself as my tastebuds exploded.
“You can never go wrong with ham, love,” Jason agreed. “Although, if I were you, I’d choose the pepperoni. It’s the best seller for a reason.”
I peeked at his plate; two uneaten crusts and a half-eaten slice. “I can see that.” I dared a teasing smile. “I guess now I can see how you sustain your bulk.”
“Are you calling me fat?” Jason narrowed his eyes and gestured to various hard muscle on his body. “Do you see this? It’s all muscle, baby.”
Ruarc snorted, which led to a healthy debate where Jason listed all the reasons why he was the best looking of the guys, while Ruarc rolled his eyes at regular intervals, and Ash just shook his head, occasionally interjecting a quiet rebuttal of Jason’s points.
As I leaned back, the warmth of Ruarc’s protective hold seeping into every part of my body, I was amazed at the glow I felt inside. If my heart could have danced, this would surely be how it would feel; this luminescence in my chest, expanding and pushing, until I felt as light as a flower petal in the wind.
It felt like home.
30
JASON
You are beautiful.
The words, my words, continued to spin circles in my mind all through the night and into the next morning. It was her eyes, I decided. Those startlingly wide eyes. They were too kind, too pure for whatever brutalities she’d suffered.
My insides turned liquid as I remembered my first sight of the brutal gashes tearing at her legs. Blood had still been trailing down from the deep cuts around her calf when Ash tended it, her leg swollen, the skin shredded.
I made a mental note to ask Lucien how her injuries were healing—though I’d scented no blood or pain—and followed Ruarc down the slope leading to Lucien’s workshop. The door was opened, the angry sound of a saw being dragged across wood sliced through the air.
The phone call that led us to have this impromptu meeting had not left us with much patience to spare.
“No.” Lucien’s clipped voice came between a brief break in the violent sawing. “Still no trace.”
Ruarc cursed, knowing as well as I did what that meant.
Every night since the day Kieran had taken Hope, Lucien had been hunting, and every dawn he’d returned empty handed. His relentless pursuit had surprised me given the circumstances, but it didn’t matter. Not when he hunted prey nearly impossible to track.
Once inside, the scent of freshly cut wood rose to greet us, and when I kicked the door shut, sawdust caught in the draft and danced in the air.
The bright light from the morning sun shone through the big windows, illuminating a drawn-looking Lucien hunched over his worktable.
“Were you out all night again?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Still looking for Kieran?”
The hand holding the wood steady clenched. “What else would I be doing?”
“I don’t know.” A grin tugged at my lips. “Practicing the art of seduction?”
Lucien turned. “What?”
“Hey, I don’t know what you do with your free time, and I don’t judge.”
Ice filled his eyes. “Do you not?”
Was he referring to last night? That quick, my humor drained. “Only when people act like dicks.”
Hope carried her scars for all the world to see—the way she agonized over the smallest choice, the way she cringed at loud noises, the way she often made herself look small, as if she could disappear, become invisible if only she could curl her shoulders just so—and yet no sharp edges stood ready to cut the hands that reached for her, no bitter words left her tongue when provoked, no malice lay in wait beneath her kindness.
How did some people come through horrors coated with kindness and compassion, while others became tainted by it?
I gritted my teeth against the familiar sensation slithering past my ribs to attack my heart, and forced my lips to form a carefree smile.
“This what you want to waste time on?” Ruarc crossed his arms, one finger tapping at the opposite forearm. Though he spoke to us, his gaze drifted to the window.
Thinking about Hope?
I sure was.
Making the sweet human smile had become something of a game to me. A game where the prize was witnessing the fruit of my labor and knowing I was the reason her lips parted and her small, white teeth flashed.
“No,” I admitted, and though his eyes still glittered dangerously, Lucien turned back to his project.
“Kieran is proving as elusive as the rest of his kind. Even I cannot find him,” he said.
“I am not sure finding him should be a priority.” Ash moved to stand next to Lucien, watching as the other male worked. “He did let her go, which he would not have done unless it was as he said; a case of mistaken identity.”
“I don’t really care why he took her, only that the bastard did.” It still burned that he’d knocked me unconscious, that I’d failed to protect her when it had mattered the most.
This was just one of the many reasons why it was dangerous to keep a human around. These new laws being tossed around made matters worse, not to mention the unpredictability of the Council. Even if a male wanted to pursue someone like Hope, it would be impossible.
Can’t pursue her without telling her what we are, can’t tell her unless she’s bound to us.
