Traitor (Shifters Unlimited: Clan Black Book 3)

by KH LeMoyne

  20

  Rayven’s eyes fluttered open. The fire was warm at her back, and a jacket cushioned her face from the hardwood floor. Prepared to stretch and roll up to sit, she startled as she realized the world looked…odd.

  Shades of gray without the usual spark of color surrounded her. She could make out the furniture clearly enough. She lifted her hand to rub her face and froze at the thick paw in front of her. A glance down confirmed white fur covered the length of her body. Electric prickles of shock danced over her skin, followed by a dizzying motion as if the earth had turned on its side and she was slowly falling off the planet.

  It couldn’t be. Then her memories flooded back to her confrontation with Alpha Black. As if done waiting for her to catch up, her bear gave a low grumble. The sound rippled up her throat and echoed in the room. A good sound. An incredible sound, and one she felt in her soul and understood.

  He’d done it.

  Deacon had forced her bear to the surface. The complete sense of being she felt surpassed a nagging concern about whether she’d be able to turn back into her human form. Her bear had been so long without the ability to scent, hunt, and experience the wonders of the world in the legacy of her kind, she’d given up on ever savoring life as her beast.

  However, worries could wait. For now, her strongest need was to pee. She rose unsteadily on her forelegs, reveling in the fact that her ribs no longer burned and her shoulder no longer ached. Her forearm supported her without even a twinge of pain, and the bullet wound—felt like it never happened. Shifting out of her wounded self was wonderful on so many levels. Wanting credit for her recovery, her beast chuffed.

  She lumbered toward the closest doorway, then an archway beyond with the stainless steel gleam of kitchen appliances. A large oak table with a dozen chairs to one side and long kitchen counters sat on her right, a square island on her left. Lovely, yet her focus was on the superwide back door. Excited at the prospect of experiencing the outside in beast form, she halted at the door. There was no way to open the doorknob with paws.

  “I’ll get it for you, Rayven. But we need to come to an agreement first,” Deacon said from behind her. She shot him a glance but pointed her nose at the doorknob with insistence. “Some of the other alphas have begun to arrive. It’s better they remain unaware you’ve assumed the alpha mantle. I don’t want them to catch sight of you in your animal form at all.”

  She lowered her hind end and waited for the rest of his lecture.

  “Once we’ve presented your case and the evidence has been offered by your accusers, there will be rules and a framework for the tribunal and safety. Until then, some will seek an altercation with you to take matters into their own hands. Not to avenge your father, but to claim your legacy.”

  Her bear grumbled, but Rayven understood. Whether she agreed completely with Deacon’s strategy or not, she owed him for helping her regain her beast. She stretched and clawed at the back door with one serving-platter-sized paw and huffed a sigh.

  “I’ll take that as consensus. Stay close and try not to take too long. I also advise you to keep your relationship with Breslin private—aside from the few people in my clan who will have access to you in this house.”

  The second the door opened, she ambled across the back porch and down the stairs. The grass was damp beneath her paws, yet every sound, movement, scent intensified in a way that made her muscles sing. She entered the woods and sniffed after some rabbit trails. But were there even rabbit shifters in Black Haven? She remembered the cupcake bakery with bunny images in the window. Right, don’t harm the bunnies.

  Hmm, but bunnies loved clover, and clover meant honey.

  Where are these thoughts coming from?

  She moved farther into the woods, did her business, and then rose on her hind legs beside a tall pine. Leaning back, she rubbed her back against the rough surface. Heaven. A twitch this way. Another that way. Yep, good.

  Giving the bark a quick slash with her claws, she moseyed on. So many trees, so little time.

  Tempted to follow the breeze and run toward the sun, she forced herself to turn around and go back. She’d made a promise, and her word had always stood for something. Even with the new pleasure of her beast in full form, she wouldn’t change that now. As she reached the ranch house, she saw Lena sitting on the top step with a blanket in her lap and a coffee cup in her hand.

  “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you kept going, but thank you for coming back. Deacon would’ve been grumpy for days. Can you shift back?”

