Steel Heart

by R. J. Blain

  I could see the idiot controlling his pack through revoking access to the basics. As I hadn’t been told I could speak up, and I needed to maintain my strength if I wanted to do my job well, I sat, investigated the offerings on the trays, and selected a plate of chicken and steak for myself, baring my teeth in challenge if they didn’t like my choice.

  “Tigers have quite the appetite,” Ferdinand explained. “And bites are tiring for the recipient. Feed her, and she won’t bother you.”

  Oh, I would bother them. I would just take my time about it. But when I was finished, one thing was certain: their deaths would be so brutal people would grimace at the mere mention of their demise.

  Ferdinand took me to wolf country, and when we drew close to the station deep in the heart of Tennessee, he dressed me up in jeans, a button-up denim shirt, and a cowboy hat to help cover my more distinctive appearance. Instead of asking me to take out the beads and feathers from my hair, he pretended they didn’t exist.

  I wondered at that. The feathers and beads gave me a unique look, marking me as someone affiliated with a tribe, something that could identify me and send word back to Charlotte.

  The feathers would draw attention, which was a double-edged sword. Until I finished my job, I didn’t want word reaching Charlotte of my whereabouts.

  I couldn’t afford to hope that the feathers and beads were somehow encouraging people to forget about their presence. I wished they could help me forget the feel of Ferdinand’s bite. My skin skill crawled.

  I wanted my tiger, but I couldn’t afford to have him show up, not until I finished my mission. When he did arrive, I had plans. It would take a lot of his bites to remove the slimy memory of Ferdinand’s teeth breaking through my skin. A persistent ache lingered everywhere my tiger had touched me with his mouth, but I welcomed the discomfort.

  It helped me ignore Ferdinand’s bite and reminded me why I needed to play along with the wolf’s plans.

  Much like in Charlotte, the streets of Knoxville were clogged with horses, wagons, carriages, and people, making it easy to disappear into the crowd. Nobody paid Ferdinand any mind, which led me to believe that, unlike in Charlotte, the wolf had gone out of his way to just be another face among many.

  Wise traitors did that.

  After over two hours of walking, Ferdinand gestured to a two-story home. “This is the pack house, where you will stay when you are not with me. You will not leave it without permission or if one of the pack bitches orders you to. If you behave, you’ll earn a bedroom, but for now, figure something out. I’m sure they’ll have extra bedding you can use in the meantime.”

  I fought my desire to get on with the assassination portion of my job, grateful he’d told me to be seen rather than heard. Given leave to speak, I’d regret my words within moments of speaking them.

  I would have a few words for my uncle about bad choices regarding his former second-in-command.

  Ferdinand guided me to a town house in a rattier part of town, although the building seemed in better shape than its neighbors. Making the assumption he skimped on the property to give him more funding for his traitorous plans, I heeled as I’d been told and struggled to keep from snarling at the bastard wolf. He climbed the short flight of steps to the front door, unlocked it, and headed inside, waving for me to follow him inside. “Rachelle!”

  A heavily pregnant woman with limp brown hair and a gaunt build waddled into the home’s entry, which consisted of a bench, a shoe rack, and a side table stacked with opened letters. To my amusement, there was a dish filled with letter openers, something I could weaponize in a jam.

  I flexed my hands so I wouldn’t grab one and end Ferdinand’s pathetic life right then and there.

  “Ferdinand?” the woman asked, and she averted her eyes. Her posture screamed prey. Her scent claimed she was a wolf shifter. She sniffed the air, and she tensed.

  I couldn’t imagine a wolf woman appreciating a larger predator coming into her turf, not when she had an unborn puppy to protect.

  “This is Jesse. She is now part of the pack. She will do whatever you need her to do. Send her on errands, do whatever you want with her. She isn’t to leave the house without me or at your order. She isn’t to have a bedroom until she’s proven herself, so put her anywhere else you see fit. If you’re not sure where to put her, have her pick a spot. I would tolerate the attic, if necessary.”

