by Christa Wick
"Not for me," Esme agreed. "And apparently not for my mother because she escaped while they were transporting her to the Witches Council for trial. One of the witches from West Virginia had come to bind her with magic--"
"They didn't trust you to do it?" Iris asked.
"Not everyone," Esme agreed. "The Virginia witch charmed silver handcuffs, a silk blindfold with silver threading through it. My mother might have had help, especially considering how the wolves were killed. It was clear they put up a fight and..."
Esme's gaze blanked for a moment as her face pulled downward. An image flashed in Iris's mind. Two wolves, one no older than Jet, the other somewhere in his forties. Bodies that might have once been robust looked like the husks of dead insects, their insides torn out and a thick blood of pool around them.
The scent of death filling her nostrils, Iris dropped the needle and witch's lace onto the coffee table. Esme blinked, snapping back from the memory and reaching toward Iris to offer and draw comfort.
"I'm sorry," the witch whispered. "If you were wholly wolf, I don't think you would have seen that. I didn't mean to push it at you, either."
Iris shook her head. "I'm not wolf at all."
"You heal like a wolf," Esme gently argued.
"That's the magic, you can self-heal--"
The witch rolled her eyes at Iris. "You smell like a she-wolf in heat. And it doesn't take a shifter's nose. Any latent can smell it on you."
Iris dismissed the argument with another shake of her head. "You said latents can bear cubs--"
Grabbing both of Iris's hands, Esme pulled the woman closer. "You've disclaimed the idea that you are a latent and, anyway, we don't come into heat like a female shifter does. At least not that we know. What you're suggesting is only possible if there are latents and alpha latents, and we have no proof of that."
Esme captured Iris's head before the she-wolf could respond with another shake. "We don't need to debate this right now. You just need to be open to how much things have changed since you left the clan. You probably were aware of how pregnancies were already decreasing when you left. But then, for ten years, not a single known conception among the clans."
Iris pulled her head from Esme's light hold. Finding Oscar's file, she wrapped her fingers around it. "But cubs were born during that period."
Esme nodded. "And now, with both mated female shifters and latents conceiving, there are a few pregnancies announced each month."
The witch looked away. A second later, Iris caught the fresh scent of tears being shed. She curled a hand around Esme's shoulder.
"You haven't yet?" Iris asked. "Conceived, I mean. I don't smell a cub in you, but I thought you might be using magic to keep the news secret for now."
Still refusing to look at the she-wolf, Esme answered with a softly whispered, "No, I'm not pregnant. And not for lack of trying."
Outside, Dana started to pace the length of the porch, stopping every few seconds to look at his mate.
"Give me a second before he breaks the door down." A small, weepy hiccough erupted from Esme and then she pushed off the couch. An instant later, she was on the porch and wrapped in her mate's arms, her generous curves all but hidden by Dana's fierce embrace.
Iris pretended to study the contents of the box Esme had brought in. The first layer after the supplies Esme had packed consisted of fist-sized crystals of citrine, amethyst and rose quartz. Beneath them, a solid row of dowels from various types of wood, symbols carved into them. Leather journals rested on the bottom.
Retrieving one of the dowels, she studied the wards and tried hard not to eavesdrop on the couple. Kiss followed murmur followed kiss, the words ceasing altogether after the first minute. From the corner of one eye, Iris saw the play of lips and tongues, her curiosity pricked by the way Dana subtly asserted his dominance over the witch.
She noted how his approach was exactly the same as if he had a distraught female shifter in his arms instead of a latent. The deep, tongue-filled kisses reminded her of an article she had read on human kissing and males transferring testosterone to the females to increase their odds of getting laid. It struck her that wolves did something similar, but for different reasons. Whatever hormone or other chemical Dana transferred to Esme, the intent was too calm, not arouse. Watching them, she realized she had seen the same interaction dozens of times growing up, had even been on the receiving end of such kisses from Cade a time or two.
Pushing the image of Cade Mercer from her mind, Iris tilted her head just enough to catch Dana's expression as he comforted his mate. Unlike the spiritual sickness that infected so many human families, Iris could see that Dana would die for Esme.
