by Celia Kyle
She heaved again, stomach emptying, and she finally noticed a large hand holding her hair back. Its warmth seeped into her, forcing her to take note of the frozen shivers that traveled through her body.
“Shh… It’s okay.” The deep timbre of Harding’s voice was unmistakable.
Tess fought to open her eyes, ignoring the crust that clung to her lashes. Her first glimpse of the living world was of the basin beneath her along with the black remnants of Ben’s rage. At the sight, she closed her eyes once again, unwilling to see what had come from the fight.
“T-Take it away,” she rasped.
Harding’s touch disappeared for barely a moment and then he was back, his gentle hands urging her to lie back down. He stroked her as if she were as delicate as glass. And right then, she probably was.
Eyes still closed, she sank into the comfortable mattress, thankful for the cushioned surface at her back. Softness meant she was in the real world. Back where things made sense and her friend wasn’t a walking oil slick.
“Better?” Harding twined his fingers with hers.
She nodded. “Yeah.” She cleared her throat, swallowing whatever hints of bile that remained. “Yeah, much.”
“Good.” He squeezed her hands gently. “How long, Tess?”
She knew the question was coming, the one she didn’t want to answer, but had to nonetheless. “I didn’t truly know until this last time.”
“And your suspicions?” She was sure he tried to mask his anger, but he forgot whom he was talking to. There was no hiding things from her. Not truly.
“Ben wanted to come along.” She turned away. “He has his own family. His Herd is in the mid-west. Why would he want to come to North Carolina?”
“And you didn’t think it’d be prudent to share with the class?” His sarcasm was not lost on her.
“He’s a male. They can’t do that, they don’t have those abilities.” At least, that’s what she told herself over and over again. Male shifters couldn’t be Sensitives, they didn’t have those powers. Obviously she’d been wrong. Nearly dead wrong. “And he was my friend. I’d never sensed…”
“You could have warned us, Tess.” He gripped her chin and forced her to turn her gaze back to him. “You could have—should have—trusted me enough to tell me. I’m your mate for fuck’s sake. Fool that I am, I thought it meant something.” He released her and rose. “But obviously, it doesn’t.”
Harding padded toward the door, intent on leaving her behind.
Tess ached to reach out to him, let her mind brush his and allow him to peer inside her, but she didn’t have the strength. He could see the depth of her feelings. He’d be able to see how she was paralyzed by fear and uncertainty. He could explore her emotions and dig through her every memory. He could—
Before he left, he paused and looked back at her. The pain and anger were clearly written on his face. “Ben is in the living room and wants to talk to you before the Council takes him away. He’s drugged enough that he won’t be a threat to you or anyone else for a little while. He’ll be due for another shot in fifteen minutes. I’ll send someone in to help you.”
So, she’d smashed that to pieces. Whatever they’d been building had been pulverized by her unwillingness to accept the truth about Ben and her inability to embrace what Harding offered. She hadn’t been able to believe him, had she? Nor had she even tried to work past her fears. At least, not until the other night with Maya and Carly. And then it’d been too late. The lies of omission had started.
Alex appeared in the doorway with Maya hovering behind the massive shifter. His features were set in an emotionless, chiseled mask. “They’re waiting.”
Maya pushed past her mate, a worried expression on her face. She rushed forward, arms outstretched. “Are you okay?”
Maya grasped Tess’s hands and fought to hide her wince. Fighting Ben had really done a number on her. “I’m fine.” She pushed the words past her gritted teeth and used Maya’s hold to pull herself to her feet. “I’m good. Let’s go.”
Alex spun on his heel, leaving the two of them alone, and the Prima gave her a look of pity. “He worries about Harding. They’re men, they don’t talk about things, but Alex almost looks at Harding as a brother. They’re the same age, and when he came to the pride…”
When Harding had come to the pride, he’d been a battered, wounded, and scarred lion. Kind of like now, only Tess had caused the damage, and it was all hidden beneath his skin.
