by Dana Archer
She separated the muffin top from the bottom and broke a piece of the top section off. The moist, flavorful bite was the best thing she’d eaten in months. She closed her eyes and savored the taste of real food but pushed the dish aside in the next moment. Her time alone with Dante was limited. She needed to get as much information out of him before Xander and Vlad returned. Dante’s honest assessment of the pack was invaluable.
“And then there’s you. A lone cat but an honorary member of the Winchester pack.”
“Yep. I’m a special case. I’m one of those people the Winchester pack pitied and took in.”
“You?” She couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice. The tall, built man looked as if he could snap a man’s neck with ease and not bat an eye over the death. “They pitied you?”
He slid the dish back to her and waited until she took another bite before dragging a stool out and sitting next to her. “Yeah, me. At least they did until I matured. After that, they steered clear of me whenever possible, but they couldn’t get rid of me. I’d been accepted by the Winchester spirit during one of their monthly ritual things.”
“It must’ve considered you worthy.” From what Killer had said, the pack’s spirit was connected to their goddess and the founding father of the pack. It was wise, cunning, and could foresee the future.
“Suppose.” He laughed, an amused but condescending sound that matched the shake of his head. “Still freakin’ odd and unconventional. It’s not something I go around telling people about either.”
Yet he was telling her. She studied him. There was a depth to the man she suspected few people knew. Much like Killer. He’d proved himself a valuable ally. She suspected Dante would too. She’d be the same for him as she was to Killer, a friend who wouldn’t judge. “Why keep it a secret? I’d think it would be an honor.”
He picked up the napkin and unfolded the square before refolding it and placing it under the glass of juice. His movements struck her as controlled and deliberate, the kind her sister would’ve taken if she was trying to soften the blow about something or lie without making it sound like a fib.
“If you’d rather not say why you want to keep it a secret, I understand.” Though it’d disappoint her. She needed as many friends among the wolves as she could find.
“It’s not that.” He moved the glass and napkin a couple of inches closer to her. “It’s just not something I ever voiced before.” He tapped his chest with a balled fist. “I feel them. Xander’s pack. It’s like they’re a part of me, like they’re my pack.” He dropped his hand. “It’s unsettling at times. They’re an emotional lot, not like felines. It takes a lot to fire us up. Them?” He shook his head. “Everything sets them off. They’re always at each other’s throats. It irritates me.”
Gwen handed the bottom portion of her muffin to Dante. “So you grew up with Xander’s pack, right? How did that come about?”
He took her offering and ate it in two bites. “Xander and his little brother stumbled on my father beating me when I was a kid. After that, Xander took me home with him, and I grew up a Winchester.”
“What happened? Were your families neighbors or something?” She couldn’t imagine how else Xander would’ve been there to save Dante.
“No. It was at a meeting of the Shifter Council. Back then, those meetings were a huge event. It was the only time our kind got together and shared information. The heads of families would bring their sons or daughters they wanted to mate off. It’s all socializing and nonsense.” He took a sip of her OJ, then pushed the glass at her and waited until she drank before continuing. “I was seventeen, and it was my first time there. My father was presenting me as his next-in-line, but I mucked up his glory.”
“How?”
“I stood in front of the Council and told them I would be ashamed to lead a pride whose greatest accomplishment was in sacrificing Devin to appease the Council’s distorted views of the law, and once I took over, I’d get revenge for my brother.” He made a disgusted sound. “The elders kindly suggested to my father to bed my mother in hopes of birthing a proper son and do what it took to ensure I never accepted our family’s spirit.”
“Lena’s Devin?” Gwen gripped Dante’s forearm. “What did they do to him?”
“Tortured him. Did their best to make him feral.” Dante turned his head slowly, snagging her gaze. Respect showed in his expression. “But they didn’t break him. They just screwed him over good as an example to all those who thought to fight their rule. Your sister fixed him, though. Toughest, bravest woman I’ve ever seen.”