  Rayven gave a slow shake, one that rippled her fur from her ears to her rump. She focused inward. She’d expected a battle. Certainly a beast who could handle alpha power wouldn’t want to give up after such a short time of freedom. However, she and her beast had always been of one mind. The clan came first. Decisions in her life revolved around productive actions, not personal whims.

  Power twisted and churned inside her, pain flashed for a long moment as her bones reshaped and her muscles altered position. Some might call the change excruciating, but having been so long without her bear, it felt more like a rite of passage—a birth and renewal, whose twinges and sharp spikes just confirmed she was alive and whole.

  Lena set aside her cup and stood, then draped the blanket around Rayven’s shoulders. “How do you feel?”

  Rayven pushed aside the blanket enough to check her bullet wound. A faint scar marred skin, but otherwise, there was no sign of her injury. “I’d call that one hundred percent better.”

  “We’ll see if we can enhance your control,” Deacon said from the doorway. He turned, and they followed him inside. Inhaling the aromas of fresh coffee, pancakes, bacon, and butter, Rayven halted, hungering for all that and more.

  He stopped beside the kitchen island and turned to lean against it as he watched her. “We’ll start with something simple. Clothing.”

  Simple for him, perhaps. If it were easy, more clans would intuitively know how to dress themselves after shifting. She’d seen one or two alphas visit her father’s territory. Knew that some alphas imbued the clan members who accompanied them with the ability and some didn’t. She’d always figured it was a matter of servitude versus an inalienable clan right, but since she’d never spoken with those guests, and they were few and infrequent, she’d never been able to confirm that.

  “Close your eyes,” Deacon commanded. “Remember the most comfortable piece of clothing you own. Think of the way it touches your skin, if it layers you in warmth, or has a texture. Does it tickle? Is it weightless?”

  “You can’t possibly go through this process with every shifter in your clan?” she asked, cracking one eye open at him. He looked amused but gestured for her to close her eyes again.

  “My clan pledges an oath to me, and through our exchange, I share abilities. However, as an alpha in your own right, you’ll need to learn both for yourself, and later, how to share. If you choose.”

  “I take it I’m not going to learn sharing today.”

  “Focus, Rayven.”

  Of course. Now that he insisted she do this, the last thing she could think of was any clothing she owned. But she remembered Breslin’s T-shirt and the comfort it gave her and her beast. It might have been ripped to shreds during her shift, but if Deacon was offering magic, then she wanted that T-shirt. How it clung softly to her curves, and covered over her hips. It would pair just fine with her old worn jeans. The buttery-soft pair with the tear in the right thigh where she’d caught it on a nail fleeing from the enforcers. A swirl of heat slithered around, raising the fine hairs on her arms, thighs, and belly.

  “You can let go of the blanket,” Lena said.

  Rayven snapped her eyes open and glanced down. Breslin’s shirt hung a little loose on her, but it did pair well with her jeans. She wiggled her toes, noticing she’d forgotten boots. She cocked her head at Deacon, then closed her eyes, focusing on her feet. After a little concentration, her wiggling toes no longer felt the cool tile of the floor. She opened he
r eyes again. Sure enough, fresh socks and boots sturdy enough to handle rough terrain covered her feet.

  Damn, that was fun.

  “When can I learn how to share this?”

  Deacon shook his head and waved her toward the table behind her. “You have enough items to practice without juggling the needs of others for the time being. Besides, if you’re too comfortable wielding your alpha powers, we risk others finding out about your change in status.”

  “Won’t they be able to tell anyway?”

  He considered for a minute, then walked around behind the island and started piling food on a plate. He handed it to her and gestured toward the table. “Initially, they will all suspect that was your reason for killing your father—to have power—and they’ll search for it in you. One of the reasons I don’t want to broadcast your change in status. I want your alpha ability camouflaged.” As if sensing her boredom, he added, “I’ll add in some work with your clan’s constellation.”

  A reward to tempt her to work hard? She didn’t have to mull that over. “I’m guessing you’re not talking about stars over Alberta or British Columbia.”

