Ice Bear's Bid (Northbane Shifters Book 4)

by Isabella Hunt

  Gritting my jaw against laughter or words or more insanity, I merely nodded. But holding it all in only seemed to encourage the warmth in my blood, disarming what little defense I could muster. Turning my back on Iris, I fumbled with the bag, folding up my jacket and then unfolding it, taking out breakfast and then rummaging around for—what? I couldn’t remember what I was doing. Why was it so hard to friggin’ think right now?

  Finally, I got Iris breakfast and packed my bag. It took far longer than it should have, but if we left now, we could be almost halfway to Winfyre by tomorrow. And I planned on staying a bear as much as possible. Safer and more prudent for Iris’s sake.

  After I'd found Iris a jacket, we left the tree house, with me determined to say nothing more than necessary. Another strange thing, having to even be conscious of that. Usually, I had no idea how quiet I was until Rett or Tristan pointed it out. Not like they didn't talk enough for Luke, Xander, and I combined. Never mind Laia and Sierra, Rett’s and Tristan's respective mates.

  I wondered what they’d make of Iris, and a nerve seemed to snap in my stomach.

  Shit. I also realized if Iris told them about my staying a bear, I’d never hear the end of it. But asking her not to say anything didn’t sit well with me. I’d leave it alone. It would be fine.

  Only, the closer we got to Winfyre, the more that nerve snapped and roiled in my stomach.

  Iris had spent most of the day walking alongside me, quiet and content, smiling a little to herself. Maybe I’d explain to her that if we got set upon by remnants of Skrors or Sarrow’s men, it would be better if I were like this. It was nothing personal.

  It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you, I could say. It’s just that I don’t think I should.

  Wait, what?

  I stumbled and shifted back without meaning to. In my shock, my hands flew to my chest to ensure I wasn’t dreaming. For the second time today, I was dismayed to find out I was all too awake.

  Shit, that had never happened before.

  “Kal?” Iris had stopped and was gazing up at me. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice a little strangled to my own ears. “Need a break—quick break. Snack.”

  “Oh, good,” Iris said with a small laugh. “For a moment, I thought you’d tripped.” Then she hunched up and fluttered her hands. “But what am I thinking? That wouldn’t happen to you.”

  It just did.

  Looking around, I couldn’t have picked a worse place to stop and take the so-called break. We were on a thin path, one side sloping down to a lake, and the other overflowing with knotted pines. No place to comfortably stand or sit.

  For a moment, I considered shifting back. Anything to avoid these crackling nerves and the way Iris unsettled my entire world even when we were walking just like this. But I kept walking, running a hand over a knot in my shoulder and trying to think of something to say.

  To my relief, we rounded a corner, and there were boulders up ahead. Acting as though I’d chosen this spot, I strode up to them and tossed my pack onto a smaller one. Pulling out a handful of rations, I found two apples I’d picked up the other day and offered one to Iris.

  “Wow, my favorite,” she said and smiled at me. I nodded and turned back to my bag. There was silence for a few moments, then Iris asked, “What’s the name of this lake?”

  “Gimbor,” I said.

  “Wonder what it was before,” she murmured, and I shrugged. “You don’t?”

  “No,” I said and stopped myself before I could say more.

  Instead, I folded my arms on top of the boulder and stared out at the lake. Shafts of late afternoon sunlight pierced through the heavy clouds, and a frigid breeze blew wildly through the treetops every once in a while. The hills around the Gimbor Lake were a riot of color.

  By the time we were finished, I was congratulating myself for getting a grip. I glanced over at Iris and saw she was gazing up at the sky with a hint of a smile on her face. Then her eyes fell, and my fist clenched so tightly, I crushed the apple core to nothing but juice.

  Hastily, I swung my hand down and shook it off, wiping my sticky fingers on my pants. Iris didn’t react or say anything, leaving me to believe she didn’t notice.

  Or maybe she was nice enough not to say anything.

  “Ready?” I asked, and she nodded.

  And shifting back, we set off again.