Questions surfaced. She wanted to know more, but set those aside. Lena should be the one to answer them. Gwen’s goal was to uncover more about Xander. Learning about his relationship with Dante would help her. “And that’s why your father beat you?”
“Yeah. Probably would’ve killed me too.” His brows pinched. “You know that, right? A Royal can shift almost immediately, but our immortality doesn’t kick in until maturity. I was a few years short of that.”
She nodded. Killer had told her that one night when he explained why he didn’t have a twin. His died in childbirth. “And Xander stopped your father?”
“Yeah. They fought. Got pretty nasty too. A big-ass tiger going after a wolf.” Dante flexed his hands, then splayed them on the table. “Xander held his own against my dad. Better, actually. Xander was fast. Kept landing blows that ripped my dad’s flank open. I just sat there in my jaguar form, bleeding and feeling pathetic, until this little freckle-faced kid who couldn’t have been more than five shifted into a red wolf and jumped into the fight.”
She covered her mouth, fear for this unknown boy gripping her. “Did he get hurt?”
“Hurt?” Dante grinned. “Sure. But he didn’t die. He went after my dad with a ferocity I swear I’ve never seen in a cub before or after that day. I joined in then too. Couldn’t sit back while this kid fought my battle. Good thing I did. I saved him from getting his throat ripped out by my dad. A few of the other wolf alphas jumped in then and forced my dad back. He shifted into his human form and banished me from the pride, saying if I wanted to return, I’d have to beg his forgiveness.”
“I’m guessing you never did.”
“Nope. Never left Winchester pack lands until after we moved to America and Eli went missing during the Civil War. Then I started working as an undercover agent and assassin, following any lead I could, but I never found Eli.” Frustration tightened Dante’s voice. Or maybe pain. Either way, Eli’s loss bothered Dante. She could see that in his eyes. No longer cold and indifferent, they burned.
“I’m sorry. Was Eli another member of the Winchester pack or a friend of yours?”
Dante shoved from his stool, knocking it over in the process, and walked toward a writing desk tucked into an alcove next to a breakfast nook. He opened the drawers and searched through them, obviously looking for something. “He was the redheaded kid who attacked my dad. Eli and I were inseparable after that day. I hate that I failed him, that he’s out there somewhere suffering.”
“Are you sure he’s still alive?”
“Yes. Xander would’ve felt his death. And sometimes when he and his pack gather for their monthly full moon celebration, he’ll get glimpses of him. We know Eli’s being held in a cage somewhere, living like an animal.” Dante pulled a metal box off the built-in bookshelf next to the desk. “Ah-ha. There’s got to be a picture in here. When photography was first invented, Xander went nuts taking pictures of everything.”
She ate the last of her muffin top and drank the orange juice while Dante sorted through the pile of loose photos, then walked over to him. Most of the pictures were faded and curled at the edges. She picked up an old black-and-white one of Xander and Vlad leaning against a bar with beer bottles in their hands and a dark-haired, exotic young woman between them.
Although the sight of the woman with an arm around their waists stirred Gwen’s irritation, she focused on the two men. No sign of the animosity she’d
witnessed these last couple of days showed on their faces. They were smiling and completely focused on the girl in their arms.
Dante tapped the picture. “That’s you. Well, Tabitha. The three of you met at a rock concert. Xander got called away on pack business, and Tabitha ended up in Vlad’s bed. Ticked Xander off big-time. He ordered Vlad to follow up on a lead on Eli that turned out to be a dead end. While he was gone, Xander seduced Tabitha. Vlad showed up while they were in bed together. They fought, and Tabitha ran. Poor girl got picked up by a trafficking group and died.”
Gwen traced the woman’s features, but no sense of recognition flared. She couldn’t remember that life any more than she could Elizabeth’s. “I don’t remember being her.”
“Why would you? From what I understand, memories get wiped clean each time you die. Of course, the single shifters say each life’s experiences leave their mark on a soul, and deep emotional ties, whether based on love, friendship, or hatred, will carry over into other lifetimes.”
