Xander said, “Hawk,” and jerked his chin at Jacqueline. Then he and Morgan left without another glance in her direction.
Hawk crossed the room quickly, holding out his hand to her. “We have to go.”
Automatically, Jack backed away. He stopped dead in his tracks and lowered his hand.
“Do you think I’m going to hurt you?” he asked, voice gruff.
Jack’s heart was pounding. She was confused, her brain felt addled, and having him near was short-circuiting what little logical thinking ability she had left. With him in it, the room felt too close and warm, decidedly uncomfortable.
“I’d prefer not to travel on your shoulder, if you don’t mind,” she answered, avoiding his question. He looked her over, his jaw tight, then nodded curtly.
“There isn’t a bridge to my home from here, but there is one that leads to Morgan and Xander’s. It would be . . . best . . . if you stayed there for now.”
He didn’t look as if he thought it would be best, but she nodded anyway, relieved yet also oddly disappointed she wouldn’t be going back with him to his own spare, masculine space.
That’s it. You’ve officially lost your damn mind!
“Follow me,” he said, and turned to leave. Jack hesitated, but then did as he instructed, walking quickly to keep up with his long strides. Once outside, he took one of the four suspension bridges through the trees in the opposite direction they’d originally come from. Below on the forest floor, a steady stream of people was also moving in this direction, and Jack stared down at them, fascinated.
She asked, “Who is Leander? And why is Morgan afraid of him? And what’s this about a Queen?”
She thought she heard an aggravated exhalation, but couldn’t be sure. The throbbing beat of drums drowned it out.
“Leander is the Alpha from another colony. Most of the members of his colony in England have already relocated here due to the threats against us, but he and the Queen and a few final families were left. The Queen is exactly what she sounds like: a Queen. The most powerful one of all the Ikati. Who apparently is missing.”
They were moving quickly through the trees, passing house after ingenious tree house, following the network of bridges deeper into the forest. Jack was too busy trying to keep up to spend too much time marveling at the beauty of it all. She jerked away from the left-hand guide rope with a strangled scream as a hairy brown spider as big as a crab crawled up from under it.
Hawk halted when he heard her. He blew out a breath when he caught sight of the spider. “It eats fruit,” he said, then turned and walked on. Over his shoulder, he added, “As for Leander, you could say his relationship with Morgan is . . . complicated.”
“Complicated?”
“He once ordered her killed for treason.”
Jack sucked in a shocked breath.
That’s how we met. He was an assassin, I was his mark. Funny, isn’t it, the strange ways love stories can begin?
Oh God. This place was like one of those Korean melodramas her neighbor Mrs. Lee watched on TV, all murder plots and espionage and crazy royals. How on Earth had she ended up here?
“He’s not going to hurt her now, though, right?” For some reason, the thought of that made Jack’s stomach turn over.
Hawk muttered, “You can never predict what an Alpha will do.” He stopped at the trunk of a tree where the bridges split in four directions. “That’s it.”
She stood there hesitantly, looking in the direction he was pointing. The house was a bi-level wood structure like his, covered in curling vines and lined with unlit iron lanterns along the walkway to the front door. It looked friendly and pretty, and not at all like somewhere she wanted to go.
“Can’t . . . can’t I just stay with you?” she asked, her voice small.
The question affected him, evidenced by the way his eyes flared, the way he sucked in a breath, leaning toward her. But he caught himself. He jerked away and looked off into the trees, swallowing.
“It’s safer for you here,” he said, his voice rough, not meeting her eyes. “At least for the time being. I don’t think it would be wise for anyone else to find out about your . . . condition. There’s someone who might have answers for me, and I’ll go to him as soon as I can, but for right now . . . I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to trust me.”
There was so much she didn’t know. So much he wasn’t telling her. Though he’d scared her when he appeared after she’d woken up, and angered her when he carried her over his shoulder to the Assembly room, he’d been nothing but gentle and patient with her. He’d been . . . caring.
Watching him, so obviously conflicted, so obviously trying not to show whatever emotions he was feeling, a snippet of her conversation with Morgan came back to her.
So you’re asking me to . . . what? Pretend?
No. I’m asking you to be patient. And understanding, even though you don’t understand, and never will, because you’re a different species from him. Just like every other woman who loves a man.
It had seemed like an odd aside at the time, just one more bit of insanity. But now it hit her as if she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning.
Were they in love? Was that part of what she wasn’t remembering? Was that the cause of all this sexual tension between them, sizzling like butter in a hot pan?
Hawk must have sensed her shock, because he looked at her sharply, his eyes dark. “What is it?”
Eyes wide, Jack stared at him. “Tell me one thing, Hawk.”
He stared back at her, taut as a bowstring. Waiting.
Feeling terrified, electrified, fraught with the most exquisite thrill, she whispered, “What’s the most important thing I’ve forgotten?”
She watched him fight. She watched the vein throb in his temple, the way his lips pressed hard together, the way his hands flexed. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut, and his breathing faltered.
And she watched as he opened his eyes and said roughly, “This.”
He took her in his arms and kissed her.