  According to Rachelle’s expression, she couldn’t believe what she heard, but she bobbed her head in acquiescence.

  What choice did she have? None. I abhorred wolf magic, but I couldn’t even growl over it, or Ferdinand wouldn’t believe his bite had worked. I expected he’d tear my throat too often for my liking. His bite—and all of Anatoly’s marks—still ached. My shoulder injury and recovery gave me an edge; I’d adapted to far worse pain sustained for longer than I hoped I’d be stuck with the wolf and his pack.

  “Good. I’ll bring the monthly food budget in tomorrow, adjusted for the extra mouth. She’s at the bottom of the pole, and you won’t have to worry about any children with her. While I’ve staked my claim, there won’t be any hybrids.” The way Ferdinand spat the world implied he’d rather drown any offspring with mixed heritage. “You’ll find her competent and useful, and I bit her to protect the pack. For all she’s unsuitable for mating, she’s the best out there for being the pack’s guardian. She’s an experienced mercenary with a specialization in touchy guard jobs. Despite her unfortunate species, she will do her job well. I will be back daily to secure my hold on her, so do let the other ladies know.”

  Rachelle bobbed her head again, and I got the feeling she fought the urge to dip into a curtsy. “Of course. What time can we expect you tomorrow?”

  “Around noon. I expect her to require a few days to settle, as she is unused to the restraints of pack life. She is a more solitary creature.”

  “Creature?”

  “Tiger,” Ferdinand snarled.

  I clasped my hands together so I wouldn’t go for the bastard’s throat then and there.

  One day, he would learn—very briefly—that there would be nothing more terrifying and lethal than a scorned tigress. I would make his death so quick, yet so brutal people would whisper of his fate for years. Fantasizing about his demise helped maintain control over my flaring temper.

  There would be no roaring, not until I’d finished my work and could roar out my frustrations for my mate to hear.

  Once I worked out the worst of my irritation, he would soothe me. He always did, no matter how annoyed he made me with his egotistical posturing. He might soothe me by instigating more roaring and a spat, but I would emerge better for it.

  When I finished roaring, I expected the first quiet minutes alone would lead to doing what I couldn’t yet bear: mourning my lost agent.

  I missed Simmons, and the awareness he wouldn’t be clawing his way up the walls to find me stabbed deeper than any blade could. I clung to my rage. I would need it to get through the next few weeks—or however long it took me to crush Ferdinand.

  “A tiger?” Rachelle asked.

  “A tiger,” Ferdinand confirmed. “Do with her as you wish. Consider her your servant. I have work to do.”

  Without another word, the wolf spun on a heel and left, and I glared at his departing back. I waited until he closed the door to bare my teeth in a silent snarl. Controlling my expression, I turned to the pregnant woman but didn’t speak.

  “Well, come on then. He does this to anyone who is new, even the wolves. He leaves his new mates waiting a few months to make them desperate before changing his mind. He enjoys his dominance, but he’ll be kind enough as long as you do as told.”

  He’d be long dead before he even thought about doing such a thing with me. Rather than correct her, I mimicked the way she’d nodded.

  “I wonder what we did to deserve him guarding us,” the woman muttered, and she shook her head.

  I read between the lines: he didn’t care for any of them, which matc
hed how he tended to use people. He’d used people even in Dawnfire, something I’d remind my uncle about when I found my way back to Charlotte. Then again, he might get off without a peep from me.

  By the time I made it home, I’d need time with my tiger, and yelling at my uncle would take away from my time with my tiger.

  I focused my attention on the wolf, taking note of her paler complexion and slender, gaunt build. While Ferdinand claimed he’d account for my presence, I’d take the bare minimum to make sure any pregnant women could benefit. She needed more than she was getting, but with my current orders and my need to play dumb, I had no idea how to help her.

  Worse, I worried she was only the start of my domestic woes.

  While I had lived on the streets and struggled to get by, I had always been accepted with Todd and his guild, flitting in and out of their lives with an expectation of being welcomed.

