by Erica Woods
Blake threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Dead? Hah!” He kicked at Tim’s foot. “Get up, boy. Show the lady how very alive you are.”
Fascination warred with disbelief as I watched Tim peel himself off the ground. Once he was standing, swaying like he hadn’t quite caught his balance, he sent me a look filled with so much hate I automatically took a step back.
That time, Jason was the one who threw the punch, sending Tim flying a few feet before he landed with a dull thud.
I cringed at the sound, but when bile rose in my throat it was not in response to Tim, but something else. A feeling of wrongness. Of something I should have already felt but hadn’t.
My gut kept churning, and I spun in a circle, looking for what was missing. What was wrong.
Could it be—
An ugly feeling slithered up my spine, and then I knew. The thing wrong with this picture was . . . me.
I’d just seen a man beaten within an inch of his life, and I’d barely reacted. In fact, it hadn’t really bothered me too much. If Tim had only submitted, Ruarc wouldn’t have—
Wouldn’t have what? Why was I not more bothered when violence of any kind usually sent me fleeing? Was it Tim? I’d taken an instant dislike to the man, to his lanky build and hateful eyes, but that wasn’t reason enough. Did it have something to do with the evil inside me?
Dear god, is the monster affecting me more than I know?
“Well, Zakh, it looks like Ruarc and Jason share your opinion about Tim.” Blake grinned at the scary, bald giant. Zakh, I presumed.
The big man scoffed and pivoted in the direction of the house, the graceful movement so fast it was almost a blur. The only other person I’d seen who could rival his speed was Lucien, but with Zakh’s bulky build, I’d assumed he would be slow.
“Wh-where’s he going?” My whispered question was aimed at Ruarc, but it was Blake who answered.
“To find Ash.” Blake glanced at Ruarc’s tight jaw before his speculative gaze landed on me. He perused me with a distant interest, an interest that seemed to grow when Ruarc dragged me into his side, put an arm around my shoulder, and glared. “As you may have guessed, I am Blake,” he said. “I’m an old friend of Ash’s.” His lips spread in a movie-star smile. “Who might you be?”
“Oh. Uhm . . . I—” Before I could finish my sentence, a dark growl spilled from Ruarc.
“Her name’s Hope,” he said as the delicious vibrations of his aggressive warning danced across my skin. “All you need to know.”
Blake’s smile widened, showing a hint of sharp fangs—did all the men have fangs these days? “How fascinating.”
A low chuckle broke the rising tension. “Don’t mind Ruarc. He is just a smidgen”— Jason held up two fingers less than an inch apart—“protective.”
Blake laughed, a deep rolling sound of humor that untangled a piece of the anxiety in my belly.
A very small piece.
“Sounds like Ruarc,” Blake said with another warm smile. He had a dimple on the right side of his mouth. It was cute, but my observation was more of a ‘huh’ than any real admiration.
Another growl, then Ruarc grabbed my elbow and hoisted me in the air. I landed snug against his chest, one arm around my back and one under my knees.
I considered protesting, but I felt safer with Ruarc’s arms around me.
“Might as well go back to the house,” Jason said before Ruarc could take off. “Better she’s around all of us now that they’ve seen her.”
32
RUARC
The rise and fall of Hope’s melodic voice filtered through my brain—assuring me she was all right—while I glared at the office door. Was their fault, damned interlopers, that I was stuck here forced on the alert while Jason took advantage of my preoccupation.
Every time he made Hope’s voice lighten with contained laughter, my emotions were at war. On the one hand, the sound of her happiness was a balm to my battered senses, but on the other hand . . .
Another male was making my Hope smile.
Unacceptable.
Jason chuckled, a rich sound of seductive amusement he’d no doubt practiced to perfection. My fists curled under the kitchen table, wanting nothing more than to give that jaw a good, solid punch.
“Quiet,” I snarled at him, unease piercing my chest when Hope startled. I turned to her, trying to make my voice milder. “Not you.”
