by Jeff Hale
As we made our way out of the hospital, I heard him say softly next to me, “Yeah, sometimes it does.”
FIVE
DARIEN
I rolled out of the way of the kick, still tasting blood in my mouth from the lightning fast punch I hadn’t dodged. Justin was good, I had to give him credit for that, but he was younger than I was and didn’t have the life experience.
I shifted to Aspect form mid-roll, the form most people think of when they think of werewolves, springing to my feet and charging in to grapple him. He hit the ground hard, shifting under me in response, a snarl escaping him.
I didn’t hesitate, driving claws deep into his belly while my fangs snapped at his throat, hearing the shouts and cheers of those watching above. I pulled power from deep inside me, strengthening my skin and my claws both, and when his own claws failed to do more than gouge my side, I found myself sailing backward several feet as he fought to get me away from him.
The kid was a good defensive fighter, but I had never been much for defensive myself, and while I could force my assailants away just as easily, I didn’t put nearly as much time into sharpening those skills as I might have.
Another pull of power and short bony spikes emerged from various points along my skin, making me a less desirable target to close with. Justin had gotten to his feet, the short fur covering his body only a few shades lighter than my own black. His ears were flattened back, lips pulled back to show fang as he growled at me. We circled each other for a moment, looking for openings, the puncture wounds I had left in his stomach healing slightly as we did so. I was going to let him come to me this time.
Sure enough, he did, launching himself in my direction when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. I braced myself for the impact, turning my body so that he would do the most damage to himself against me, and as he closed, I drew one arm up and raked him from neck to groin before spinning with him and throwing him to the ground underneath me again as the crowd roared.
I saw fear in his blue eyes then, the certain knowledge that I was more powerful than he was, and that I could seriously hurt him. A flash of another set of blue eyes, also filled with fear, pleading with me, professing her love of someone else, went through my mind and a stab of blinding rage followed it.
He had blue eyes too, the man that had stolen her from me, and I took my anger, my jealousy, my fury out on the victim before me, impaling him over and over while I howled and growled and snarled above him, until my claws and arms were slick with blood and those watchers in the seats above the small outdoor arena were screaming and yelling in glee.
My body shuddered, shifting back to human against my will as my master forced my change; he didn’t want me killing Justin, a promising recruit for his army. Furred hands pulled me away as I tried to continue what I had been doing.
Grimm, my master, might have been able to make me human again, but he couldn’t take my rage.
I fought them as they dragged me off, the boos of the crowd only fueling me; they wanted me to kill Justin, wanted to see me tear him limb from limb. If Justin hadn’t been a feral shifter, like me, Grimm just might have let me do it, given the fae that crowded around the top of the wooden palisade the blood and death they so craved. But feral shifters were hard to come by to begin with, and feral werewolves even more so.
They let me go once they had me out of the arena. I wasn’t a prisoner; none of us that filled the ranks of Grimm’s werewolf army were. Grimm was our Alpha, our master, and we stayed through our loyalty to him.
Sometimes that loyalty seemed a bit hazy to me, as though I wasn’t sure of my choice. But I was haunted by blood-red hair and tear filled sea-blue eyes, and the knowledge that I had given her every reason to hate me. There was no place else for me to go that didn’t make me feel like I wasn’t worthy of being there.
The air was mildly chilly, the determined thin remains of snow wet under my bare feet, although it did nothing to cool the fire inside me. I was naked, but it was nothing I wasn’t used to; when you are part of a large group of shifters, especially if you are shifting multiple times a day, whether to Aspect or wolf, you get used to nudity since clothing tended to not survive the transition intact.
Oh, I had heard of the newly marketed items from the sorcerers, which enchanted the clothing permanently so that it disappeared into some dimensional pocket, then reappeared on the shifter when he or she went back to human form, but Grimm was old, very old, and preferred his pack to do things the way nature meant for us to do.
I screamed my madness to sky above me, cloudy where I could see it through the thick growth of the pines and firs that towered overhead. I stalked away from the arena, breathing deeply of the new spring scented air, until I reached the high wooden fence that surrounded the compound. I leaned against it with my hands, arms outstretched before me, eyes to the ground, and watched misty plumes of my exhaled breath as I tried to let the rage bleed out of me.
I had fucked it up. I had fucked everything up.
Katelyn.
Gone now, pushed away by my own arrogance or stolen away by some magic wielding human boy, it didn’t matter either way. I loved her, or at least I loved her soul, that part of her that had also been Sasha.
My fingers dug into the logs that formed the fence as remembered laughter echoed in my ears, Sasha’s hand in mine, blue eyes flashing as she pulled me across the sand toward the water, sunlight glinting off her long dark hair. She would splash out until the water was at her waist, then she would shift dolphin, to what for her would be the equivalent of my Aspect form, becoming the closest thing to a mermaid the world had ever seen. She would play in the surf, darting through the water, tail splashing, while I ran along the sand in wolf form.
She was gone, too, for almost twenty-two years now. I never did find out exactly what had happened, only that she had died. My heart had shattered as I felt her die and a few days later I had found her bracelet, the one I had given her as a wedding gift, half buried in the sand along the shore. I hadn’t needed to see a body, much as I would have given anything to hold her one last time; I knew with a certainty that she was forever beyond my reach.
