by Woods, Erica
There was something wrong with him.
The wide chest I’d crashed into expanded with a deep inhale. A muscle in his jaw jumped. He closed his eyes and drew another deep breath. Then another. And one more. And then his eyes snapped open, glittering with ice so cold it burned as it swept over me, leaving every inch of exposed skin with frostbite.
Dread crawled up my spine.
Lucien opened his mouth, snapped it back shut. His throat worked, and judging by his grimace, whatever he’d swallowed had burned going down. Several emotions blazed across his face, but I only caught one.
Rage. Red hot, glowing, fiery, all-encompassing rage.
It burned so bright I was tempted to avert my eyes. But before I could, ice descended and the fire that should have been extinguished hissed like glowing embers warding off a torrent of sleet—still there, still very much alive, but temporarily smothered.
“Female,” he said, and the way he tilted his head while he stared down at me made me think he could see something that I couldn’t. Something dirty. Ugly. A stain on my soul. “You’ve been busy.”
Wary, I drew back. “W-what do you mean?”
Lucien arched a brow as his eyes slid down my body in a way that left me shivering. “Sex.” The way he said it, a seductive purr wrapped around a callous sort of cruelty, stole my breath. “Do not tell me you cannot hear the word without blushing. Not after last night’s . . . activities.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Had Ruarc or Jason told him about last night? A stab of betrayal pierced my heart as I struggled to come to terms with this new reality. “I . . . You don’t . . .”
“Tell me . . .” He stepped closer and cupped my cheek, thumb stroking the line of my cheekbone with aching tenderness. “What did you barter in return for spreading your legs?”
I jerked back, out of touching range, and Lucien’s arm dropped to his side, hand clenching once before relaxing.
What did I barter?
His words were arrows to my chest, each one fiercely aching and burrowing closer to their target. “W-why are you b-being like t-this?” Why now? Why was the muscle along his jaw jumping, like he was clenching his teeth, while the rest of him looked cold and unaffected? Why had he begun treating me as a person, acting as though things had changed if they hadn’t? And why had that fact made stupid hope spring in my breast?
The arrows pierced my first rib.
In the last few days—more times than were healthy—I’d thought about chipping away at the layers of ice surrounding him, almost frantic in my eagerness to get to his core.
This . . . this couldn’t be it.
“Being like what? Truthful?” Lucien’s smile contained no trace of warmth. “I find it . . . curious that you waited until last night, the day before the Assembly, to strengthen your ties. I wonder if perhaps it was not so much desire that drove you but a need for security.”
The arrows splintered my ribs, shot through my heart, and I flinched, my mouth filling with the dirty taste of metal.
It . . . it wasn’t true. I’d wanted Jason and Ruarc. I’d wanted to show them that I trusted them, to give back the pleasure they’d given me, to be close.
But after we’d finished . . .
Hadn’t I marveled at the feeling of security? Hadn’t I felt safer than I’d ever had before?
That doesn’t mean you used them, a small voice in the back of my head whispered. I couldn’t afford to second guess myself, to pick apart the one good thing I had in my life.
“No.” I shook my head, frustrated and so very tired. How dare he make the beautiful moment I’d shared with my guys into something ugly? “No.”
Something flared in his eyes, but when he spoke, it was in a mocking tone. “No? You maintain your innocence, then?”
“I mean no. No to being your punching bag. No to talking to someone who only wants to hurt me and make me feel bad.” It felt good to say those words. To mean them and realize that I didn’t deserve this. Not from Lucien. Maybe not from anyone.
The man in question went still. His gaze raked across my face, and when I saw the disdain forming in the curl of his lip and the rising of a perfect brow, the last fragment of compassion I’d clung to, the last bit of curiosity and warmth residing in the small piece of my heart that had belonged to Lucien crumbled into dust.
It was more than an emotion. More than a disentanglement of thoughts and wants. Something inside me severed. Like a physical manifestation that was as painful as this encounter.