The dowel broke in her hands, witch light shooting from the ends as if Iris held a lightning rod. Her gaze jumping to the porch once more, Iris watched as Esme detached from Dana, the shifter clearly unwilling to allow his mate back in a room where a crazy woman was throwing bolts of witch light around like confetti.
"Well, that was interesting," Esme joked as she used all her weight to shut the front door while keeping Dana on the other side of it. She only succeeded because he clearly wanted to avoid injuring his mate by forcing the door open.
Dropping the ends of the dowel to the floor, Iris covered her face and whispered. "Sorry, I don't know why that happened."
A soft "mmm-hmm" told her the witch wasn't buying her story.
Behind Esme, the silver bells began to bounce lightly.
"That will be Jet," Esme chirped. "Good thing, too. I don't think I can keep Dana out on the porch when I tell you what happened to Leah and me when the Hunters captured us."
"He's crazy about you." Reaching between her legs, Iris scooped up the broken dowel and handed it to Esme.
Inspecting the piece of wood, Esme nodded. "It's easy to see love when it's not your heart on the line."
Rolling her eyes, Iris snorted. "You're going to keep dropping anvils on my head, aren't you?"
A smile fought to break out at the corner of the witch's mouth, but she managed to keep her lips pressed together in a neutral line. "Is that what I was doing?"
Iris nodded. "Not that it will change anything," she continued. "It only took half a second of my foot in my mouth to drive Cade away."
"Oh, honey!" The witch erupted in laughter just as Jet pulled up to the front porch. "Cade's ass is parked on Dana's couch. I won't say you didn't hurt his feelings pretty bad, but he isn't going anywhere, at least not until he has you convinced to go with him."
Eyes drifting shut to control the tears, Iris shook her head. She would give anything to have what she had witnessed on the porch between Esme and Dana. But Dana had always known Esme was a witch. Just like Cade had always "known" that Iris was a wolf -- even if he was dead wrong.
Lifting her gaze once more, Iris let the witch's warmth blanket her before she spoke.
"Finish telling me why you stayed."
Chapter Nine
"I'm just asking for a few days of you not crowding her." Shooting a side eye in Cade's direction, Esme placed the crystals and dowels in a safe in Dana's office. She had left the journals behind for Iris to sift through. "She really could use some space and time to process things."
Cade returned the side eye, his words rumbling just a few decibels above a growl. "She's had twelve years."
Esme slammed the safe door shut and spun the dial before turning her full scowl directly on Cade. "And her whole world changed two days ago!"
"Only because she left her world -- our world -- to begin with." Cade shifted in his chair, his flaring temper lodged firmly between his deep affection for the witch who scolded him and her overprotective mate watching the exchange from the corner of one yellow eye. "I don't want those wolflings guarding her."
Esme rested her hands on her ample hips, her long skirt swirling around her ankles as she came to a full stop a foot from Cade. "Believe me, they don't want to watch her. Their dicks are wilted around any female for the next few weeks from the potion
I gave them. Colt actually had tears in his eyes when he finished drinking it!"
The exclamation brought a deep chuckle from Dana as he sifted through papers. "Nothing that cub likes more than his dick," Dana agreed.
"I'm not worried about them wanting to fuck her. She made it more than clear she doesn't want a shifter in her...bed." Cade's eyes drifted shut as his jaw worked side to side. "But they aren't experienced enough to handle her if she wants to leave or to protect her if we come under attack."
"She won't leave any time soon. She wants to help the cubs and she has nowhere to go." Tired of trying to glare Cade into submission, Esme sank into an oversized chair next to Dana's desk as she changed tactics. "You love her, right?"
"She's my mate," Cade growled.
Scooping up a sheet of paper Dana had just crushed into a ball, Esme tossed it at Cade, her magic guiding it so that it bounced lightly off his nose. "And if that's all you've ever told her -- hey baby, you're my mate -- then you need a hard kick in the nuts, you idiot!"
Another chuckle escaped Dana, deeper and longer than his mirth over Colt's predicament.