She nodded, the corner of her lips lifting to a half-smile. It took all my willpower to tear my eyes away from the softness I saw in her eyes and back to the door I was guarding.
It was imperative no one exited without my knowledge. Especially with Tim there.
I growled.
Jason grinned. “What do you think upset him now? The sound of birds singing? The wind blowing? Me breathing? Oh, definitely me breathing,” he said, without giving me the satisfaction of wincing under the fierce scowl I leveled at him. Instead, the smug bastard shot me a challenging grin that had me considering leaping across the table and biting his nose right off.
It would grow back . . . in a week or so. The thought made me bare my teeth in good humor. The little female wouldn’t like looking at him while he healed.
“He’s scary when he looks like that, isn’t he, love?” Jason’s conspiratory whisper reheated the anger simmering in my gut. Anger that grew at Hope’s lowered gaze, the hint of a smile curving lush lips.
Damned pup!
Fury melted on my tongue and grew teeth of its own, but before I could give Jason’s shin a good kick, the door opened.
I snapped to attention, tuning out even the warmth that was Hope. The first person out the door was Blake, of course. The Riverland’s alpha barely glanced my way before locking eyes on Hope.
My fangs lengthened in my mouth, a fact I took full advantage of when I gave him a good look at the weapons I would use to tear his throat out should he come near my little female.
The madman smiled at me. A full, warm spectacle of a smile that made me instantly suspicious.
Where the fuck has all the fear gone?
Males used to piss their pants when I turned my considerable temper in their direction. Not shoot me grins or smile like they were pleased.
I grumbled under my breath, watching as Blake whispered something to his second, Zakhar.
There was a male I didn’t mind; a vicious bastard who shared my reluctance to yammer when a frown was just as effective. From Russia originally, Zakh had immigrated long before the cold war, finding his particular talents better appreciated in a war-torn America. Some said he’d fought for the South, but I knew better. If that asshole had been fighting for the South, the world would have been a much different place.
Zakh nodded and followed him outside my line of vision. I bristled, torn between going after them to make sure they weren’t plotting anything nefarious, and staying here with Hope.
I stayed.
Lucien walked out next. The cold fury swirling in his green eyes when they locked on Tim pleased me. Lucien allowed the smallest space between his body and the door, forcing Tim to squeeze against the wall in order to pass. As the weaselly male slipped past, Lucien grabbed his arm and spoke in words too soft for me to pick up.
A grim smile pulled at my lips. Whatever had been said caused the weasel to lose what little color he had left, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a duck in a pond with each nervous swallow.
Run, weasel, run.
He scurried away with my glare burning into his back. One of his fisted hands twitched. Could he feel my desire to give chase? He’d threatened Hope. Threatened a female under my protection.
Claws burst from the tips of my fingers and dug into the wooden table. I grabbed a bowl of fruit, using it to cover the marks I’d left, then curled my hands into fists to hide the proof of my violent upheaval.
Guilt rose when I remembered the care Lucien had taken with crafting the furniture I’d just gouged, but I shook it off, pushed my chair back and jerked my chin
at Jason. “Stay here.”
He’d guard the little female while I was gone.
I left the kitchen before Hope’s questioning gaze could halt my step. Inside the office, I unclenched my hands so my bloody claws would stop tearing at my flesh.
“All good?” I asked Ash when he closed the door behind him.
“I am not sure,” he said. He walked past Lucien and took a seat on the wide couch Jason had insisted on moving in here, claiming the wooden seats were not comfortable for the long hours we sometimes spent in here. “There is a restlessness in Blake I have not sensed in the past. He is eager to put a stop to Rederick’s plotting, but he does not wish to wait for the Council to gather.”
I grunted. I knew how Blake felt. I, too, wanted to hunt the Black Mountain Pack, wanted to feel their blood dripping between my fangs before they could bring their ridiculous agenda before the Assembly. Too bad a little bloodshed wouldn’t fix anything.