Then I had met Katelyn and felt the pull of Sasha’s reincarnated soul within her. But Kat wasn’t Sasha, and sometimes I had a hard time remembering that, forgot that Kat had her own personality, her own experiences.
I knew that Kat felt drawn to me, felt that tug from her previous life, and that she desired me, but she had hardly known me, and maybe I had been expecting too much from her to have her love me as well. But the thought of her leaving me, of having another man touch her, had nearly driven me insane with a jealousy I found hard to control.
I had wanted to kill Alex when I had seen him kissing her. But Alex was my best friend, my pack; he had kept me sane when Sasha had died and been my conscience when I needed it since then.
He’d still been pretty messed up when I had gotten done with him, but he knew that I had claimed Kat as my mate, knew the consequences. At that point I had still held out hope that she would feel the same way for me that I did for her, even when she insisted on dating the normal human boy she went to school with.
That had been my mistake.
I should never have let her leave the house that night. I could have forced the issue; I could have locked her in a room and watched her every move. That’s what I had wanted to do, that’s what my instincts had told me to do. I was a man of my word though, and I had promised Kris that I would give Kat space… and so I did.
We had thought there was only one vampire trying to kill her and we had caught and disposed of him, or rather, Matt had very viciously ended its unlife. I remember being utterly taken aback by the rakshasa, whom I had never really seen so cold and ruthless. We had thought, that other than from the things that had been let loose when the Barrier had fallen, that Kat was safe.
We had been wrong.
When more vampires had shown up, had killed the human boy she was with, and traumatized h
er into shifting for the first time, instead of calling me or Matt for help, she had called the sorcerer boy that she had previously dated, Aerick.
He had shown up and taken her away to a place he deemed safe for her, and then he had claimed her for his own. I had hurt her in a fit of jealousy after that, and promised her I would never lay a hand on her again.
I kept my promises.
But nine months is a long time to go without seeing or touching the one thing that makes you feel like it’s worthwhile to take your next breath.
“Darien?”
I had heard her approach, despite my inner conflict, despite the fact that her step was light in the thin layer of snow that covered the dirt.
“Go away, Nikki,” I growled at her, softly. I didn’t want her near me; she only reminded me of what I couldn’t have.
Her hand came to rest on my forearm, slightly darker than my own light bronze, the genetic gift from my Apache and Sicilian heritage. Her fingers were slim but strong, and I had felt them on my skin before. I didn’t love her, only marginally liked her, but she satisfied the physical needs in me well enough. I shook her hand off.
She was silent a moment, and I could feel her dark amber eyes on me. Finally, she held something out to me. “I brought you these.” Her accent was unusual in these parts; she’d been born in India.
I looked at the bundle she held out; a pair of my dark jeans, and a long-sleeved shirt the same color. I wanted to yell at her for invading my privacy, for going through my things… for bringing me back to reality, but I knew she had only done it out of a real concern for me. Nikki made no bones about her feelings for me, despite the fact that she knew I didn’t, couldn’t, return them.
I shifted my gaze to her. Her hair was a dark gold, contrasting starkly with her skin, and I could see the faint wisps of her breath. I didn’t know if her hair color was natural, or out of a box, but it looked good on her.
She wore jeans that rode low on her hips and a heavy sweater that only made her slim frame look smaller. She was tall, only a couple inches shorter than my own six foot. She shook the clothes at me and I finally took them from her, pulling them on over my nakedness. I didn’t bother to thank her.
“Justin is going to be okay,” she said, still watching me closely, her hands now tucked into her pants pockets. “If you even care, that is.”
Do I? I ran a hand through my short black hair, still not quite used to it after decades of having it to my waist. My anger was finally fading, although it was never entirely gone anymore, but I had no personal grudge against Justin; he’d just been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end when I had lost control. “I didn’t want to kill him.”
Nikki raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what it looked like to me… or anyone else.”
I shook my head. “Not him, he just… reminded me of someone briefly.”
She gave me a measuring look. She knew better than to ask, knew that she wouldn’t get any answers out of me. I’d gone as far as to tell her that there was another woman that held my heart, that I’d claimed as my mate, so she would know why I could never return her feelings, but that was all.
“Grimm wants to talk to you,” she said, frowning.
I followed her as she started to lead the way back to the arena. Grimm would be there until midnight, when his festivities were over until the following dawn. He held one of these events a couple times a month, a full forty eight hours each time, to entertain the bloodthirsty fae he had allied himself with. The fights had other benefits; it helped us to hone our skills and weed out the weak, as well as being very profitable for Grimm since the fae tended to place large wagers on the outcomes.
The arena was constructed of wood, roughly oval in shape, with high walls and seating that overlooked the earthcovered grounds of the fighting area. Grimm had an area at one end for himself and his lieutenants, situated over the wooden gate that led inside. Stairs led up to the sitting area on either side, as well as at varying intervals along the outside walls for the other spectators.
As I followed Nikki up the steps, I cast my glance around the compound, feeling once again like there were eyes watching me, eyes that didn’t belong to any of Grimm’s followers. I had felt that way several times over the last month.
