Raising Kane
Heather Long
Contents
Raising Kane
Series So Far
A Note from Heather
The Fever
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
ACT II
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
ACT III
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Wanted: Fevered or Alive Sneak Peek
About the Author
Also by Heather Long
Raising Kane
Meet Kid Kane. The youngest brother, the passionate one, the one who lives with his soul exposed—he’s never met a woman he can’t seduce.
When the spirit fever struck a town, a village or an outpost, it left few if any survivors. The white man blamed the Indian saying they used their mojo on them. The Indians blamed the white man for angering the spirits. The survivors knew it didn’t matter. The Fevered were forever changed.
A gift he needs to tame…
Kid feels what the world around him feels, he is a raw, bleeding nerve, and he can’t control the pain anymore. After lashing out at everyone he loves, he agrees to an exile atop Quanto’s mountain to learn to control the power he wields. Desperate to end it, Kid battles with Wyatt the eldest Morning Star—hoping against hope that the man will kill him. He longs only for peace…
A gift she wants to harness…
Evelyn Lang grew up with a territorial judge for a father, and a secret—her father’s Fevered ability passed to her. When he’s killed in broad daylight in a little town in Kansas after freeing a slave, Lang is no longer bound by her father’s oath to never use her ability—now she must train it. She travels across hostile territory in search of the man who trained her father. She longs only for vengeance…
Tempestuous passions, opposing needs, and impulsive decisions divide them…
Conflicting goals put Kid and Evelyn in direct opposition. Her hunger for justice cuts him, but Quanto refuses his requests to train alone. Forced to train together, they must confront their deepest fears if they are ever to achieve their greatest desire….
His pain. Her obsession. Their battle.
Copyright © 2014 by Heather Long
Cover by Brandy Walker
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-1-301-95335-6
Series So Far
Marshal of Hel Dorado
Brave are the Lonely
Micah & Mrs. Miller
A Fistful of Dreams
Raising Kane
Wanted: Fevered or Alive
Wild and Fevered
The Quick and the Fevered
A Man Called Wyatt
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A Note from Heather
In the early part of 2011, I stood outside a bookstore chatting with some friends from my book club about an idea I had for a paranormal with no technology, no cars, no GPS, no cell phones—no “easy” way out of the problems the characters faced. I said, at the time, I wanted to make their powers something that truly set these people apart in a world where everything else was tough—it was the moment Fevered Hearts was born. Thanks to the wonderful encouragement of people like Patti, Ruthie, Jaime, Jeanie, Kim and Rebecca—I decided to write my ‘novella’ and share this world with everyone.
* * *
For those of you who have been on the journey with me, you might remember that this little novella turned out to be the 82,000-word Marshal of Hel Dorado. I never, in a million years suspected when I sat down to write those first scenes with Sam, Scarlett, and their respective brothers that I would be sitting here two and a half years later, preparing Raising Kane—book five in the series for release. It has been the most tremendous of trail rides for me; one that began as just “something I want to do” and it has become “something I can’t wait to do.”
* * *
Every time I sit down to write the next book, I get a thrill—because I’m going home. Very few books can I say take me on such a wild, and satisfying ride and I wanted to say thank you to my girls who encouraged me, cheered me on and especially to Ruthie who said, every single time she spoke to me that summer—“I want to read Sam.” Thank you for being on this ride with me, I have had so much fun and thank you to all of you who pick up these books and read them. The book you hold in your hands is Raising Kane, the highly-anticipated novel featuring Kid Kane, the youngest Kane brother who stole my heart when I wrote Marshal of Hel Dorado and I am so delighted to be able to invite you along on his journey as we travel from the Flying K to the Mountain, hang on—it’s a wild ride.
* * *
Heather
For every single person who has ever struggled to find his or her place in the world—you are not alone.
The Fever
When the spirit fever struck a town, a village or an outpost, it left few if any survivors. The white man blamed the Indian saying they used their mojo on them. The Indians blamed the white man for angering the spirits. The survivors knew it didn’t matter. The Fevered were forever changed.
Chapter 1
Kid, The Trail
Kid rolled over, the hard ground punishing his back and side. The fire crackled and the lean-to they constructed against the rocks provided little protection from the biting wind. Winter hadn’t loosened its grip yet and it didn’t seem to matter that their trail took them south and west or that the sun’s heat on the cracked sandstone rose in shimmering waves. The nights were brutal.
Huddling into his jacket, Kid shifted again. Wyatt sat silently staring at the fire. It blazed higher than when the younger man first lay down to sleep. Shadows flickered over Wyatt’s face, half-hidden beneath his black hat. The Morning Star’s eldest brother said little on the journey; he was even less given to chatting than Cody.