A shot of adrenaline spiked my heartbeat. Why was I thinking about pursuing our guest? And why the fuck did that make my dick hard?
Disgusted with myself and knowing the horror and fear Hope would feel if she knew what I was thinking, I tore through the ugly part of my mind until I was satisfied there’d b
e no more surprise hard-ons.
At least not during this meeting.
“Want him dead for laying hands on her,” Ruarc snarled under his breath. His gaze remained fixed on the sights beyond the window, the muscles along his shoulders lay in corded ropes below his shirt. “But he didn’t hurt her. And now his nest owes us.”
I hated it when the grumpy asshole used logic instead of his volatile emotions. I hated it even more when he was right. Dammit. “Looks like you get to stay home tonight, Lucien,” I said.
He was done with the saw and put the wood away in favor of plucking a half-formed wooden figurine off the nearest shelf. A short knife found its way into his other hand, and he began carving. “We will see.”
Ruarc snorted and the nail on the finger that never stopped tapping grew sharp. A drop of blood welled where it pierced his skin. “Get to it.”
“You all heard the call,” Ash said. “Our only option is to prepare as best we can.”
“No,” Ruarc growled, still staring through the window. “They can bloody well turn back around.”
“I would turn them away if I could, Ruarc, but they are thirty minutes out and if we do not wish a war we need to deal with the issue now, before the Assembly vote.”
“Fuck the Assembly,” Ruarc spat.
I nodded in agreement. If the other packs were dumb enough to vote for this new law, if the Council were too pigheaded to put a stop to it, they could all drown in their own blood for all I cared. Rederick, the alpha of the South-East Colorado pack, was a fanatic, and anyone that followed a fanatic was an idiot.
“Fool notion,” Lucien said. He continued to carve his figurine, the knife making long, swirling marks I recognized as feathers. “If there is a war do you imagine we will be safe, that Hope will be safe?” He cut Ruarc a cold glare. “You forget we are also in Colorado. Our territory is not so far removed that the battle won’t spill over. And even if it missed us . . .” He carved a deep groove, the beginning of a beak. “If Rederick’s law passes no humans will be safe, and I, for one, shall not stand by and see them all slaughtered.”
Ash placed his hand on Lucien’s shoulder, and though he didn’t smile, his eyes warmed.
“There won’t be a war.” Ruarc finally tore his gaze away from the window and turned to face us. “I’ll take care of Rederick.”
“You would have to go through his entire pack first,” I said.
A dangerous light entered the stubborn male’s eyes. “So be it.”
“Absurd.” Lucien smacked his palm against the wooden bench, put down his work, and turned to face Ruarc. “Do you imagine we would allow you to go by yourself, Ruarc? They are fifty strong!” He drew in a deep breath. “Even if we all went, even if we requested aid from Blake’s pack, our chances of winning are slim at best.”
Ruarc replied with a wordless snarl.
Ash shook his head. Lines of strain had appeared at the side of his mouth, and when he spoke he barely moved his lips. “Even without Rederick, the proposal would be brought to the Assembly. There are too many who hunger for the old ways, and the Hunters provide the fuel needed to ignite outrage. We need to meet with Blake and gather our allies. Without a strong opposition the Council may decide to invoke the old laws.”
“Can they do that?” I asked.
“Yes,” Ash replied. “They have done so in the past and may do it again if given cause. They were never meant to have the power they do, and if its threatened . . .”
“War,” Ruarc growled.
“War,” Ash agreed.
Something built in my chest, a furious, bitter sound I forced myself to swallow. If Ash was right—which he tended to be—we had no choice. “How long will they stay?”
“One night.”
Too long.
I looked to Ruarc. The big male shook his head, sending his mane of hair flying. “A night too long.”
Dragging a hand through my own, much shorter hair, I frowned. Did Hope prefer longer hair?
“There is nothing to be done about it now,” Lucien stated in his usual, cool voice. “Blake is not a radical, and I do not believe he will attempt to harm the human.”
“He better not!”
A deadly silence descended on the heels of Ruarc’s snarled decree. It grew, expanded through the workshop, too taut, too tense, like a balloon pushed to the edge of its capabilities. It hovered there, ready to explode into shards of silver, ready to cut, to burst, to destroy.
“He will not harm Hope.” A quiet, quiet promise, fangs and claws carved to become words. The silence imploded, and all that power, all that taut tension drew back into the male responsible.