Grimm was seated in a chair made from thick ironwood, his eyes on the three that were fighting below, not missing a detail. I had no clue how old he was, but his hair was still golden blonde, long and pulled back at the nape by a leather strap, his eyes a blue so pale they almost looked clear. He was a tall man when standing, topping my own six foot by at least five inches, broad through the shoulders and narrow through the hips. The Alpha aura that radiated off of him was so strong that it made my own seem nonexistent and I dropped to my knees in front of him as I always did.
He didn’t acknowledge me for several minutes, waiting until the fight below had finished. The noises of exultation and disappointment from those watching were loud around me, and Grimm’s three lieutenants, stationed behind and to either side of him, all slapped their chests in respect. All three were his natural born sons, although only one of them favored Grimm in coloration, the other two being darker skinned and haired.
“You fight well, Darien, vicious and merciless,” Grimm finally said, his accent unplaceable. He let his eyes rest briefly on me before turning them back to the arena floor and signaling with a nod of his head for the next match to begin.
“Thank you, m’lord, I am here only to—” I began, but he cut me off with another look, one that held severity.
“But you lack self-control, and that is not acceptable. You cannot let your emotions guide your hand. If anything happens again like it did with Justin today then I will personally give you lessons in self-control and they will probably not be much to your liking. Do you understand?” Grimm’s tone was neutral, only his words letting me know his displeasure.
I pushed my own fear of him back down, returning his gaze as evenly as I could. “Yes, m’lord.”
“Go prepare yourself then, you have another bout five more from now.” I was dismissed, as quickly as that.
I rose and headed back down the steps, Nikki falling in behind me as I passed her. There were several female werewolves in Grimm’s pack, all feral since Grimm would not tolerate any wilder or savaged shifters. A couple of them were Grimm’s preferred consorts, although I wasn’t sure any were his mate, and each of his sons had their own claimed mate.
The rest were concubines of the pack, Nikki among them, and the strongest of us either kept them to ourselves or grudgingly shared them. I personally had no concern who Nikki cared to share her favors with, but ever since I had shown up she had refused any other wolf but me. I spent my time either not caring, or finding her presence somewhat irritating, but neither kept me from turning her away from my bed.
She stopped me at the bottom of the steps, a hand pulling on my arm, and when I turned to face her she rose up and pressed her lips to mine. I wasn’t in the mood for such play and let her know it with a snarl and a shove that sent her stumbling.
Her eyes darkened as she stared at me. “You have very few friends here, Darien. You are one of the newest wolves and yet Grimm seems to value you above some who have been his for decades. Don’t push away those who give a damn.”
I shot a glare at her, then turned my back and stalked towards the barracks that lay not far from the arena. I’d already cut ties with anyone who had cared; even Alex had finally given up on me to lead his own life.
I hadn’t joined Grimm’s pack to make new friends; I’d joined it to lose myself.
I felt her hand on my arm again and I snapped around, hand upraised. She stood defiantly, daring me to finish the movement, letting me know silently that she’d stand there and take it if I did. I didn’t. Instead, I grabbed hold of her wrist, dragging her none too gently behind me as I rounded the barracks to the back where it was more secluded. Once there, I pulled her roughly to me, my lips harsh on hers as I let the self-loath
ing inside me find another outlet.
“Yes,” she whispered against my mouth, her hands already working at my jeans. “Let it go, Darien, let me take your pain away…”
She began to undo her own jeans when she had mine at my feet, but I toppled her to her back, a few quick tugs tearing the denim from her. A growl broke my throat as I buried myself in her, the chill afternoon air echoing with her moans as I took her on the snow dusted earth.
____________________________
Moonlight shone down brightly through the branches of the trees surrounding the compound. I stopped my movement briefly and lifted my face to the sky, letting the pale beams linger on my skin; it was gibbous waxing, still several days before it would full in its glory.
Contrary to most legends, werewolves, or even shifters in general, did not change unbidden on the full moon. There were some that the moon forced a change on, but they were revenants of a sort, unable to control themselves while shifted, completely lost to their animal; these were probably the shifters that had spawned tales of the Wolfman, and Grimm had several of them locked tightly away in a building meant to keep them in. I wasn’t sure what plans he had for them, and I wasn’t really sure I wanted to know.
I resumed my patrol, this being mine, along with three others, turns to keep watch on the inside of the compound, to make sure no one got in who wasn’t supposed to. Grimm wasn’t too worried about anyone leaving; he needed us here of our own free will, however much he might try to sway us to his side.
Aside from the arena, there were several buildings in the compound. One housed Grimm’s personal living quarters along with that of his sons and their mates, there were two long barracks for the rest of his recruits, and another smaller housing building for the women.
Nikki would be in there now, sleeping, healing away any of the residual damage that I might have done to her earlier in the evening when I had fucked her. And that’s all it had been, all it had ever been; I certainly wasn’t making love to her, and even ‘having sex’ seemed too tame a term. Rape might have been a better word if she wasn’t always willing and encouraging me to do whatever I wanted to her; I would never lay a hand on an unwilling female ever again.