  She had a home, but my nose told me living in it scared her—and that my presence changed things. For her, I expected change terrified rather than comforted. Change added uncertainty. Change created problems.

  Change likely hadn’t opened any doors for her.

  Ferdinand would have changed everything with his first bite, leaving her an unwilling prisoner forced to do his bidding.

  Fucking wolf. Fucking wolf magic.

  I should have said the same about Anatoly’s tiger magic, but I’d never felt a need to obey him. He treasured my defiance. He enjoyed when I tried to best him. He loved when I bested him, and he encouraged my triumphs the same way he coaxed me into craving physical touch and affection.

  Being bound to him wasn’t a prison. Binding him to me also wasn’t a prison.

  I’d stepped into a cage, but my resolve strengthened.

  When I left the cage, I would emerge with a pack of freed wolves, and I didn’t care for their names or reasons for being part of Ferdinand’s pack. I wouldn’t take note of them beyond the bare minimums to get by. I would pay close attention to Rachelle.

  The others would be caged birds to me, ones I meant to set free.

  Simmons would have approved, however much he would find my quest for vengeance unsettling.

  He hated when I killed, but not because he believed murder and assassination to be a man’s work. No, I’d seen through my agent, too late to do me any good.

  He’d just wanted me to be happy, something I struggled with on a good day.

  Killing everyone who had taken my agent from me would make me very happy—until the grief settled in again and threatened to choke me.

  Rachelle regarded me with a frown. “You’re pretty calm about this. The new ones usually aren’t.”

  I forced a smile. “He will regret his bite.”

  He wouldn’t live to regret it, but he would regret it all the same, as would any allied with him.

  “That’s a toast I would raise my glass for. Since he directly ordered, I can’t give you a bedroom, but you’re welcome to take whatever space you otherwise see fit. I’ll leave it up to you if you want to meet the others. We try to keep to ourselves unless we know Ferdinand won’t be around. He doesn’t like when he thinks we’re banding together.” Rachelle sighed. “No surprise there. You’ll get used to it. You’ll find overt defiance is impossible, but we have our moments. Once.”

  I understood; they defied him as they could, exactly once before he ordered them to never do such a thing again, and the wolf magic would enforce it. Like me, her throat bore a fresher bite, likely a few days old but healing well enough.

  Slower than my tiger’s bite on me had healed.

  “One day, once will be enough,” I promised.

  “Or so we pray,” she replied, gesturing deeper into the sparsely furnished house. “Come with me. It’s not much, but the pack’s house is our home, and it’s safe enough.”

  From her tone, I gathered it was only safe for as long as Ferdinand wasn’t around, and I wondered if there was anything I could do to change that for her—for them.

  One way or another, I’d find out.

  Chapter Nine

  A waif of a woman with pale hair stalked after me, and I debated if I wanted to ignore her, growl a warning, or go for her throat and establish I wasn’t prey for her or anyone else. Rachelle halted, raised a brow, and engaged the woman in a staring contest, which she won after a few tense minutes.

  “Ferdinand bit her,” Rachelle whispered.

  “I guessed as much from the rage in her eyes. She looks ready to burn the house down if you gave her the right Starfall stone and a few minutes alone. I like it. He finally brought someone who might be able to do something about this. Fucking fool.”

  Well, that simplified things. I reevaluated my initial impression of her. I couldn’t reveal I might be able to light the house down given a few minutes alone without the help of the Hope Diamond, although I’d be tempted, given a week of the incessant ache from my tiger’s bites. “I’m Jesse.”

  “Lauren. I’m five or so months along, I’d like to kick that wolf in the nuts, and any time you want to play cards and discuss the best way to cut his dick off, let me know.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “What’s her orders?” Lauren asked, planting her hands on her hips and again meeting Rachelle glare for glare.

  “Apparently, she is a tiger, and she is to protect the pack.”

  “A cat with a bunch of dogs? Is he trying to start a fight? He’s not going to be able to handle a cat, and I don’t care how good he thinks he is with wolf magic. He’s going to find out what happens when he bites off more than he can chew, and she don’t smell like he’s been taming her in other ways.”