“Don’t you sleep?” Maybe he should have kept the question to himself. The cold void wrapped around the man kept Kid tucking his own emotions closer. If he could just close himself off and erect a wall away from that icy vortex of death, he would. Engaging him brought the man’s attention—and his gaze was even more unsettling than his presence.
“The sun will be up in an hour. Sleep while you can. We’ll ride at first light.” Short and to the point. How did he get along with his family? Scarlett bubbled over with warmth. Cody, Jimmy, Buck and Noah acted like brothers—they gave each other a hard time, fought, and even yelled. Wyatt just was…something else.
The animals shifted, their hooves shuffling on the hard packed dirt. Wyatt’s giant of a stallion snorted once, and then settled again. The crackling of the flames licking at the wood punctuated the quiet of the night. Not that it was all that silent. Night predators stirred in the desert—hunting or scrabbling for food. Smaller creatures fussed about, no doubt looking for their own sustenance and avoiding becoming the meal.
The horses shuffled. They snorted occasionally. The fire burned. Wyatt—he was silent. Kid slanted a look at the man. He sat unmoving, a sentinel agains
t the night.
“Don’t.”
The single word crackled with command and he jumped. His heart slammed against his ribs and he sucked in a breath of air. “I wasn’t planning to.”
“Liar.” Was that a curl of amusement?
“No, not this time.” He’d lied plenty, but he had no intentions of trying to touch Wyatt’s emotions. The man was cold, clammy blackness—it sucked at Kid threateningly.
“You didn’t ask about your brother.” Wyatt poked a stick at the fire and the flames jumped higher.
“No.” Kid agreed, closing his eyes. “I didn’t.” And had no plans to. He didn’t have to guess which brother he meant. Wyatt had issued the same warning to Jason and the idiot didn’t listen. The last time Kid saw him, he had collapsed in a heap. Maybe he should feel something other than nothing for him, but anger and resentment for Jason seemed to blacken and diminish any fraternal affection.
“Do you really want to die?”
Kid opened his eyes and sat up.
“You asked me if I would.” The man stared at him from beneath the brim of his hat. Despite the shadow, Kid could almost feel it roving over him—waiting.
“I know what I asked.” Irritation scraped through him, like sand in an open cut.
“We’re alone. No one will know. Accidents happen all the time.” He toyed with a knife, and the firelight flickered off it.
Was he offering to kill Kid and just get it over with? Had that been his intention all along? His siblings referred to Wyatt with fear and awe. They said he didn’t ride unless someone was going to die. He came to the Flying K to kill Delilah. The girl had done nothing to anyone, but the eldest Morning Star came to kill her nonetheless. She survived—whether because of Buck’s intervention or her refusal to use her Fevered ability to attack Wyatt, Kid had no idea.
No one on the ranch had been able to stop him. All those awesome abilities—Scarlett’s firestarting, Cody’s wolf strength, Jimmy’s aim, even Jason and his vaunted mental acuity and skill—Wyatt deflected all of them without seemingly trying. He put them all down. Kid didn’t quite understand what Buck did, but somehow he tackled Wyatt and the two vanished into thin air.
One moment there, and gone the next.
And not just a little gone, they were completely gone—Buck’s emotional imprint vanished as if it hadn’t been. They returned a few minutes later as though nothing had happened. Eerie and unsettling as Wyatt was—the event wouldn’t be erased from Kid’s mind anytime soon.
“So, your bravado is gone. Good.” The knife vanished from the older man’s hands and he rose. “And since you’re awake, eat. We ride at sunrise.”
He stalked away from the fire and left Kid to stare after him. The Morning Star siblings loved their brother, but they also feared him. Kid didn’t have to question why.
The man terrified Kid and that alone brought him comfort.
Wyatt would kill him if he couldn’t get his curse under control. For the first time in years, the knot of tension in his gut loosened. Rising from his bedroll, he packed his things together and settled on hard tack and cold water for his breakfast next to the fire.
To the east, the sun’s light trailed a ribbon of orange across the horizon. His gaze lingered, an inexorable pull demanding he return. He turned his back on it. The Flying K lay to the east and he rode away from it.
Away from his home.
Away from his family.
Away.
* * *
Three days of relentlessly riding west and Kid’s head ached. He’d seen two towns in the distance…but always the distance. Wyatt never let their path bring them in range. Kid’s skin itched, as though it were too tightly attached to his body. Even his neck and shoulders hurt, along with his backside. He didn’t remember the ride being this long when he, Sam, and Micah came in search of Scarlett nearly two years before. Had it really been that long?
He fought the urge to complain, but when he saw a third set of adobe shimmering in the distance, he angled his horse away from Wyatt’s and squared his shoulders. Every town had some woman or women that could be had for the right price. He wasn’t proud of the need burning through him, but if he didn’t do something soon, he would snap.
Wyatt cut him off, his implacable expression set as he blocked the path. “We’re not going to town.”