  Lena smiled at her mate as he placed two more plates on the table and sat beside her. “It actually is a great deal like looking into the night sky. But I no longer see stars. More like I can sense the individual members.”

  Rayven sipped at her coffee, watching Lena rub her hand over Deacon’s shoulder in a gesture both relaxed and affectionate. She couldn’t have imagined an alpha mated couple so happy, so normal. A part of her felt a twinge of jealousy. The rest of her wondered eagerly if this too was something each alpha could master. “Is it your role as Deacon’s mate that allows you to see them?”

  “Her role as the female alpha of the clan connects her to them,” Deacon clarified. “Mates for alphas differ from mates for other clan members. There are layers and intricacies to alpha power. They vary by species of beast, by the mating combination of humans and shifters, and by enough different factors that it is impossible to calculate them all. But each half of an alpha pair complements with their unique abilities—if they work in tandem.”

  Rayven paused with a piece of bacon lifted halfway to her mouth, surprised that he’d succinctly gauged the nagging question in her mind and answered it before she could ask. Her mother had never been allowed to flourish, much less share any alpha abilities. She’d owned magic, be it minimal, but Karndottir shared nothing. Not even with his own mate.

  Her mind spun, wondering what would manifest if she and Breslin ever mated.

  An impossibility. One she was silly to consider given he’d left her. Still, he was never far from her every thought, as if she carried a piece of him inside her.

  “The ability to detect clan members strikes me as intuitive, but this camouflaging sounds a bit complicated.” Rayven picked up the coffeepot and added some to Lena’s cup, then topped off Deacon’s.

  She bit her lip as she caught a brief glimpse of herself in the reflection of the window behind Deacon’s shoulder. Look at her, all civilized and everything. Just sitting here in another alpha’s kitchen, eating his breakfast. Part of her wanted to chuckle. The other half of her braced for the next major disaster. After all, her life consisted of one disaster after another. The release of her dormant beast didn’t mean that had changed.

  “Hiding your alpha powers from other alphas is something only an ancient shifter can pull off, but I’ve come up with a simple solution that requires less diligence on your part.” Deacon leaned back in his chair, having finished his own breakfast in record time. “Since the time until the tribunal is going to be taxing with many distractions, the less you have to focus on shielding yourself, the better.”

  She brushed her hands on her jeans. His constant reference to work and difficulties triggered a tingle of alarm along her nerves. One she couldn’t dispel. She was more than willing to work hard. Still, a little positive motivation never hurt. “What does the constellation entail? Or should I wait until later.”

  “No, now is fine. Good, actually, because we’ll use what you learn for binding your shield. Close your eyes.”

  Mirroring his posture, she sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Does everything require closed eyes? I don’t see you closing your eyes.”

  “Don’t get smart with me, or I won’t teach you special things.”

  Wow, had he just joked with her? Shocked, she dropped her arms and braced her elbows on the table, but kept her eyes closed. She couldn’t imagine having this conversation with her alpha. Or anyone else. But the realization he valued her enough to mentor her came with its own warm tingle. Appreciation perhaps. And pride. If it only lasted for a few days, she’d never forget this feeling. Please let this all not be wasted effort. Fighting to keep her hands relaxed and not showing her rising anxiety, she scrunched her eyes tight.

  “Now think of people close to you in your clan. Ones you trust. Picture images of their faces, snapshots of memories. Keep that flowing and touch your beast. Don’t unleash her, but let her share those images.”

  Aubrey’s snide flick of her fingers when she was downplaying another near disaster. One of Quinn’s self-deprecating laughs at his own bad jokes. Elijah wiping down his bar as he scowled at the patrons in the room to make sure no one left that couldn’t find their way safely home. The bright gleam in Breslin’s eye as he bent naked to kiss her in front of the fire.

  Her eyes flew open, and she gasped. Heat flooded along her cheeks as a deep longing twisted her gut.

  Deacon reached across the table and grasped one of her hands, his gaze shimmering with power. “Whatever that was, lock it down, and don’t let it interfere with what you’re doing.” He waited until she nodded, then released her. “Focus again.”