Dante grabbed another stack of photos and started going through them, discarding them one by one in the box he’d pulled them from. “The witches call it soul-imprinting and say human souls experience the phenomena too. Many of our elders don’t believe them, but I do. Seen too many crazy things in my life.”
“I can imagine.” Xander and Vlad would likely have experienced much in their long lifetimes too.
“So even though your mind might not retain the memories, your soul does. You just need to listen to it and…” Dante picked up a picture and stared at it for a long moment before dropping it over Tabitha’s. “That’s—”
“Killer.” Heart beating wildly, she snatched the photo. “That’s Killer.”
Dante lifted her chin, forcing her gaze away from the faded black-and-white picture of the man who’d saved her life. “The shifter who protected you? Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She’d know his face anywhere. “I’ve never seen him happy, but this is Killer. I swear it. The freckles. His eyes. The scar over his lips. It’s him.”
Dante’s mouth curved into a smile, but his cold, dark eyes held no warmth. “You’re going to help me find him, little sister.”
“Of course. I’ll do anything to bring him home. I wouldn’t be here without him.”
“Then prepare to tick off your mates. They’re not going to like you getting involved.”
She inhaled sharply at the confirmation. “Xander and Vlad? It’s true, then? They’re both mine.”
“I’m guessing. I bet they are too, especially now that the singles proved it’s possible, but don’t expect it’ll be easy. The Winchesters have a long history of mating for power, not love. And you”—Dante tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear—“are the epitome of softness.”
“Weak, you mean.”
Dante handed her the pictures of Tabitha and Eli and dumped the rest in the box. “Strength comes in many forms. Remember what I said about your big sister.”
“Lena’s tough.” Gwen tapped her chest with her free hand. “Here. I’m not.”
Dante leaned against the bookcase and crossed his arms over his chest. “If you weren’t what Xander and Vlad need, the Winchesters’ goddess wouldn’t keep dropping you into their lives. Trust me on that. She wants her descendants to thrive, and the Winchester pack is her only tie to the human world.”
“He’s alpha.”
“And?” Dante cocked a brow.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to be the alpha female.” She shook her head. Voicing her doubts proved harder than she’d like. “I know it’s possible, but I don’t know if it’d be the best thing. Xander said he’d punish anyone who hurt me, even if it’s only my feelings that get crushed. That’ll cause more harm than good. Maybe he should give up the pack.” Then he wouldn’t face a challenge either.
“No.” Dante’s harsh word dropped between them. “If he does, he’ll blame you for eternity. He’s alpha. He’ll always be alpha, even if he gave the pack spirit to someone else. He just wouldn’t be able to act as one, and that’ll leave him bitter.”
She rubbed at her achy eyes. Dante was right. Eternity was a long time to hold on to resentment.
Dante awkwardly patted her back. “Look, I don’t have an answer for you. I’ve never been in a relationship, and I avoid taking lovers unless it’s for a job. My hand is good enough for me.”
She scrunched her nose at the vulgar reference, and Dante laughed. He grabbed her upper arm and led her to the staircase. “Come on, little sister. You should get some rest. You’ve got the fight of your life ahead of you.”
No truer words had been said. She had to find Eli, figure out how to be an alpha female, discover the truth about her past with Xander and Vlad, and decide if their unusual relationship was worth fighting for.
The biggest obstacle of all, however, would be hers alone to overcome. Until she learned all the details being kept from her, she’d never be able to let the hurt of the past go. The unknown would feed her resentment, turning her bitter and angry, and that would destroy everything.
Chapter 22
Flashes of faces and snippets of memories assaulted Killer. He couldn’t separate them. Couldn’t place them. They were a jumbled mess. The voices in his head struck him as familiar, though. Their mumbled words calmed him, even as his mind unraveled. The part of him that could still reason understood why. They were pack.
He missed them.
