by R. J. Blain
“You can think for yourselves?” I’d heard enough about wolf bites to realize obedience was required of the bitten victim—and a woman could bite a man, but men typically did the biting. I hadn’t thought the wolf’s magic could be so strong it could circumvent the ability to remain an individual.
“It’s like being wrapped in a towel and drowned,” Rachelle replied, and deep lines cut across her brow. “All that mattered was making certain he was content. There was no room for anything else. Every woman he bit has made it easier. I don’t drown anymore. The compulsion is still there, and I have to obey, but I can see the world around me again.”
Holy shit. No wonder everyone had believed there’d be no rescuing myself from Ferdinand when I’d been at high risk of being bitten. “That’s terrible.”
“It is, but one day, we’ll be free. The day he bites one too many women, he’ll lose us all. We’ll be free,” Lauren whispered.
They’d be freed a lot sooner than they likely dreamed possible, but I still worried what would happen upon Ferdinand’s death. If they cared for Ferdinand, what would their grief do?
If they felt even a fraction of my rage over Simmons’s death, they would tear me apart.
Then Anatoly would tear them apart for their role in my death.
Things could get messy in a hurry.
“Well, until then, we’re stuck.”
Lauren checked over her shoulder. “Order her out of the house every day. She’s a cat. She’ll go crazy if she stays cramped in a closet surrounded by a bunch of hormone-crazed bitches.”
“Lauren,” Rachelle warned.
“What? It’s true. Is Ferdinand going to up the budget? He didn’t last time.”
No wonder the women seemed gaunt; if he hadn’t given them extra money to fill an extra stomach, they probably shared among themselves as much as they could.
“He said he’d bring extra tomorrow.”
“Really? Do you think he’s really going to do that? All he has to do is keep us alive. Nobody cares about us beyond that. They don’t care about our pups, either. They don’t even care we don’t want this. Nobody cares.”
“Lauren.”
The woman scowled, bowed her head, and huffed. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”
“Tell the others Jesse needs time to settle, and we’d be better off if we didn’t have an infuriated tiger in our midst.”
“Yeah, I guess a few hundred pounds of angry cat would make a mess of the place, and he’d make us fix it. I’ll let them know. We don’t have enough meat to keep a tiger fed, though.”
“I won’t eat much,” I promised. It wasn’t a lie. While I could eat the palace stocks barren, I’d take only enough to keep moving one foot in front of the other. Once I finished Ferdinand off, I’d gorge.
I’d gone hungry before. I could do it again. Life with my family and my tiger hadn’t made me go completely soft.
After a few weeks, I’d be courting trouble, but I’d do my best to make sure the women got the excess my share would include. With a little luck, Ferdinand would remember tigers could eat a lot and plan accordingly.
“I thought tigers ate a lot.”
We did. “I’ll be fine.”
A little hunger wouldn’t hurt me, and if I needed something, assuming I could get permission to leave the damned house, I could go out of the city and try to hunt something. I hadn’t learned the finer points of hunting as a tiger, but it beat starving to death without putting in some effort.
Maybe I could find a particularly slow and stupid deer to eat somewhere in the woods.
Both women eyed me like they weren’t quite willing to believe a tiger could live off a light diet without eating them.
“I’ll show her the upstairs,” Rachelle muttered. “Can you check what we have in the kitchen and how much of a budget we still have?”
“Will do.” Lauren left me with Rachelle, and the woman sighed.
“She seems rather rebellious,” I observed.
“She was taken second, and Ferdinand picked her because he likes snuffing out our fire. We were hoping the next one would free us all, but no such luck.”
As I couldn’t tell Rachelle his bite couldn’t stick on me, I feigned dismay. What else could I do? “I’m sorry.”
“It’s certainly not your fault. You don’t want to be here, either.”
While I didn’t want to be in Tennessee, far from my tiger, I needed to be there. I would bide my time, and when the time was right, I would act.
Somehow.
The closet would test my patience, but it was the best space that wasn’t a bedroom in the entire house, unless I wanted to share the attic with a bunch of bats and their guano. I questioned how the wolves tolerated the mess right over their heads.
Fire simply didn’t happen outside of a combustion zone without the help of magic, but I’d expose one of my darker secrets to torch the place and bask in the warmth while it burned. With the Hope Diamond, which remained locked around my throat, I could make it happen without anyone believing I was the responsible party. The Hope Diamond could do anything.
It could torch a house that Ferdinand used as a prison.
In good news, I could stretch out in the closet. In bad news, I ran a high risk of bashing my brains out on the shelf over my head, which was bolted into place. There was a sufficient gap between the door and the shelves I could, if needed, stand in the closet and access the shelving space. I doubted Ferdinand would bother with any of the basics, but Rachelle had refused to listen to my request to leave the towels alone, as I didn’t own anything.
She brought enough bedding to make a comfortable enough nest, and she left me to my own devices.
Staying distant would help my cause, assuming I could get close enough to Ferdinand to learn more about his plans. While I appreciated a good challenge, I worried I’d have to do my investigations following his death. Within a few weeks, I would have a good idea of life with the pack, the precautions the wolf inevitably took to hide his treason, and a better feel for the women under his heel.