Yes, she deserved their scorn. “It’s fine. Let’s get this over with. The quicker it’s done, the quicker I can leave.”
Maya’s eyes widened. Disbelief, frustration and sadness flowed from the woman, but Tess was too tired to pull them all apart to find the reasons behind each emotion. With agonizing, shuffling steps she hobbled to the bedroom door and braced herself against the jamb. Air heaved in and out of her lungs, burning with each inhale and exhale. Fatigue pulled at her, but she had to see this done.
Tess leaned on the Prima, bracing her body against the powerful woman, and the two of them slowly made their way down the hall. Inch by inch, they padded over the soft carpet, until they finally stumbled into the living area.
And there was Ben, bleary-eyed and slumped in one of Harding’s kitchen chairs. The man’s wrists were cuffed, arms stretched behind the chair, while his ankles were secured to the seat’s legs. Council guards stood on either side of their prisoner, guns unholstered and pointed directly at the elephant’s head as it lolled against his shoulder.
Ben’s slightly crazed eyes were intent on her. “Tess,” he slurred her name. “You came.”
With Maya’s help, she crossed the room, pointedly ignoring Harding’s presence where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. She’d be leaving him soon. Torturing herself by staring at him wasn’t the best idea.
Carly stood nearby and quickly placed a chair in front of the prisoner. “Here, hon.”
She spoke as if Tess would shatter at any moment.
Maybe she would.
Between the two women, she managed to settle onto the seat and nearly groaned in relief.
Ben’s glassy eyes focused on her, but she took a moment to look around the room. And regretted the decision. Women from the pride gave her looks ranging from pity to worry, while the men were merely furious. At her.
She returned her attention to the man of the hour. “I did come.”
That earned her a winsome smile. “I knew you would. You were always so good. Always so nice to Amelia.” His eyes cleared for the briefest of moments. “Did you know elephants really don’t forget? It’s a curse. Can’t ever, ever forget.”
The wistful tone shot through her, his words in such contrast to the gruff male she was familiar with. “What can’t you forget, Ben?”
“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “I know you are.”
“He wanted you and he wasn’t going to stop until he got you. I remembered…”
Tess leaned forward and braced her hands on her knees. Her arms shook, fatigue tugging at her. “What did you remember?”
The wall of fuzziness returned to his gaze. “Them taking Millie. She screamed over and over again. No-no-no-no… They hurt her, didn’t they, Tess? I was gonna watch over her until she was strong enough to live on her own, and I met you, and he wanted you, and I couldn’t let that happen, Tess.” A tear trailed down Ben’s cheek. “But I didn’t know. I thought he was forcing you and I didn’t know.”
She sorted through his words, snared bits and pieces and pushed them all together. She cursed the fact that she was too week to venture into Ben’s mind. Then again, there was no telling what she’d find there.
So, she took a flying leap and guessed. “Millie isn’t an orphan, is she?” She replayed the memories of the attacks on Harding, the taste and flavors that lingered. “She’s your sister?”
Ben paled, eyes going wide. “You can’t tell her. Not after what I did.”
�
�Shh…” She reached out to pat his knee, reassure the man who’d been her friend for months, only to find a massive hand wrapped around her wrist.
She followed the arm, gaze rising higher until she met Harding’s stare. “You don’t need to touch him.”
Tess yanked free of her maybe-ex-mate’s grasp and leaned back. “I won’t tell her. I promise.”
“I’m sorry, Tess. Did I say that? I didn’t know you didn’t want him to stop.”
“It’s okay.” She nodded. His eyes were drooping lower, his head rolling back and forth as he fought the drugs.