It was hot and hard and delicious, edged with tangible desperation; his tongue invaded her mouth as his hands crushed her against him, tangled in her hair, wrapped around her bottom. She arched against him, feeling the heat and rightness of his body, a thrill running through her when she heard the sound of pleasure he made, low in his throat.
It lasted forever. Or at least it felt as if it did; time had lost all meaning. Finally he pulled away, holding her face in his hands, breathing hard.
She swayed, breathing just as hard as he was. He steadied her with his strong arm wrapped around her waist.
“That definitely seems important,” she said, feeling as boneless as a rag doll. He was so large and male and gorgeous, and he tasted amazing, and Jack was having a hard time coming up with any reason she shouldn’t kiss him again.
So she did.
He pushed her back against the tree, pressed the length of his body against hers, and Jack had the wild thought he would tear off all her clothes and take her right then and there, in the open.
But then he broke away, panting, his expression tortured. “Stay here,” he commanded, taking a step back, then another. “Stay inside.”
Jack couldn’t speak. She was too overwhelmed. Too ambivalent. She didn’t trust what would come out of her mouth.
“Promise me, Jacqueline. Please. I have to go. There’s something I have to do, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. I swear I’ll tell you everything, you can ask me any question you want. But if I can’t be sure you’re going to be safe in the meantime, I won’t be able to . . . I won’t be able . . .”
More of Morgan’s words came back to haunt her, and a chill ran over her skin.
Hawk is going to put his life on the line in a contest against the man who leads this little colony of ours . . . and only one of them is going to
emerge from that contest alive.
“Yes,” she whispered, “okay. I will.”
His relief was palpable. He scrubbed his hands over his face. He took one long, last look at her, then turned to leave.
“Hawk.”
He turned back, staring at her with an expression that was truly awful to behold. Pain and frustration and longing . . . and hope. Most of all—worst of all—hope.
You’ve given him hope, and if you take it away . . . I think it will kill him.
Jack took a breath. In a voice clear and unwavering, she said, “I want you to win.”
It startled him. He stared at her, his eyes searching, until finally he nodded.
“I will.” It was a promise, spoken in a voice reverberating with emotion. “For you, Jacqueline, I will.”
Then he turned and walked away.
The meeting of two Alphas was never a simple affair, or one devoid of danger.
Their race was as old as the bones of the Earth, their ways just as fixed. Only one Alpha ruled a colony, and his word was Law. An Alpha was bred for one thing, and one thing only: domination.
So when two of them were forced into close proximity, animosity abounded. The potential for a violent eruption was never far off.
“Alejandro,” said Leander. Though his tone and aspect were perfectly polite, his eyes were narrowed to slits. Tall and lean, cool and composed, he stood in front of his party, a commanding presence that had all the other males in the vicinity standing up a little straighter. An aura of power, both electric and dark, encircled him like a bubble.
In contrast, Alejandro seemed flustered. His eyes were bright. His face was flushed. Though he was flanked by his cadre of guards, as he stood at the head of his entire colony, he was fidgeting like a child during church.
“Leander,” he snapped. His eyes moved beyond Leander, taking in the viscount, the others. “And where is our beautiful Queen?”
The crowd, jostling shoulder to shoulder to get a good look at the spectacle, hushed.
Where, indeed?
They stood in an open clearing at the forefront of the colony, where the jungle gave way to ordered beds of flowers and vegetable gardens, near the grotto and hidden pools used for bathing. It was hot. The air was still. Sweat trickled down the back of Morgan’s neck.
Deadly soft, Leander asked, “She’s not here?”
A ripple of tension ran through the crowd. Standing beside Xander, Morgan shivered with a premonition of doom.
“Here?” repeated Alejandro, blinking. “Why would she be here? I know nothing of this. I thought she traveled with you.”
Leander’s gaze moved over the gathering. Though his expression revealed exactly nothing, Morgan knew he was assessing. Calculating. His eyes found hers through the crowd, pierced her, and for a moment she was breathless with terror.
This was the first time she’d seen him in years. A lifetime ago, he’d ordered her dead. His Queen had intervened, and she’d been spared . . . but his Queen was not here at the moment.
The man Morgan had betrayed to the enemy—a man Morgan had hated her entire life because of his arrogance, because of his power over her fate—stood just behind Leander, glaring at her through his small, round spectacles, his mouth as pinched as a prune.
Viscount Weymouth was just as vile as she remembered. I hope you rot in hell, she thought, glaring back at him, then realized with a start Leander was still staring at her.
One corner of Leander’s mouth quirked. He gave the barest of nods, then looked away, releasing her.
Morgan sagged against Xander’s strong shoulder. He wound his arm around her, pulling her close. He bent and whispered in her ear, “There, you see? I told you he’d be fine.”
The day’s not over yet. She burrowed closer to him.
“Where’s Bhojak? And LeBlanc?” said Leander to Alejandro. “I want to call a meeting of the Council of Alphas. As soon as possible.”