“Blake will wait,” Lucien said, a chilling expression on his face as his gaze locked on the front door. “I don’t believe he’s our biggest issue.”
Ash frowned, a sight so rare I did a double take. “I agree. The youngster Blake brought, Tim—”
A vicious snarl ripped from my chest before I could stop it. “Pup’s all wrong.”
“I agree,” Ash said. “And I think Blake sensed it, too, long before today. A youngster that aggressive toward a female, regardless of species . . .” The air grew chilly. “No, this was a test for him, perhaps to see how he would act around another pack. And the way Zakh glared at him during the meeting indicates failure.”
Lucien’s upper lip curled. “Good riddance.”
“Even if Blake waits, which I believe he will, there are those that agree with Rederick,” Ash said. “Blake does not have enough allies to guarantee the vote goes in our favor.”
I bristled. “How stupid can they be?”
“We haven’t exactly made friends,” Lucien said with a glance in my direction. I’d been the enforcer for as long as we’d been a pack, and I was not known for my diplomatic skills. More than a few half-dead strays had limped away from our territory—even more hadn’t been able to leave at all—and while strays didn’t hold grudges, Alphas did.
Damned if I hadn’t pissed off nearly all of them at some point.
“No, we have not.” Ash sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was rare for him to show this much emotion. I experienced a flicker of regret for all the times I’d lost my temper with potential allies in the past. “Ruarc, you and I will need to schedule a trip over to Jorgen’s territory. Although they are few, they have ties with many of the larger packs. We need as many of them on our side as we can get, or this may be the start of another war.”
“Can’t leave,” I muttered. “Take Lucien.”
“Why me?”
“Don’t care about Hope.”
Lucien crossed his arms and sent me a piercing look. “And I suppose you do?”
“Yes.”
“So much so that you can’t stand to be parted from her for a day?”
I squared my shoulders and glared back. “Yes.” Our short time together had taught me many things about the little female. A pure heart beat in her chest. A bright soul shone in eyes that revealed deep emotions and too many nightmares. She cared for others, maybe too much, and not enough for herself. Next to her I was a brute, a savage, a giant, scarred male that spoke too little and snarled too much. And yet she’d held my hand, uncaring of their rough calluses and ugly scars. She’d let me hold her without stinking of fear, and instead of pity or disgust, understanding flashed across her expressive, heart-shaped face when she stared at the disfiguring scar twisting up my jaw and pulling at my lip.
“You are being utterly ridiculous.” Lucien turned pale, green eyes to Ash. “She’s human. Human! She’s been here for less than two weeks and he’s already this attached. What happens if she returns his sentiments? What happens if the Council finds ou—”
“Back. Off.”
Ash stepped between us. “Ruarc is no youngling, Lucien. We cannot control his actions.”
“You mean to do nothing while he destroys himself?”
All my muscles tensed, got ready to leap past our Alpha and tackle Lucien to the ground.
He dares imply she wouldn’t be worth it?
Female like her was too good for me. I’d settle for being a . . . a friend. Protector. Wanted to-needed to chase off those shadows clouding her bright eyes. Damned if I’d let Lucien’s ridiculous fears stand in the way! As if she’d ever want me back.
A vicious snarl scraping up my throat.
“Calm yourself, niijikiwenh.” Ash’s gaze was steady, the bright blues of his eyes resembling a calm sky, draining some of my anger. “You know Lucien means well. And you, Lucien . . . There are better ways to illustrate your concern.”
I grunted. It was difficult for us all to put aside our protective instincts. The bonds between brothers, especially the ones you chose for yourself, didn’t allow for carelessness or indifference. I understood his need to protect me, but the idea that I needed protecting from Hope?
Ridiculous.
“By the time I am proven right it will be too late.”
“Take your fucking opinion and shove it!” I snarled back.
Lucien’s frosty glare filled with cold, detached anger. “Use your head for once, you stubborn fool! You know nothing about the wench, besides the drivel she sees fit to share and the lies spewing from her deceitful lips. You’ve detested liars your whole life, when the devil did that change?”