Retrieving the ball of paper, Cade rose and walked to the trashcan. He dropped the paper inside and turned so that his body angled slightly toward the door of Dana's office. "I appreciate the morning's hospitality--"
"If that's your way of telling me to butt out, you need to be more direct, Cade Mercer." Seeing him take his first step toward leaving the room, Esme passed her hand in front of her. The door slammed shut and locked. "If you love her, you'll give her more time and you'll trust that she only left because she had to."
Cade froze mid-step and turned back to the witch. "Did she say that? Did she tell you why she left?"
Esme hesitated before shaking her head. "She didn't tell me and I didn't ask."
Cade moved until he stood directly in front of Esme. Bending, he wrapped his hands around the sides of the chair she sat in, ignoring Dana's warning growl.
"Did you see why she left?"
"No. She's locked up so damn tight, I can't see what drove her away," she answered without hesitation. "Trying to read her isn't anything like it is with humans or other latents. Iris is incredibly powerful, both her wolf and her magic. But I know something terrible happened to her."
"If she hasn't told you and you can't see it, then you know nothing." Despite his denial, all the blood drained from Cade's face as he straightened. Esme rose from her chair, wrapped her hands around his elbows and turned, forcing him to sit down.
"It might have been after she left the clan, but I don't think so." Shooting a glance in her mate's direction, Esme drew a slow breath and held it.
"Tell me what you're holding back," Cade begged, capturing the witch's hands and squeezing.
"We had a long discussion -- about Quentin, how he kidnapped me and Leah, the brutality..."
Dana stilled, his expression freezing. Unwinding her hands from Cade's, Esme approached her mate. The back of her fingers, glowing with witch light, brushed against his cheek before she lightly kissed his mouth. Sliding his chair away from the desk, he pulled her down and bundled her onto his lap.
Satisfied her presence in her mate's embrace would keep Dana soothed, Esme looked at Cade and continued. "She started to shake like she was terrified. Like she was remembering something similar happening to her or fighting like hell not to remember. I felt her fear, even if I couldn't see its cause. Suffocating...bleak...and so much physical pain that I still ache from the memory."
A shudder ran through the witch's body. She buried her face against Dana's neck. He stroked her hair, his chair gently rocking until she recovered her composure and looked at Cade once more. "Do you really think a human could have frightened or hurt her so badly she still carries that kind of fear from the experience?"
Cade shook his head. "Even at eighteen, she could have snapped a human's neck if she wanted to. She just didn't have confidence in her ability to do so."
Dana grunted in agreement. "That leaves Hunters or another wolf. And if it was Hunters, wouldn't she--"
Dana went silent as Esme's cell phone buzzed from inside the heavy folds of her skirt. She fished it from the pocket and looked at the display.
"One second, it's Leah." Despite the grim talk, she brought the phone to her ear and answered with a smile on her lips. "Hello bestie, can this wait?"
"Oh, Seth..." The smile fell from her face, the lips parting to show a hint of teeth as she sucked a deep breath in. Frantically untangling from Dana's arms, she stood.
"Okay, I'm on my way." She snapped the phone shut then rifled through her pockets as she headed toward the office door.
Dana lifted her car keys from where she had left them on his desk and jingled them at her. "Baby, what's wrong?"
Spinning around, Esme bobbed her hands in the air, her mouth refusing to work for a few seconds before she blurted, "Baby!"
Her breathing quickened as her hands made an impotent, grabby gesture at her keys.
"You mean a baby, baby?" Dana asked, coming around his desk at the same time Cade stood up.
"Yes!" Esme nodded. "Leah's water just broke. She's having the baby!"
Chapter Ten
Dirt clogged her mouth and nose. Her throat convulsed and her gut twisted with the choking need to vomit as the clumps of soil and grass cut off her air and many unidentified somethings wriggled and crawled against her tongue and gums and cheeks. A heavy knee pressed against her spine. One hand threaded through her hair, pulling her head up just enough for her to spit out the dirt and insects and see the deep hole that had been dug in the ground in front of her.