  Chapter Six

  Kal

  Over the next two days, everything went so according to plan, it almost made me more uneasy than if things had gone wrong. First, I managed to keep my conversations with Iris short and sparing. It helped that we were both so tired, we basically set up camp, ate, and went to sleep.

  Second, we’d been knocking out almost double the number of miles I wanted to get through every day. The Farthing Mountains were no longer an idea on the horizon but looming sharply overhead. By tonight, we’d be within Winfyre’s borders and well on our way to the south gate.

  Third, there had been no sightings of Sarrow or Excris. I’d been certain he’d come after us or at least alert those foul beasts we had Orion’s book. Of all the things I’d expected to go amiss, this last was the one digging into my brain in the middle of the night. I’d wake up and glance at my pack, wondering if I should even bring the damn book into Winfyre in the first place.

  It wouldn't be the first time the Excris had tried to play our own hand against us. I only supposed I should be grateful it was leather, paper, and ink, rather than a flesh-and-blood shifter. Several hours later, too, it was no wonder I had a headache.

  We were approaching a narrow path filled with rockfall scree. The Anklebiter, as my brothers called it, was a long, slippery, and steep climb into Winfyre. It was also the most direct.

  The sun was slipping behind a tall, craggy peak to the west, and when the wind blew, you could almost smell the ocean. Usually, the scent of home, a mix of pine and salt, loosened the knot of tension in my back. Instead, it intensified, and I paused, my thoughts turning to the book.

  Should I burn the damn thing? I wondered again, like I’d wondered repeatedly as I’d brought it closer and closer to Winfyre. Or do we need it?

  “You’re worried, huh?” asked a voice at my elbow.

  I jumped, more from the question than anything. “Uh,” I said slowly as I met Iris’s warm brown eyes. “Tend to expect the worst where Orion is concerned.”

  “Yeah,” Iris said and hugged herself, frowning. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. We ignore his book at our peril—but who knows if we want to know what’s inside it?”

  “Exactly,” I said, and now the damn knot in my back loosened. “It’s a double-edged sword.”

  “Well, ‘the pen is mightier than the sword,’ and all that,” Iris said with a sweet smile.

  I let out a bark of laughter. “You mean we can gut Excris with words? I wish.”

  “Maybe the clue to that is in those pages,” Iris said. “Sarrow seemed pretty hellbent on getting it out of his possession as soon as possible.”

  I stared at her, my brain whirring at her words. All this time, I’d thought the Excris had snatched Orion’s book back because it contained information on shifters, and I was sure it did. But perhaps it also contained, inadvertently or on purpose, information on the Excris. Or the Bloodfang.

  “I could be wrong,” Iris said.

  “No, I think you might be right,” I said. “We’ll find out soon enough.” Iris’s smile grew, and she tucked her hair behind her ears, looking pleased. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Dropping my gaze back to the path, I said, “Here, let me go first.”

  “Okay, thank you,” Iris said.

  Wet leaves clung to the edges of the path, drifting down from the trees lining the ridges above us. The smooth walls of the rock made for poor gripping, and I wondered if it would be better to go around to the Southern Pass. There was a reason this climb wasn’t popular.

  And this wasn’t
working. I sighed. Only one way that made sense.

  “Actually, Iris.” I glanced back and held out a hand. “You should go first.”

  “Okay,” she said, and her fingers looped around mine.

  I swallowed, quickly pulling her in and ahead of me, then letting go. But the warm pressure lingered, and besides, wouldn’t it be prudent to keep holding hands?

  Stretching out her hands, Iris sort of paddled as she walked up the path, laying her palms flat on the rock to steady and propel herself. It wasn’t something I would have thought of, and I followed her lead, both amused and impressed.

  The steepness of the path increased, as did the number of wet leaves. A storm must have torn through here recently, probably hanging over the mountains before rolling off east. It was the rainiest season in Winfyre, the fall months filled with days of heavy storms. Usually, it didn't hit this corridor of the Farthing until later, though.