A white hot rage roared through me. Gums itched, canines grew. Pain burned through nerve-endings in my fingers, and when I looked down at my clenched fists, blood ran in shiny rivulets down my scarred skin. That I’d pierced my own flesh barely registered as the roaring in my ears grew. All my focus was drawn to the male threatening my place with Hope. The male I was now convinced wanted me out of the way so he could steal my place at her side.
Never!
“I know she’s kind,” I pushed out. Talking was a bitch when your teeth weren’t made for a human mouth. “I know her compassion is greater than her sense of self preservation. She’s brave and—”
“Brave? The girl is scared of everything. She stammers when she speaks and she jumps at all sudden movements.” Lucien ground his teeth together. “Calling her brave is like claiming the rain is dry.”
“She’s brave,” I snarled. “Maybe it’s not the loud kind of courage of a male preparing to fight, but it’s courage all the same. She threw herself at Kieran to save Jason, for fuck’s sake!” The memory of that folly never failed to stir the coals of my fury. The thought of what could have happened . . . I bit my cheek, tasted blood, drew in three breaths.
Lucien crossed his arms and stared.
“To have gone through what she has . . .” I shook my head, marveling at her quiet strength and her will to continue fighting to survive when most would have given up. “She escaped,” I reminded him.
“You do not know what she has been through,” Lucien replied with no inflection to his tone. “She claims to have been abused. Claims to have escaped. For all we know she was never held captive to begin with.”
Fury snapped my spine straight, and I saw red. My next words were said with a killing quiet that Lucien better fucking hope he heeded, or my teeth were going to find his throat. “Never, never, question her abuse to me again!” My voice rose. “You think she abused herself? You think she stepped on a bear-trap on purpose?”
“Where are her scars?” Lucien retorted, the careful control he always kept wrapped around himself slipping. “If she was abused and held captive, shouldn’t she be riddled with scars? Humans do not heal like we do!”
For a second, he made me doubt—where were her scars?—but then I pictured Hope’s pale face, her wounded eyes and the expression of utter torment that came over her whenever she noticed that she gave away her fear, and my doubt vanished in a clou
d of certainty.
My little female has faced enough pain in her life. I won’t add to it by questioning the few secrets she has trusted enough to share with us.
No. Fucking. Way.
“I’m done with this.” I turned my back on them both. Ash should have fucking joined in and supported the female. No way he’d failed to see what I had.
I’d lived longer. Fought longer. But Ash saw things others didn’t. Wise. Perceptive. Controlled. He knew things other didn’t. Understood them.
So why the fuck didn’t he chime in now?
Lucien watched me through narrowed eyes but said nothing. I stopped glaring at him in favor of glaring at Ash.
“Give us a moment, Lucien,” Ash said.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lucien give a stilted nod, then he left. The door closed with a quiet click.
“I do not want to leave Hope either.” Ash’s admittance softened the feral edges of my temper. “The thought of leaving her with less protection does not sit well with me. Not now before we know all that has happened to her.”
I offered a grunt of agreement.
“But Ruarc . . .” A wave of unease went through me at Ash’s penetrating stare. “We need the votes. Think of Hope. And think of the other innocents that may suffer should Rederick win.”
He was right. Goddammit, he was right. “Fine. But we’re back in twelve hours.” This I wouldn’t budge on.
Ash nodded. “Twelve hours.”
Fixing my gaze at the opposite wall so I wouldn’t have to look at him, I muttered, “Sorry about the allies.”
“No need to be. If you had not done what you did, I probably would have. And that would not have ended well.”
Depends if you consider a bloodbath an acceptable outcome.
“Is Jason with Hope?” Ash asked after a brief pause. The thread of unease in his voice made my hackles rise.
“Yes,” I growled.
“Good. Let us go out there and see how our guests act in a more casual setting.”