“I wouldn’t have done it if I knew you loved him. I swear.” His gaze floated to hers once again, but she didn’t see what she’d come to expect. She didn’t see the haze of the drugs blurring his vision or the dilated pupils signifying their hold. No, they were clear as day. Or rather, night. Because the black hue of Ben’s animal peeked out from behind his eyes, the beast making itself known for the barest of moments. “I’m sorry, Tess. Will you watch out for her? Watch out for my Millie? She’s my sister, my twin, only one I got. Don’t want her to be alone. I looked for her for a long time.”
“I will.”
Tension built in the elephant’s body, muscles flexing and bulging beneath his skin. “I’m sorry.”
Those were his last words.
The kitchen exploded in a shower of wood and cloth, Ben’s change rolling over him in a grey-tinged, undulating wave. Arms and legs lengthened and thickened between one heartbeat and the next. The rapid pop of the Council guard’s guns collided with the screams from the women and roars of rage from the men. Arms wrapped around her waist and yanked her from her seat moments before it was shattered beneath a tangle of limbs, both human and animal. She wasn’t sure who held her, but then again she wasn’t sure she cared, either.
A trumpeting scream tore from Ben. Tess flinched, knowing that it was one of pain rather than fury. Wetness coated her cheeks, trailing over her flesh, and she wiped the moisture away. Tears. Yes, tears.
Tears for her friend. For his past. For Millie’s future. For everything his confused hatred and anger had caused.
But she’d made her own choices, hadn’t she?
One last roar and tremble of the mound of men, and then the mass stilled. Fur-covered males slid away, the lions easing back along with a tiger-striped shifter and the two guards who’d been sent by the Council. And then she saw him.
Ben.
Battered.
Bloodied.
Broken.
Dead.
The arms around her waist loosened, releasing her, and she stumbled. Catching herself on the nearby couch, she turned to look at her savior. Of course it was Harding. Who else would it be?
The man’s skin was coated in white fur, mouth now that of his beast, but beneath it all he was still Harding.
Her mate.
Wait, she’d fucked that up beyond all belief.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered the words and he clenched his jaw, confirming that he’d heard her.
“A lot of that’s going around lately.” He took a step toward the kitchen, but then turned back to her. “I need to go help clean up your mess.”
Her mess. Well, it wasn’t a lie. “Okay.”
Maya picked her way through the scattered furniture and carefully came to her side. “Are you okay?”
“No.” Tears burned her eyes, scorching her with their salty-heat. “I’m very not okay.”
Delicate arms enveloped her. Soft hands stroked her head, and suddenly she found her face pressed against the Prima’s neck. “Then we’ll take you somewhere else. Somewhere where okay isn’t too far off.”
Chapter Nine
“Sometimes, when I’m depressed, I just want someone to hug me and tell me they have ice cream. You thought I was gonna say I wanted to hear ‘I love you’, right? Screw that. Everyone loves me, but not everyone has ice cream.” — Maya O’Connell, Prima of the Ridgeville Pride and woman who believes ice cream fixes everything.
It’d taken five days and four dozen calls along with quite a bit of bribery, but Harding had finally found her.
Now he needed to figure out what to do with her.
Love her or spank her. Or both.
First he had to talk to her.
Steeling himself for the coming confrontation, Harding climbed from his rented SUV and approached the farmhouse. From the outside, it looked like any other home in the back woods of West Virginia. The porch was a little crooked, a railing or two looked like it was falling off, and he didn’t trust the shutters bracketing the front window.
But it wasn’t the outside that concerned him. It was what lurked within, and the past that surrounded the place.
Fuck. Colwich, West Virginia. He thought he’d seen the last of this town.
Apparently not.
Harding climbed the steps, conscious of the fact that they could crumble at any moment, and approached the front door. A twist of the knob had it coming off in his hand, and he growled. His mate had been staying in a place like this.
Alone.
Unprotected.
Vulnerable.
All because he was an ass who couldn’t see past his own wounded pride.
A jiggle of the door opened it, and he gingerly stepped into the home. A glance around revealed that it was coated with dust, small footprints on the carpet the only indication that someone lurked. But did she still?