  “We’re almost there,” I said to Iris, who’d paused as the path widened and no longer offered a decent handhold anywhere. “You want me to go first?”

  “No, I like knowing you’re there,” Iris said, frowning. Then her cheeks flushed, and she shot me a sheepish smile, making it hard to breathe. “I mean, you won’t let me fall off this mountain.”

  “Of course not. You’re safe.” I paused, struggling to focus and not smile. Why did Iris have to say disarming things like that at the worst times? “Go on.”

  As we continued on, a cold splash of water hit my forehead, and I glanced up. There were patches of amber sky between the clouds, clouds that were thickening quickly. Another drop hit my face, and I suddenly realized where all the path's detritus had come from.

  When it rained, this path turned into a sluiceway of mud, rocks, and leaves. I hadn't come this way in such a long time, I'd forgotten that.

  “Is it raining?” Iris asked and looked up.

  “Yes,” I said, still staring at the sky and debating whether to turn back. “Iris—”

  A terrified gasp interrupted me. In those brief moments, Iris had continued on, and we were now separated by a good ten feet of rock. And she was falling backward, her feet slipping and hands scrabbling at open air. I moved on instinct, leaping and landing, crashing my shoulder into the cliffside to brace myself as I caught Iris around the waist and yanked her against me.

  Air shook from her lungs, and she trembled, hands clutching my forearm. Then she twisted back to look at me. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you’d stopped.”

  “I should’ve said something.” My heart was pounding, and fuzzy shock filled the edges of my brain. “Are you—you're not hurt?" Voice low and harsh, I tried to get a grip as Iris shook her head, and her gaze went to my shoulder. "Don't worry about me."

  “You hit your shoulder pretty hard,” Iris said.

  I moved, pulling away from the rocks. Eyeing it, I realized I’d left an imprint of my side, I’d slammed into it so hard. A crack was spreading from it, and pieces of shale fell down.

  “It’s not strong rock,” I said, not sure if that was true or not. All I could feel was the pulse of blood going around and around my head and heart. Stepping back, but keeping my hands on her shoulders, I looked her over. “You’re okay.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t mean to test my theory on your jumping into action,” Iris said.

  Relief slowly crept over me, so immense it couldn’t move any faster than at a glacier’s speed. She was okay. “Last time I ever take this stupid trail,” I muttered and went to pull her against me.

  At that moment, the skies opened up and snapped me awake.

  What am I doing? I yelled at myself.

  I instead held onto her and began to climb towards the shelf of rock that led to a nice, flat trail. A nice, flat trail we got to in the nick of time as the wind began to howl, and the path behind us became a slushy avalanche.

  While we’d escaped the avalanche, we still had the storm to deal with. Iris staggered into me, and I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, peering through the inked-over twilight. There was a good-sized if ramshackle old logging factory somewhere around here. Not a Northbane base, but it would have to do.

  Rain slashed down, and lightning flashed. I sensed Iris stiffening at my side, and her fingers gripped my shirt. Without thinking, I swung her up and into my arms. She let out a startled noise, half surprise, half protest, but I kept churning forward.

  Stupid, I raged at myself. I’d been so intent on pretending Iris wasn't here that I hadn't considered how dangerous this trail was for a non-shifter. What if we'd been climbing up that crack in the cliff when the rain had started? She could have gotten hurt.

  Clouds whipped by so fast that shafts of sunlight snuck between them. One illuminated the building in the gully up ahead, the river beyond it snarling and raging, tumbling over itself as it coursed through the mountains. Racing down the hill, the wind screaming now, I stumbled a little, and Iris’s arms went around my neck.

  “Are you okay?” she shouted.

  I nodded, fighting down a burst of amusement and annoyance. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Someone has to.”

  The words seemed to pop from her mouth, and I cast a look downward, an eyebrow rising. Her eyes were huge as though she couldn't believe she'd said that.

  Before I could respond, the sunlight was gone, swallowed by a wall of black clouds, and I shouldered open the factory door. Squinting, my night vision taking a moment to kick in, I saw the place was even more dilapidated than I recalled.