Bhojak and LeBlanc were the Alphas from the Nepal colony and the Quebec colony, respectively. They’d arrived with their retinues months ago, and had retreated with them to far corners of the rainforest settlement, as far away from each other and Alejandro as possible. They rarely mingled with others, excluding themselves from the frequent rituals and ceremonies that took place. They and their families were refugees, and though they’d been welcomed with open arms, they had a refugee’s sense of displacement, of longing for home. Of rage.
“I’ll call them,” Alejandro said.
“Maybe you should wait for that meeting until after we decide who the Alpha of this colony actually is.”
Hawk stepped forward, shouldering through the crowd. Everyone fell back in silence to let him pass. He came to a halt in front of Leander, gave a respectful nod of his head, then turned to Alejandro. He said, “Don’t you agree? Brother?”
A snarl of such hostility ripped from Alejandro’s throat that all the tiny hairs on Morgan’s body stood on end. Hawk, however, simply smiled.
“A challenger,” said Leander with interest, eying Hawk. For some reason, he sounded not at all surprised by this turn of events.
“A good-for-nothing, illegitimate bastard!” spat Alejandro.
“ ‘Illegitimate bastard’ is redundant.” Leander spoke to Alejandro, but his gaze, razor sharp, stayed on Hawk. “And I’m afraid he’s correct, under the circumstances. The meeting will have to wait. When does it happen?”
When Alejandro didn’t reply—too busy shaking in fury and biting his tongue—one of his guards spoke. “Sunset.” He hesitated only a moment before adding, “My Lord.”
“Then we’ll have the meeting an hour after sunset,” Leander said, still staring at Hawk. The two of them locked eyes. Neither moved, or said another word, but there was violence in the stillness and silence, and for the first time, Morgan felt real fear for Hawk.
Leander had, so far, killed three challengers to his own rule. He could easily make it four.
Tension rippled in a palpable wave through the crowd.
Still looking at Hawk, he called out, “Morgan. Alexander. Will you please show us to our quarters?”
They made their way forward, and it was only when they finally stood directly in front of him that Leander looked away from Hawk. He looked first at Xander, nodding, then at Morgan. She willed herself not to break eye contact with him.
“You look well,” he said. “Jenna will be pleased to know the jungle hasn’t wilted you.”
That was all that he said, but with those neutral words, Morgan knew he meant her no harm. She released the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Xander squeezed her hand. “I can think of few things that could,” she said, and, just for good measure, dropped a swift, graceful curtsy.
Leander pressed his lips together, his eyes dancing with mirth. So low it was almost inaudible, he said, “Agreed.”
Xander said, “Shall we?”
“Lead the way.”
Hand in hand, Xander and Morgan pushed through the whispering crowd, while Leander and his entourage followed.
As they walked, Morgan felt Viscount Weymouth’s eyes burning into her back.
Years later, Jack would look back on the next twenty-four hours as the single most defining day of her life.
She’d never been good at waiting, she remembered that much about herself as she paced back and forth inside Morgan’s elegant home as the shadows grew long on the floor, and the songs of the night creatures of the forest began to echo through the trees. She also knew she’d once excelled at hiding, at slipping unnoticed through spaces and melting into the background, though she didn’t recall exactly why she might have cultivated that talent.
Combined with a growing sense of anxiety and the two aforementioned facts, Jack found it impossible to keep her promise to Hawk. At dusk, she crept from her assigned waiting spo
t, climbed silently down the planks affixed to the tree that formed a ladder to the ground, and followed the thrum of the drums into the jungle.
She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but what she encountered stole all the breath from her lungs.
In a clearing surrounded on three sides by towering trees, the fourth a sheer cliff wall of red clay, where a flock of hundreds of blue and scarlet macaws perched, preening and picking at it, was a massive depression in the ground, roughly the shape of an oval. Ringed at regular intervals with torches spitting flame, with sides that sloped down toward a flat, dirt floor, it was a naturally formed arena. A throng of people encircled it, and many more were perched in the branches of the trees all around, staring down, watching the two men who stood there, bare-chested and barefoot, facing one another.
The man facing her direction was Hawk.
She knew immediately this was the contest Morgan had told her about. This was the fight where only one victor could emerge.
Jack crept forward, careful to keep behind the trees, stifling a scream as a brilliant blue snake with a red-tipped tail slid silently down the trunk closest to her. She jumped back, her hand to her chest, and bumped into something solid.
“Well, well, what have we here?”
Jack whirled around. Standing there in the shadows was a man with iron-gray hair and small, round spectacles. He was older, paunchy, and had a menacing smile and freezing eyes.
He reached out and grabbed her.
It should have surprised him more than it did. But Edward had come to understand during his time on Earth to expect the unexpected . . . so the sight of a half-dressed human female creeping around in the jungle, obviously spying, was little more than another oddity of his already odd life.
She was strong for a human—a female human, at that—but she wasn’t a match for him, though he was no longer young. Or even in shape, for that matter. He twisted her arm behind her back, so high she squealed in pain, lifting onto her toes. He yanked her head back with a hand in her hair and hissed an unmistakable warning in her ear, enforced by the presence of the stiletto he always carried, now pressed against her throat.
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