To prove I had nothing to hide and benefit from the light in the hallway, I left the closet door cracked open, burrowed in the blankets, and settled in to wait. After battling cold after cold, with the added bonus of a busted shoulder, I’d gotten in a lot of practice at biding my time and behaving. Instead of consoling myself with the necessity of the murder I planned, I reminded myself of the bitter past and why I needed to choose mercy over satisfaction.
There’d be no proper tattoos; I lacked the needles and ink. Peaceful sleep wouldn’t overcome my victim before I finished him off, either. Them, if the suspicions about Marie proved to be the truth.
For Todd’s sake, I wanted her to be innocent, but everything pointed to the same place: she had played some part in my agent’s death. If my understanding of the situation was correct, Ferdinand had been marked as suspicious long enough he wouldn’t have been given any relevant information on the inner workings of the palace. Marie, through Todd, would have been able to access current intel to a certain degree.
Particularly, she would have known something of my activities, and would have been able to help them pick a good time for their move.
I would always wonder if luck alone had spared Randal from Simmons’s fate, as any other day in the palace, he would have been with me. Then, half of the arrows that had killed Simmons would have found their mark in Randal.
I would have carried the burden of both their deaths to Tennessee.
Had Randal survived? Had anyone gone after my aunt? My uncles? The pain of my tiger’s nips, nibbles, and bites offered the reassurance he’d survived whatever had happened at the palace. Not knowing bothered me more than the discomfort of Ferdinand’s bite, which hadn’t seemed to heal like I expected.
I would blame my tiger for that, and I’d enjoy sinking my teeth into him and dragging him off somewhere once I found my way back to Charlotte. Contemplating what I would do to and with my tiger would occu
py a lot of empty time, I expected. Creating elaborate plans to drag him off, evading everyone in the process, would need a lot of care to do right. I would need several hours of uninterrupted time, somewhere we wouldn’t be disturbed, and at least one of his ties, preferably the red one.
I bet I could do a lot with him and his red tie.
My thoughts of my tiger distracted me for all of five minutes before the reality of my situation crept in again.
I’d expected women. I hadn’t expected starving pregnant women. However difficult my job became, I refused to fail. I wanted to snap, head back to Charlotte, and find out if everyone was all right. Ferdinand and his accomplices had attacked my home. After so long adrift, the thought of them sullying what I finally had birthed a rage as strong as the one burning over Simmons’s loss.
I would torch everything Ferdinand held dear.
A thunk at the door jolted me from my thoughts, and I opened my mouth to ask who it was when sparks burst off a dark surface. The pitted, dark stone hit the door again and bounced into my nest.
My eyes widened, and before the Starfall stone could draw unwanted attention from one of the pack’s women, I snatched it up. Memories welled of the moment the stone had bounced across the bar in Miami, coming to a halt in front of me. Waiting. Casting flecks of light and flame off its surface.
Steel Heart.
It warmed my hand, although its light died away.
While faint, the memory of the stone inducing my first shift surfaced. It had warmed me then, too. Everything that had happened until I’d reached the forest remained lost, but I appreciated recapturing even a single moment of finding another facet of my true self.
While Ferdinand had taken everything from me except my beads and feathers, he’d given me a belt with a pouch on it, a common enough accessory to make my outfit seem authentic. It would make a good hiding place for Steel Heart and some other stones I picked up, which would give me an excuse to have it. Any rock I could fiddle with and rub would convince him of my innocence, or so I hoped. If he spotted Steel Heart, he would know its nature.
He’d been involved in the initial hunt for the stone.
I placed it in my pouch and tied the drawstrings to prevent it from wandering, although I had no doubts it would leave confinement if it wanted to. After all, it had found its way into the house, up the stairs, and to my closet.
If Ferdinand discovered the stone’s presence, the ruse would be up: I would have to eliminate him to protect my clan’s property—and to keep him from finding a way to weaponize it. Possessing the Hope Diamond was problematic enough, but it burst at its whim.
Steel Heart had a long history of bending to the will of men. I wondered if it would listen to a woman if circumstance demanded I find a way to put the Starfall stone to use. I couldn’t forge a sword, but I could do some serious damage with a butter knife. I bet the rock could turn a spoon into a dangerous weapon.
Scooping out Ferdinand’s eyeballs and feeding them to him might appease the beast within for a few moments. Then again, if I gouged out his eyeballs, I’d have to spend even more time with him. No, brutal and swift would be my best bet. Unless he died before he comprehended I’d turned on him, he might find some way to retaliate.
Simmons’s death reminded me of an unfortunate truth: a good assassination left no chance for the victim to do anything other than die. I’d built the entirety of my career on such deaths.
Unlike Ferdinand’s accomplices, I’d do my dirty work alone.
In time, when my agent’s death settled to a bone deep ache rather than a cutting edge, I might view his last moments with a twisted sense of pride.
He’d been so dangerous and skilled they’d needed so many to ensure he died.
Maybe Ferdinand needed an army to do his vile work, but I would become a one-woman army determined to erase everything he stood for. I would find some way to use the Hope Diamond to accomplish my goals.