Two males, wolves from another clan or even rogues, worked next to the makeshift grave as they positioned fifty gallon drums. Thick rubber gloves covered their hands. The liquid sloshing inside the barrels hissed when it breached the bung cap and kissed air.
They were going to kill her, put her in the ground and pour some kind of acid over her to destroy her scent and any evidence, but not until after Hank Mercer had humiliated her.
Claws ripped at her clothes, shredding the fabric and the first layer of skin beneath.
"Kill her already," one of the men yelled. Sweat poured down his face despite the cool weather and stiff breeze.
"Why?" Hank grunted. "Not like the bitch is gonna shift on me."
That was it -- the reason she would soon be dead. She couldn't shift and Cade Mercer wanted to spend the rest of his life with her anyway. Hank had other plans for his son -- pack leader, maybe even clan leader one day. That would never happen with her by Cade's side.
Rolling Iris onto her back, Hank shredded her blouse, gouging channels in her pale, soft flesh. She screamed. Pain rolled her eyes back in her head, but not before she saw the second male staring at the blood, his mouth slightly ajar and a quiet, mesmerized smile on his face.
She swung a fist at Hank's head, all her fleeting strength focused on one last shot. Her hand connected with his cheek, but the blow only pissed him off even more. He punched her face. The cartilage in her nose snapped slow and wet, like green twigs stepped on after a morning rain. Blood spurted, drops of it landing in her eyes to paint her entire vision red.
One of the men, the sick bastard that had been watching with fascination, kneeled next to Hank. He had a knife of some kind, long and with a narrower blade than she had ever seen.
"Silver?" Hank snarled. "You dumb ass motherfucker! Get that the fuck away from me!"
Ignoring Hank, the man put the edge of the blade against Iris's throat. It felt dull, but her skin started to heat and tingle at contact. The sensation quickly spread along her body, buzzing in her head and along her limbs. The fine, almost invisible hairs along her neck and arms rose as if she were standing in the middle of a field during an electrical storm.
The tips of her fingers went numb and then blazed white hot. The air crackled and sizzled. On either side of her, the two strangers fell to the ground, their bodies engulfed in blue flame. Light of the
same hue as the fire danced in the palm of her hand as she reached for the abandoned blade.
Hank got to it first, burying its tip deep into her chest. Searing heat engulfed her flesh and she heard the air whoop as it left the pierced lung. Another zap of energy and the light jumped from her palm to forcefully collide with Hank Mercer's face.
His head snapped back, his stunned body falling to the side. Pulling the blade out of her chest, Iris rolled toward him and slammed the entire dagger, point first, into his gut. She twisted the hilt, the thumb of her other hand trying to gouge its way through his eye and into his brain.
Shrieking filled her ears as the other men burned. The flames jumped from the body closest to her to the barrel filled with acid. The air turned poisonous, burning her eyes and throat as the acid bubbled along the rim of the barrel's cap and the entire container started to bulge.
Releasing Hank, she tried to stand, every neuron in her brain firing with the command to RUN as fast and far as she could. Her legs wouldn't obey. They folded beneath her. She clawed at the ground, pulling and pushing, torso thumping against the dirt.
A hand grabbed her ankle. She looked over her shoulder at the murderous gaze of Hank Mercer, respected pack leader and father of the man she loved.
"I'll kill him if you come back," he snarled. "Him and that bitch grandmother of yours..."
She kicked her foot, her shoe connecting hard enough with Hank's face that his grip slipped. Grabbing the hilt of the silver blade, he pulled it from his stomach, the flesh protesting wetly as it was forced to release the metal.
He was healing, faster than she could hope to match. Tears of pain, still crimson tinged from the blood spilled, filled her eyes as she forced her legs to lift her mass and move forward in a stumbling run away from certain death.
********************
The blare of a horn jerked Iris upright and onto her feet, her hand instinctively landing on the nightstand in search of the pistol Cade had stripped from her weeks ago. Half caught in the nightmare from which the horn had woken her, she could feel Hank Mercer's hot breath on her back as she ran, her lower limbs like spider legs, everything disjointed, disobedient and unwieldy.