  “Damn,” I said and kicked the door shut. “At least the roof looks intact.”

  Moving through the big, empty room, I debated going down into the basement, but this room was secure enough. There were only a few windows, and the walls were made of a thick, sturdy material that looked like it could withstand the test of time. However, there were plants creeping in the corners and the unmistakable rustle of mice.

  “At least we’ll be dry,” I muttered and heaved a giant sigh. “My pack brothers are always on me to take a different and longer way into Winfyre. All my fault, Iris. I’m sorry.”

  “You control the weather?” Iris asked, and her voice bubbled oddly in her throat as I walked farther in, searching for a clean corner. “What can’t you do?”

  “We should’ve taken a safer route home,” I said shortly, trying not be pleased with her tone.

  “Oh, Kal,” Iris said, and I glanced down. “It’s all right. I, um, I appreciate everything. I didn’t mean for—thunderstorms make me nervous. I don’t like high winds like that, but I’m probably pretty heavy, and you have that gear, you know…”

  She was babbling, and a grin curved into my mouth as she trailed off.

  “You’re not heavy,” I said. “I could carry five of you and not break a sweat.”

  Iris let out a soft laugh. "I mean, I figured that. You're huge, ripped, so strong and—"

  “And?” I asked, my voice a little strange to my ears.

  “Oh, you—you know you can put me down,” Iris said hastily.

  I don’t know what came over me as I heard myself say, “I know.”

  Chapter Seven

  Iris

  I know.

  Those two words, deliberate and deep, curving up my spine and vibrating from the hard chest I was pressed against. My eyes lifted to Kal’s hard jaw, then to his lips. A small smirk flitted over his face, and our gazes briefly met, shaking loose a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

  Why had I been holding my breath? And, more importantly, was this really happening?

  The last few days, Kal had been so remote and impassive, I'd been sure he was annoyed that I had to tag along on his way home. While there'd been a knot of apprehension and disappointment growing in my chest, I’d focused on making the best of it. I had a capable shifter bringing me to Winfyre and a task ahead that would help the territories. I’d be able to help people in a significant way. What did it matter if Kal wanted to be my friend or not?

  But right now,
I knew it did matter.

  It mattered so much that there was an ache in my neck from holding up my head so I wouldn’t nestle against him. I had to resist. If I gave in, if I let myself fall against a strong, hard man, especially one who blew as icy-cold and red-hot as Kal Deacon…

  No, I couldn’t. That was madness. That was a recipe for heartbreak.

  That wasn’t me. Underneath my smile was steel honed for over a decade. Since I was fifteen, I’d been more or less on my own. I knew how to survive.

  Abutting that—that sharp contrast in my personality that drove me insane, never mind everyone else, I’m sure—was the soft-hearted, whimsical wish to please everyone. Including Kal.

  Maybe especially Kal. It was why I hadn’t complained about the quiet of the trail, feeling it unfair. And why, as improbable and insane as it sounded, I didn’t want to risk hurting Kal’s feelings by insisting he put me down.

  Helps that you don’t want him to put you down, either.

  Thunder shook the sky around us, and I tensed up, sucking in a hard breath. Kal’s grip became more secure. So much for secretly thinking he was a callous, self-absorbed guy.

  I’d underestimated how sharp he was. The moment he’d sensed me tensing up, I’d been in his arms. Now I was berating myself for feeling ignored when he was trying to get me and some dangerous Excris contraband safely into Winfyre.

  Storms like this always resurrected the ghosts of my mother and brother. The hole in my heart and the steel walls I’d erected around it. Usually, during bad storms like this, I hunkered down alone and let myself sob, releasing the tension from the wound that would never let me go.

  I’d never been with anyone, or at least not anyone like Kal, not a protector holding me like this. Suddenly, I didn’t care if Kal liked me or not. He was a grown man, and he’d made the choice to carry me in here. I could indulge in his strong, steady comfort for a moment. Tightness clawed at my throat, and I closed my eyes, finally letting my head fall against Kal’s chest.