I choked on a gasp. Tears stung my eyes. My chest ached and ached and ached, and as the last thread of this thing inside me disintegrated, I mourned its loss.
I blinked through a sheen of moisture, watched Lucien stagger back, his hand flying to his chest.
“What . . .” He closed his eyes, furrows appearing between his brows. He looked as pale as I felt.
A part of me wanted to go to him, comfort him, cup the bloodless cheeks between my hands and assure him whatever he was feeling, he was going to be okay. But self-preservation had kicked in, and I knew I had to put myself first.
Before he destroyed what little self-worth I had left.
I turned to leave, and Lucien’s eyes flew open, pinning me in place. We stared at each other for what felt like hours. Me, cut open and bleeding through invisible wounds. Him, unmovable, unreadable, untouchable; safe within his armor made of ice and marble and jagged edges that cut every time I got too close.
I made a sound, driven by the tightness in my chest, the lump in my throat, and Lucien snapped out of whatever in-between place he’d occupied. The mocking smile he’d worn earlier had long since died, but now it grew back, as sharp and as cold as ever.
But this time . . . This time, I couldn’t find it in myself to care.
“Punching bag? That is quite dramatic, is it not?” he said at long last, looking at me in a way that was almost . . . expectant?
Did he think I’d argue? That I’d try to make him see me differently?
Pointless.
I was tired—exhausted down to my bones—and this hollow, gnawing feeling that had started in my chest had spread until all my limbs felt heavy with fatigue.
Numb. Everything in me had gone numb.
I returned his look, all emptiness, and Lucien . . . he hesitated. His hand jerked up, stopped halfway between us, then lowered. When he opened his mouth, no doubt to spew more hateful words at me, I turned and walked away.
I needed to talk to Ruarc and Jason. I needed to know if they’d told the others about last night, if I’d read it all wrong and it hadn’t meant as much to them as it did to me.
But most of all . . . I just needed their arms around me.
I found Ruarc in the kitchen. Seeing him had my lips move into a smile no part of me felt. The big mammoth of a man stood at the stove, flipping pancakes like he’d been born to the task. It never ceased to amaze me that this huge warrior, this possessive feral creature, enjoyed cooking for his family.
My empty smile fell.
I could never be a part of that family. No matter how close I got to Ruarc and Jason it wouldn’t work. Not with Lucien unable to accept me, hating me even—it would pull their family apart.
And what about the terrible creature living inside me just waiting for the chance to break free? What if it happened again? What if I lost control and killed one—or all—of the only people I’d cared about since my brother?
Ruarc flipped the last pancake before facing me with his teeth bared in what I knew he meant to be a smile. A little scary, it still made my heart clench, especially when it was accompanied by the warmth in his beautiful eyes.
He did a double take, gaze sweeping from my fidgeting feet to my slumped shoulders, and the baring of teeth became a threat rather than a welcome. Spying something over my shoulder, his eyes darkened and he tried to rush past me. Before he could, I put a hand on his arm and peered up at him. “Can we talk?”
16
Lucien
She ma
kes me weak.
It was true. How else would I explain the godforsaken ache that had pierced me when she’d turned and walked away? The urge to run after her, to yank her stubborn feet to a halt and curse her for doing this to me, to drag her upstairs and replace their scent with mine, acting exactly like—
Bile gathered in my throat and I pushed the disgusting comparison away.
She’s made me weak.
The way she’d looked . . . I couldn’t think about it without disturbing the wall of ice I was trying to rebuild. But the cold fortress I’d spent the majority of my long life constructing—one block of impenetrable ice at a time—couldn’t soothe the infested wound ravaging my peace of mind.
I felt.
And it was . . . disturbing. Agonizing. Terrible.
Everything I remembered it being.
And it was all her fault.
I yanked a hand through my hair, cursing under my breath. The blasted female was a burr under my skin, an itch I could never scratch, an ache that had come out of nowhere. Tempting. Beguiling.