“You don’t have to. I just need a few hours and—”
“No. West.” He pointed. “That’s the way we travel. No towns. No other people. No hiding.”
Frustration screamed through Kid and he gripped the reins so tightly, the leather cut into his palms through the gloves. “I’m going to Quanto’s. I haven’t changed my mind, but I’m not a prisoner and I need a break.”
“I said no.” Wyatt lifted his chin and the sunlight slanted across his hard face and cold eyes—one blue and the other green. They reflected the sunlight, appearing almost unearthly. “Ride on and let it go.”
“I. Can’t.” The urge to lash out swarmed through him, a rattled beehive of emotions stinging his temper. “Get out of my way before I do something we both regret.”
A slow smile curved Wyatt’s mouth. “Go ahead.”
Was the man serious? Maybe he didn’t understand the severity of it. Maybe he lived away from people so long he didn’t comprehend the raw, visceral need for companionship? What woman would have the strength to bed him? Much less the desire?
Shaking his head, Kid fought the anger and the hurt balling together like heat lightning and sparking through his system. Tapping his ankles to the horse’s sides, he turned the mare to the left and surged around Wyatt. He made three strides before the reins wrenched from his hands, he flew backwards out of the saddle and slammed into the hard, cracked earth.
All the air whooshed out of him and Kid groaned. Physical pain thrummed past the buzzing in his body. He heard the sound of Wyatt’s boots hitting the ground and couldn’t dredge up the energy to care. The steady thump of his approach should have filled him with dread, but even the man’s shadow draping him had little effect. Rough demand raked his insides, a taut string pulled too tight and threatening to snap. He needed to get to a town.
When Wyatt stared down at him, Kid lashed out with his leg. For a few, short seconds—surprise flickered across Wyatt’s face. But his knee gave to the force of Kid’s blow and he hit the ground. Years of wrestling with his own brothers honed Kid’s ability in close quarters fighting, so he didn’t even wait for Wyatt to finish falling before he threw a punch. His knuckles slammed into Wyatt’s jaw and the world crackled and turned black.
Kid froze.
A thousand emotions churned through him riding shocks of lightning, twisting and forking, sizzling through his nerves and shattering him. Pain—the easiest to discern, fury, the strongest, and an inescapable loneliness underscoring the rest. Kid writhed, and hot scalding tears poured down his cheeks. Shaking, he crawled away and threw up until he had nothing left in his stomach.
Sickness rode through him in waves, every time he thought he had it under control, it took him again. When he thought he might collapse, a hand seized the back of his coat and hauled him to his feet. Pressure thudded behind his skull, a bruise that seemed to beat with the same force as his heart. He met Wyatt’s eyes, hardly prepared for a fresh shock.
Pity softened the hard edge of the man’s expression. “You’re stronger than your brother. That will help you. But no man survives stupidity, Kid.”
“What are you?” Because whatever he was, Wyatt was like no other Kid ever encountered. Harrison’s darkness was corruption twisted with malice, but Wyatt—he wasn’t evil. It wasn’t hate that fueled him, or passion. It was—gorge threatened him again and only the water splashed in his face stopped him from trying to dry heave up what his stomach no longer had.
Sitting abruptly, his legs too shaken to hold him, Kid struggled with the tight bands wrapping around his chest. “What are you?” He repeated the question.
“It doesn’t matter.” Wyatt squatte
d in front of him. “But you’re done now, right? No more trying to run off?”
“I wasn’t trying to run away,” and he hadn’t been. He just needed to bury himself in a woman for a while, feed her ecstasy, and take the edge off. “I know I need to get to the mountain. I need something to make this all stop. I’m not going to make it if I don’t do something about this.” Ichor crawled through him—like a dozen sticky spiders draping his soul in their webbing. His chest squeezed tighter and tighter. He couldn’t breathe.
“You were running. Burying yourself in other people is not healing or useful. It’s running.”
“You’re not in my head. You have no idea how I feel or what’s going on with me.” Why the hell wouldn’t his hands stop shaking?
“You’re going to Quanto. We’re not stopping anywhere. You have no control. You feed off everything around you. If you need to blunt out the emotional noise you can take my hand, but somehow I think you won’t.” Wyatt stripped off his gloves and held out a large calloused hand in his direction.
Kid’s stomach bottomed out. No. He didn’t want to feel what was in the man. Not again.
“Now get on your horse and let’s ride.” He didn’t add or I will make you, but it was definitely implied.
Clenching fists, Kid rose and staggered toward his horse. He stared at the adobe roofs reflecting in the distance. He wouldn’t buy into the delusion that he could make it. Wyatt hadn’t been anywhere near him when Kid was dragged from his horse—he didn’t need to be. He could control him from a distance. If he lashed out again, he would bear the brunt of whatever it was that lived inside of the man.
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