  The gray swirled, images filtering through again. As the urge built to remember her night with Breslin, she squelched it and forced safer pictures.

  “Now. Feel the vibration of your beast.”

  The calming, steady thrum of her bear at peace joined her. “Yes.”

  “That’s right. You both share the responsibility and care for the people gifted to you by the land of your birth and the magic of the ancients. In your mind, position those images around you.”

  The grays deepened, darkened. But instead of black, a sea of midnight blue floated before her. Her alpha power tickled over her skin, distinct from her beast, but persistent. One after another, pinpoints of light flickered to life around her. The steady rosy beam to her right—Aubrey. No longer an image, the light pulsed with her friend’s unique vibration and hue. One by one, Rayven examined each light close to her, and several that remained too far away and too pale to identify. One golden nugget remained close enough to touch. She tried to make out the particulars, but when she reached for it, it dissolved like mist and solidified again as she drew back. No, it couldn’t be him. Yet, she knew without a doubt that it was Breslin. But his light shone for her always out of reach, proof of the impossibility of their full mating. Never hers to completely claim. Her bear brushed inside her with a mournful rumble.

  Her heart seized, and she opened her eyes again.

  All the dishes were cleared, yet Deacon stared at her with the same riveting gaze. “You need to learn patience.”

  “Patience isn’t an alpha’s strong suit, Deacon,” Lena added gently. He turned his head sideways for several long moments, as if a private conversation existed between them. With a swift exhale, he nodded. “Perhaps.”

  Any further explanation ended as a man with dark brown hair, eyes the color of Elijah’s finest whiskey, and wearing a crisp button-down shirt and pressed slacks that screamed “civilized and efficient” entered the kitchen. On his heels strode a petite woman with shoulder-length glossy brown hair and fawn-colored eyes so variegated in hue, they looked golden. Her cargo pants and buttercup knit top were more relaxed than the clothes of the man beside her, but something about the way she carried herself indicated she wasn’t to be disregarded. They both
stopped at the table and looked at Deacon expectantly.

  “Just in time,” he said, and motioned them to sit. “Rayven, this is Callum Mann and Brindy Yost.”

  Rayven froze upon hearing the woman’s name, her gaze riveted to Breslin’s fox shifter accomplice. Brindy stared back with a half smile and knowing look.

  “I can see why Breslin’s so determined to tame your clan members and get them to work with him,” Brindy said. “He—”

  “Brindy.” Deacon cut her off, depositing two cups of coffee in front of the newcomers. Both stared at him in surprise. “We’ll stick to the issues at hand. Just the search and your agreement to help Ms. Karndottir.”

  What the heck? And how had Brindy seen Breslin with anyone from her clan? “When was this?”

  Brindy pressed her lips together and glanced at Deacon, but despite his subtle rebuke, she still had a glint of humor in her eyes and continued. “They’ve recently determined a potential location where Nathan is being held and are—well, working together on a plan to free him.”

  Really. Rayven shot Deacon a glance, but he pretended he was intent on reviewing a folder Callum had placed before him. Since when did Alpha Black feign innocence to her? However, she eyed Brindy in a new light. Yes, Breslin had left. But to find Nathan? Deacon could avoid telling her, but she owed Brindy for making sure she knew where Breslin had gone and why.

  “Rayven, you might know Callum and his mate,” Lena said over her coffee cup as she watched her husband’s actions with fascination. Enough so, it confirmed he was acting odd. “They were originally from your territory.”

  “Actually,” Callum interjected with a quick glance at Deacon. “Brindy and I are both here to provide your cover.”

  “My what?”

  “Not quite what that sounds like.” Callum added, now scowling. “We…I…well. Deacon?”

  A chuckle erupted from Deacon as he signed a paper, pushed the folder aside, and sat back. “The things I do.” Linking his arm over the back of his mate’s chair, he assessed Rayven. “We have a few more people coming, but the basic idea is that Callum, Brindy, and a few others in my clan have offered to share the vibration of their essence with you. They will open themselves to you and provide the shield to hide your alpha power from those attending the tribunal.”