Dangerous.
When I’d scented my brothers on her, I’d wanted to kill. A dark, slithering, burning emotion had roped around my neck and cut off my air.
She’s making me dangerous.
I had always known it was in me. The taint. The proclivity for violence and destruction. All the emotions that burned hot, that were uncontrollable, obliterating, damning.
They’d made my life a living hell once, and I’d be damned if I allowed them to do so again. And certainly not with me as their host.
I glared at the broken furniture littering the floor, a reminder of how close we’d been to losing the vexing human. What would we have done to get her back? What would we have sacrificed had this enemy succeeded in using her against us? The girl was a weakness. A liability. The reason I was slowly losing my mind.
Devil take her!
I absentmindedly rubbed the spot above my heart and strode after the female set on my ruin.
When had the dastardly female’s pain begun feeling like my own? When had her happiness begun to matter?
The fiery sting engulfing my chest and ravaging my lungs was worse than the most severe silver burn. The bullet that had grazed my shoulder—the slight injury near healed now—would have hurt less piercing tendons and muscle than this . . . this horror.
I stopped outside the kitchen. The female was in there with Ruarc. Her scent trailed behind her and my hands curled at my sides.
Why had I followed her?
Instead of leaving, I moved so I could see her. She stood with her head bowed and her shoulders slumped, waiting for Ruarc to notice her.
This was the girl that terrified me? This fragile, pale creature that looked as though she carried the weight of the world on her trembling shoulders?
Self-loathing rose as bile in my throat. How had I failed so utterly in protecting myself and my brothers? How could I have let this frail creature worm her way behind our defenses and insert herself into our lives?
You should have chased her away the moment she crossed your path.
Rage exploded in my belly and I nearly voiced my displeasure in a loud, angry snarl.
What is happening to me?
“Can we talk?”
The sound of the female’s ragged voice tore through me.
Not since I was a foolish boy had I struggled this hard at controlling my emotions. Not since the day my sire had beaten me half to death for stepping between him and a mother who hated me had my defenses so wholly failed me.
What had the human done to me?
She’s turning you into your sire.
A hissed breath escaped between my clenched teeth.
It was imperative that I kept her out. From this day forth, I would keep my distance and squash any connection we might be forming.
Unless she does so first.
The pleasure at obtaining exactly what I wished for—at pushing her away—remained absent. In its place, a vitriolic flavor invaded my mouth and coated my tongue while a shadowed hand gripped my heart and squeezed.
“What’d he do?” Ruarc snarled. There was no doubt in my mind he was referring to me. He’d seen me lurking in the doorway and correctly guessed the source of Hope’s pain.
Shame burned hot before I carefully dismantled the uncomfortable sensation and threw it out of my arctic fortress. Treating her so cruelly had been necessary. These feelings . . . this regret and worry were further proof I was correct in my actions. If this crippling guilt was any indication, prolonging my connection with the human would have ended in utter disaster.
She would have left me in ruin, and I would have left her in pieces.
I would not be responsible for extinguishing her light.
The sound of shuffling feet reached my sensitive ears. “Nothing,” Hope mumbled, and my heart briefly stopped beating.
She was trying to protect me. After I’d crushed her under my heel like a bug, she was trying to protect me from my brother’s fury?
Another emotion dug its claws under my ribs, attempting to cleave me in two.
“Bullshit!” The taut scent of aggression surged through the kitchen and into the hallway I had yet to vacate. “You’re shaking!”
“Did you . . . did you tell them we . . . that we . . .” A short break and a puff of air. “You know.”
“That we mated?”
“Y-yes.”
Ruarc was quiet. Too quiet. “No,” he growled, and the roughness of his voice told me his teeth were no longer flat and dull, but the sharp weapons of his wolf. “He say something?”
Hope ignored his question. “Then how did he know?”
“Could smell it.”