Harding breathed deep and sorted through the scents, his beast lending a hand. The cat was as anxious to find Tess as the human half of himself. It’d been pushing and prodding him to hunt down his mate the moment she’d left his home, but he’d been too wrapped up in himself to listen. So he didn’t. And that’d gotten him five days of hunting. It probably would have been less if he’d been allowed to roar at the Prima, but Alex had flatly told him that wasn’t happening.
Damn it.
Harding’s lion growled and snapped at him, reminding him to focus on the task at hand. He closed his eyes and drew in another lungful of air. One by one, he sorted through the scents, identifying and discarding those that were stale yet still lingered. He didn’t care about the other shifters that’d come before. He wanted one person and one alone: Tess.
Rage. Fear. Blood. Tears. They seemed to permeate every surface, and he wasn’t surprised to find them in the farmhouse. It had, after all, been home to Alistair McCain once upon a time.
And Tess, as well.
Then it hit him like a brick to the face. The sweet, luxurious scent of honey reached for him. Its claws sank into his skin and tugged on his flesh, yanking him forward. She’d come here. True, he’d been told she’d sought solace in this run down place, but he hadn’t quite believed the reports.
But he should have.
Cautiously, he followed where the flavors led, matching the footsteps that littered the carpet. He twisted and turned down the hallways, the maze drawing him this way and that, deeper into the home. He’d forgotten that this wasn’t simply a farmhouse, but one of Freedom’s compounds. Innocuous on the outside, twisted on the inside.
The carpet eventually ended. His steps echoed off the wooden floors and rough-hewn walls. The creaking and groaning of the house was the only other intrusion on his travels, the home otherwise silent as if he were alone.
But the scent told him different. It lured him deeper into the farmhouse. It called to him and drove him onward when he would have given up and sought Tess elsewhere.
Before long he was moving down a straight, long hallway, various doors leading off to other rooms, but still the flavors beckoned him. So, he kept going. And going. And… He stopped in the doorway to the last room, the space barren for all but one lonely figure: Tess.
He knew she was aware of his presence—he hadn’t kept his approach quiet—but she didn’t look at him. So he took a moment to look at her.
And she was so damned beaten. Her hair was limp and dull, her shoulders slumped and her legs drawn up until her knees pressed a
gainst her chest. She was a small ball of woman, as if fighting to become as little as possible. A veritable “nothing to see here.”
One hand rested on her shin while the other traced circles over a dark, near black stain on the wood.
Now he took a second look at the space, noting the aged wallpaper, the small darkened spots along one wall and the few holes in another. He glanced at a nearby window and could immediately replay what had happened in this room. The reports that circulated through the shifter community had revealed nearly every detail.
Alistair had kidnapped one of the Ridgeville guards, tied him up and left him in the room until he was ready to torture him. Except the Freedom leader hadn’t counted on the guard’s mate, hadn’t believed that a small squirrel shifter could crawl through a window and free her man. Even more, he hadn’t even imagined that the small woman wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet through his head before escaping.
Tess was tracing circles on the last physical representation of her father: the place where he’d died.
She still hadn’t acknowledged Harding, but she hadn’t raged at him either.
Moving slowly, he closed the distance between them and crouched before her. “Tess?”
She didn’t look to him, her finger still gliding over the wood, but she did finally speak. “Do you know how many lives he destroyed? I mean, not just those he hurt.” She shuddered.
Harding reached for her, intent on offering comfort. Only, at the last second, he pulled back. He doubted she’d want to be touched by someone who could turn on her at the drop of a dime.
“I’m talking about the ones left behind.” She sniffled, and a sob tore from her throat. “And he passed it on to me, didn’t he? He passed on that ability to hurt everyone without a thought.”
God, he didn’t think there was any scent worse than that of his mate’s pain. It clawed at his skin, the heavy smell easily banishing the sweetness of honey. His lion roared and raged in disapproval, fighting with him, demanding that he comfort their mate.