  I’d do more than kick him in the nuts or cut his dick off if Ferdinand tried, but I kept my mouth shut. While Lauren seemed like a potential ally, I wouldn’t know for certain until I had a chance to watch the pack of women.

  “I’ve been told I’m to manage her.”

  “That’ll be interesting. How does someone manage a cat? Cats live to be trouble.”

  Rachelle shrugged. “Well, he did bite her. That will ensure her general behavior.”

  “He’s going to get kicked in the nuts and have his dick cut off by the time that cat is done with him. I just want to see it when she breaks free, snaps, and kills the bastard.”

  “She’s been bitten, Lauren.”

  “Don’t matter. He can barely hold onto the pack he has, and adding a cat to the mix isn’t going to make things easier. He’s going to have to bite her every day if he wants half a prayer of making her do what he wants—and it’ll make it easier for us, too.” Lauren circled me in the confines of the hallway, and she touched one of the eagle feathers dangling from my hair. “You’re native?”

  “Not quite, but I was gifted with these from a tribe.” It would take longer than any of us had to explain the odd relationship I had with the North Cheyenne tribe. When I headed out west again, I’d have to ask the elders if they’d lost their minds when they’d sent me more beads and another feather. If their base criteria involved me living up to the name they’d gifted me, I supposed I had earned every feather and bead I wore.

  Heading west with my tiger would go a long way to restoring me to the person I wanted to be, although I expected the trip would be long and difficult on a good day.

  “Huh. And you’re supposed to guard us? Why would he care about having us guarded? We’re trophies. It helps set his rank here having an extra mate, but beyond that, we’re evening entertainment and extra mouths to feed.”

  For that alone, I’d enjoy killing Ferdinand.

  “Don’t let anyone else hear that, Lauren,” Rachelle warned in a hushed tone. “No matter how true it might be. You know some of them are ordered to snitch, and that’s no fault of theirs. Don’t set Jesse up for a fall, not when she doesn’t know the ropes yet.”

  “Fine. Where is he having her stay?”

  “Not in a bedroom,” Lauren replied, her tone bitter.

  “The upstairs linen
closet is large enough for a body, and we can move the towels out, so she can use the shelves for whatever she needs. Can’t do much about the lack of light in there, but at least she’d have a space, and it’s not a bedroom. If you tell her to pick a spot, she could wander up and take it, and we’d be all right, it’s not like we have all that much extra to store in the other rooms.”

  “Jesse?”

  A closet would offer me a little privacy, and I’d stayed in worse places while working a job or traveling the United States. “I suppose I will go wander up and pick a spot that seems like a closet.” The expected answer left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I would convert the space to my haven, make it mine, and use it to continue my plans to crush Ferdinand and his willing accomplices.

  “Then it’s settled. Can you deal with everyone else, Lauren? Perhaps they should give Jesse space for a month or two, as she’s not just a cat, but she’s a rather large cat—and Ferdinand would not be pleased if we fought each other.”

  According to Rachelle’s tone, a mix of wary and disgusted, in-fighting had plagued the pack before.

  “We ain’t fought nobody in months. Why? We’re all stuck up the same shit creek without a paddle or a boat. Maybe she’ll shift for us and give us something new to look at.”

  I needed to practice shifting, especially partial-body shifts. I’d need my sharp claws to properly tear out Ferdinand’s throat, and my efforts needed to be masked through other activities—like entertaining a bunch of captive pack women.

  “He told her she couldn’t shift as far as I know,” Rachel murmured, looking me over. “We’re only allowed to shift for official pack gatherings. He doesn’t want to lose his hold on us, and it’s harder to maintain his bite when our wolves are out.”

  “What do you mean it’s harder to maintain his bite? I thought wolf bites were permanent.”

  The two women exchanged looks and shook their heads. “Not precisely,” Lauren replied. While we have to obey his direct orders, his hold on us has been getting a lot weaker. We’re at the point we can think for ourselves again.”