A soft gasp. “H-how? I . . . I showered.”
“Doesn’t matter. You carry our scent. But until we are properly mated, it will fade given enough time.” A sharp snarl ripped from his throat. “Which won’t happen. You hear me?” The sound of rustling clothes followed, then the scrape of a chair. Knowing the overprotective lout, he’d put her on his lap and was holding her tight.
Embers of something sharp and bitter burned through my chest.
Dangerous. So very dangerous.
“You’re mine. Ours,” he amended, most likely a result of a pointed look from the female. “You’ll sleep with me every night so I can coat you in my scent. With us. Our scent.”
“Ruarc!”
Voice lighter, Ruarc said, “Only sleep, a chuisle. We won’t mate again unless you want to.”
“I . . . I do . . .”
From the sound of it, I imagined her cheeks stained with a becoming, pink blush. Ruarc made a low noise in his throat and murmured something I couldn’t hear.
I’d had enough. With my jaw clenched and my breathing coming in resentful bursts of hot air, I walked out.
Time to put her out of my mind once and for all. Before she destroyed me, and I, in turn, destroyed her.
17
Hope
Leaving my temporary home proved as painful as I’d expected.
While the guys loaded the car with the stuff they’d packed, I stood motionless in the driveway, staring up at the house with all the longing, fear, and dread I hadn’t wanted to feel.
Longing, because I never wanted to leave. Because it was the only place I’d felt safe in over eighteen years. Because a part of me was sure that once we left, my fate would be sealed; I wouldn’t make it back.
I clutched at my rolling stomach, the sour taste of fear prickling on my tongue.
The Hunters wouldn’t be able to get to me at the Assembly, but it would be packed with human hating lycans who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me if they got the chance. Not to mention I’d have to survive the Council; both defending the fact that I knew things I shouldn’t, and later convincing them to help me end the Hunters. And if they refused . . .
I’d have to find a way to do it alone.
And that possibility triggered a dark, devastating dread. Dread fo
r the choice I’d have to make. For the tasks that lay ahead. And for the fact that I had only three days before I told the guys the truth and my world came crashing down.
They will never forgive you.
That last thought . . . That was the one winding treacherous paths through my brain, scraping away the few pieces of joy Lucien hadn’t managed to crush that morning and devouring all hope.
“Time to go, love,” Jason called, closing the boot with one hand while the other shielded his eyes against the sun. With parts of his face shrouded in shadows, his grin looked more like a grimace, and his eyes glowed with bleak desolation.
I got in the backseat, carefully avoiding Lucien’s bristling presence, and let Ruarc envelope me in his big, strong arms. “Rest, mo chridhe,” he whispered against my ear, grunting when I closed my eyes and pretended I didn’t notice the tension stretching taut and tremulous in the silent car, the foreboding raising all the hairs along my nape, the taste of masculine fury lingering in the air . . .
And the fear that hid beneath it.
* * *
“We’re here.” Ruarc’s gruff voice pulled me out of a light snooze. Judging by the stiffness in my neck, at least a couple of hours had passed.
Stifling a yawn, I glanced around. The guys looked strained. On edge. Except Lucien, who stared out the window with a shuttered gaze and a hard jaw. I quickly looked away, determined to keep my distance. No point inviting hurt feelings where plenty already existed.
While the others got out of the car, Ruarc leaned over, unbuckling my seat belt and brushing his lips over my temple. “You ready, mo chridhe?”
“I think so.”
The corners of his eyes tightened, but he helped me out, not saying a word while he pulled me to his front, his arms over my chest so I was surrounded by his protection.
Good thing too, because my knees almost buckled from the view.
We stood at the top of a mild incline, looking out at rolling hills as far as the eye could see, dipping and rising in gentle swells of green sprinkled with the occasional burst of color. Cabins, both small and big, dotted the grassy landscape. They were close enough that guests could visit each other without too much effort, but remained far enough apart to not seem crowded.