Grimacing, Killer gripped handfuls of his hair and tugged. The sharp bite of pain slowed the rapid slideshow. Not enough, though. He grabbed the bars of his cell and smacked his forehead against the metal until dizziness made him sway and blood ran down his face.
The blur of scenes slowed. A man’s face came into focus. Short black hair, cold black eyes, and an emotionless face—a killer. A real one, not like him, a male who annihilated his enemies in order to survive. This black-eyed man who dominated Killer’s mind was the kind of male who could end someone’s life and not feel remorse.
Assassin.
Yes, that word fit. This male was an assassin. He was also important to Killer. Had to be. Why else would his face take center stage in Killer’s chaotic mind?
Eyelids squeezed shut, Killer concentrated on the male, trying to place him, but fuzziness ate at the image as his body healed the injuries he’d caused.
Killer flexed his hands. Longer, sharper nails slipped from the ends of his fingers. He dug them into his pecs and dragged them across his chest, ripping his body open. Raw, burning pain spread through him, countering the iciness in his veins that left him incoherent and sluggish.
The haziness eating away at the memory faded, bringing the black-eyed male’s features back into focus. His wider nose and more pronounced cheekbones marked him as a feline shifter. Not pack, then. Not even close.
Who was he?
Killer curled his hands, deepening the wounds in his chest. More blessed pain. More fire. The cold, slithering poison in his veins receded. Slowly, the veil around the memory fell, yanking Killer from his cold cell to the forest where this male waited to talk to him.
* * *
Chirping birds echoed. The sun cut a dappled pattern on the forest floor. And the stench of death surrounded them. Killer swept his gaze over the area. Rotting body parts littered the ground. All human. He didn’t recognize their faces, but the red flag with its blue “x” and stars struck him as familiar.
A growl shook Killer’s chest as he took in the senseless carnage. Their human neighbors’ enemy did this. Confederates, they called themselves. They’d come here to hurt those who opposed their right to own their brethren based on the color of their skin. Killer had never cared what the humans fought over until they’d come here to slaughter his pack’s neighbors.
Soon, they’d come for his pack mates.
“We need to divert them from our valley.” The black-eyed male’s words pulled Killer’s attention from the carnage to him.
A cool breeze blew strands of red hair into Ki
ller’s eyes. He shoved them back and swept his gaze over the other male. A long coat hid his body, and baggy pants were tucked into worn laced-up boots.
No name came to him. No other memories, save this one. No sense of why this feline shifter mattered. Yet, the other male’s commanding aura drew Killer closer. He stepped over the corpse at his feet and closed the distance between them.
“I will lead them away.” The statement came out of Killer’s mouth. It wasn’t what he wanted to say but memories were like that. When they came, they forced him to recall the past. He couldn’t change them no matter how much he tried.
“No, you’re a fighter, not a leader.”
Killer shoved the male, knocking him back a step. The feline didn’t even try to hold his ground. He laughed. “That all you got, Red?”
“Bastard.” Killer balled his fists but didn’t bother throwing the punch. The feline liked getting him riled up. Anger toughened a shifter, he’d often said. Made them stronger. Worthier.
The feline shifter lifted his upper lip in an amused smirk. “Problem?”
“Yes, you. I’m in no mood for games. Those humans need to be stopped before they come our way.”
“Exactly.” The feline shifter nodded. “And while I’m dealing with them, you’ll stand guard over your immature pack mate. With her white hair, she’ll be labeled a freak, and if they hurt her—”
* * *
A jolt of electricity whipped through Killer’s body, pulling him out of the memory. He tumbled backward, landing on his backside as his muscles spasmed. Glorious pain strung his body tight. Killer embraced it for a moment, relishing the ability to feel the searing heat, then hopped to his feet. He bared his fangs at the ancient wolf Royal standing on the other side of the bars.
“You.” Killer moved toward the iron bars separating them. He locked his gaze on the other male’s orange eyes. “Why did you come back?”