There was a reason Ash was our leader, a reason he was equally feared and respected among our kind. Though he’d never once spoken of it, we all felt the power he struggled to keep contained. The same power that drove lesser males to insatiable, unspeakable violence.
Mahír fáinn.
“Well then,” I said, shaking off the last of my unease. “What’s the plan Mr. Bossman?”
Lucien rolled his eyes.
Was it my fault that I was the only one who found that funny?
“Ruarc and Lucien, you should be there when they arrive. Jason, you keep Hope away from the house. Do not let her out of your sight.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” I shot Ash a mock salute, grinning at Ruarc’s snarl and the glare he shot my way as he stalked out, probably heading back to the house to squeeze in some time with our little human before our guests arrived.
The enforcer was needed while I was free to play my games and try to lighten the shadows darkening Hope’s bright light. If only I could show her the way, teach her to stuff her past into a small, metal box and shove it so far back in her mind that she’d never have to look at it again.
“Do you know who Blake is bringing?”
Lucien took a moment to consider Ash’s question. “Zakhar, most likely. Perhaps Dakota if they are planning another stop.”
Ash stilled. “Dakota has an uncle up north. If Blake thinks those family ties will help them reason with Mason . . .”
The pack ruled by Mason Bellard up north was rotten to the core. A few years back Ash had been passing through on one of his yearly treks, and the stories he’d come back with were so atrocious even Lucien hadn’t been able to hide his disgust.
“They’ll be here soon,” I interjected, wanting to end this conversation so I could join Ruarc in seeking out some Hope time. “Anything else we should expect?”
“The stables,” Lucien said with a jaw that looked stiff and unyielding. “They cannot sleep in the house.”
Ash nodded, then, “And keep Hope out of their sight.”
“Do not let her wander on her own. Who knows what trouble the wench will stir up.”
“Lucien . . .”
“She’s a menace!” he snapped.
I rolled my eyes. “Okay so . . . We keep them away from Hope, make sure we’re on the same page with this whole Rederick thing, warn them about Mason, and convince them that sleeping in the stable is for their benefit.” I grinned. “What could go wrong?”
31
HOPE
Queenie nuzzled my palm. The soft swipe of her eager muzzle as she searched for hidden treats was almost enough to distract me from all the questions buzzing through my mind.
The phone call Ash had received shortly after breakfast had caused quite the uproar. His short, clipped replies had held all the guys’ attention; Ruarc had looked on the verge of bursting from his chair while eyeing the phone with a destructive glint in his stormy, silver eyes, and Jason had lost the charming grin he’d aimed my way just seconds before.
After Ash hung up, he’d muttered a quick goodbye while Jason had said something about seeing me in a few minutes.
As I’d looked out the window, staring after their fast retreating backs, I’d wondered what all the fuss was about. They clearly hadn’t wanted me hearing whatever they were going to discuss—having entered a building far out o
f my hearing. Maybe it was some kind of business meeting?
“You’re much easier to understand, aren’t you Queenie?” I murmured, scratching under her chin. I was glad I’d chosen to come out to the stables while the guys were busy. It was so peaceful in here, the only sounds soft and natural; horses chewing and softly blowing air out their noses, quiet nickers and the occasional scraping of hooves. I could understand why Ash spent so much time out here.
Queenie’s ears flickered just as my own ears picked up the sound of raised voices. My mouth went dry.
Calm down, Hope, don’t let your imagination run wild, I told myself sternly. Just because someone was upset didn’t mean trouble would follow.
With light steps I made my way to the open door, popping my head out an inch or so—just enough so I could peek around the frame.
A furious Ruarc stormed across the field separating the stables from the tall, majestic hedge hiding the house. When his glowing eyes found me he came to an abrupt stop, mouth moving in what I could only assume was a low curse. Running a hand through his hair, he closed the distance between us a little too quickly for my comfort.
“Where have you been?” he demanded, taking hold of my shoulders and giving me a slight shake. His voice was rougher than usual, a hard edge biting into his words.
“H-here?”
Despite his obvious anger, he treated me with care. His hold, though tight, was not harsh. It struck me as odd how such big, rough hands could be so gentle.
Ruarc growled, a sound that seemed a mix of ire and relief. “Couldn’t find you,” he muttered. For a brief moment, he leaned down, letting his forehead rest intimately against mine. I breathed in his enticing scent, forgetting all my worries as I let him hold me.
“Sorry,” I offered when my brain caught up with his words. “You were all busy so I thought I would visit Queenie.”
Ruarc jerked his head back, eyes narrowing dangerously. “You came by yourself?”