And Steel Heart, too. That Starfall stone would create problems for me.
My clan would want it back, and they would eventually find me. Would hiding it in a pouch and holding it close work? It would be my first plan until I found something better—or the stone decided it no longer desired my company.
Without my tiger, my friends, or my family, I hoped the stone would stick around. I found some twisted comfort in the Hope Diamond’s presence locked around my throat. While it inconvenienced me more often than not, the necklace had transformed itself into something of a friend, too.
It refused to leave me, although I didn’t understand why.
I still struggled to understand why others hadn’t given up on me, especially among my family, who had searched for me on nothing more substantial than the knowledge I existed. Gentry’s admission he’d hunted for me, his missing niece, continued to amaze me long after the fear of discovery had faded away.
My tiger’s dedication to an unknown entity still flummoxed me. He hadn’t even been the one to forge a commitment with the Blade Clan, but he’d taken up his sister’s responsibilities without question or complaint. No, he’d done everything with his typical ego and pride, turning what should have been a burden into a matter of honor.
That I had become the woman he’d promised himself to only made him prouder and even more egotistical.
To him, he wasn’t meeting some obligation forced upon him.
I was a prize worth winning.
In the dark quiet of the closet, I feared my thoughts would drive me insane long before the pain of the conflicting bites.
As always, I became my own worst enemy.
The idea of a fire capable of consuming entire buildings left me awed.
It also offered me additional insight.
Everyone believed the Hope Diamond could do anything. When it burst, cities fell—or came back to life after decades frozen in time. Time had caught up with Fort Lauderdale’s residents, bringing as much tragedy as it had joy.
I wondered if Ferdinand’s betrayal extended to even then, when I’d been taken for the Starfall stone before. If he had been involved with the stolen courier horses, it would mean something went on larger than a growing rebellion wishing to displace my aunt. The possibility of the connection bothered me.
Ferdinand would have had plenty of time and opportunity to work with my deceased uncles to secure the Hope Diamond from the National Archive. Had he not been sent to Knoxville, he would have been in the perfect position to disrupt any efforts to locate the stone.
While I hadn’t been asked to prove he’d been involved with my uncles, I’d do my best to discover the truth. Everything I’d witnessed thus far confirmed his guilt, but it would be better for everyone if I learned how extensive his betrayals were. I finished most of my food, leaving a few token scraps to help convince Rachelle I truly didn’t eat much, something I’d have to do every day to maintain the ruse. Water would keep my stomach from gurgling much.
It would be a long time until I got to indulge in another beer, and I might go for a full keg after dealing with Knoxville and a damned wolf I couldn’t kill quite yet.
To prevent any of the wolf women from having even more reason to dislike me, I went to the kitchen, cleaned up after myself, and listened at the doorway leading to the dining room. They talked about me, and their pity annoyed me enough I returned to the library to keep from growling. As soon as Ferdinand’s body hit the ground, I’d make it clear they had no reason to pity me.
I’d teach them they had no reason to pity themselves, but I couldn’t reveal that truth to them. Not yet.
Soon, but not yet.
I picked a comfortable chair, picked up the book about cars, and read about engines, the laws of the road, and the practices of a safe driver. Little of the old ways remained, with asphalt and concrete being maintained on the main thoroughfares and leaving the rest of the country to fend with dirt and stone.
Would I like a world without horses, swords, and the grit and grime of the road? Trains and their set sched
ules offered convenience, but I found true freedom in the saddle, riding where few others dared. I’d survived through winters making rides between towns, aware a single accident could result in my death. My horses would likely die, too, although they stood a better chance of survival in the wilds than I did.
I’d never tested my ability to light fires beyond what was necessary to live in Wyoming on my own. Luck had contributed to my ability to survive at my home, which I missed, despite the harsh winters and hard work.
The memory was almost enough to make me smile. Not long after I’d moved into the area determined to settle down with my two black demons, I’d gotten lucky; a patch of mud in the land I’d staked as mine had become more than just a wet spot in the ground. In the month after, it had turned into a proper spring. With some shovels and help from the locals, who would invite me to their tribe in the following year, I’d built a home around the spring.
The horses loved the water, as did I. It had an odd taste, but it warmed, and none of us had ever gotten sick from drinking it. When drought hit, which happened often enough it was a way of life among the tribe, I invited everyone and their animals to drink, as it never seemed to run out, although it took some time to quench everyone’s thirst.
I figured the spring, which welled up inside the cozy comfort of my cabin before draining out through a stone-carved channel to turn into a trickle of a creek, would be the first place I’d take my tiger when I dragged him west to meet the tribe.
I held onto the thought as another lifeline to get me through the following days.
I would need it.
Chapter Ten
Ferdinand brought extra money as promised, but the ten dollars wouldn’t go far, not for a month. To complicate my already complicated plans, his second bite hurt worse than the first. Not only did it throb in my throat, the heat of my tiger’s claims burned hotter, a reminder I’d already dedicated myself to someone else. After twenty minutes, it ebbed to a tolerable amount, but I shook in the aftermath.