Savage Exile: Lion Hearts Book Five

by Lane, Cecilia

  Breathing hard, he pushed to his feet and disappeared down the hall. She heard water running for a second, then he strode back into her living room as if it didn’t matter neither of them wore a stitch of clothing.

  His pointer finger caught her chin and turned her face upwards. He dipped down and pressed his lips to hers, then just as quickly stepped away. “You better believe me now when I say you’re a powerful lioness.”

  Sage caught her lip between her teeth. For the first time in a long, long while, she let herself believe.

  Chapter 19

  Rhys gave his horse a final scratch on the nose and slipped out of the stall. Trent and Lindley were still brushing down their mounts, while Dash and Seth already milled around the front of the barn waiting for the final word to end the day.

  He took a seat on an overturned bucket outside of the tack room and ran his fingers over his latest carving. It was almost done, he thought, but only time would tell if it’d stand tall or keep toppling over. Just a few more details, a little more shaping, and he’d see.

  He felt light. Lighter than he had in years. Which should have made him wary. Good, for him, was shifting only once a day and not drawing blood, not laughter and light touches.

  And Sage, well…

  Rhys shook his head. Fucking hell. He poked himself with the point of his knife just to make sure he wasn’t asleep. The prick of pain and tiny drop of blood were real enough to almost convince him. Even if he was still dreaming, he preferred it to the bleakness of days before.

  Her little show had been entirely unexpected. From her asking what he’d do if she could handle it to requesting he strip down with her, every damn second had been a blessing and a surprise.

  Little cat had much more fire in her than she realized.

  His lion unfurled inside him, stretching his claws in pure contentment. Her scent was still thick in his nose. He’d fallen asleep with the memory of red spreading over her cheeks, her head thrown back, pleasure etched into every inch of her frame. That was how a woman should be made to feel, not the fear and anger that spawned from mistreatment.

  He’d do his damnedest to fill her up with all the good and distract her from thoughts of the bad.

  A shadow fell over him, and he stopped whittling away more of the wood.

  “You better not hurt my sister,” Lindley growled.

  “You’re the one who asked me to save her, remember?” Rhys leaned back, slowly dragging his eyes up in a show of complete unconcern. Well, maybe not complete. He liked the idea of getting under Lindley’s skin. “It’s her choice who she spends time with.”

  “In a social setting. With others around her,” the man said between gritted teeth. “Not sneaking away like a couple of handsy teenagers.”

  Rhys flashed him a toothy grin. “I wasn’t aware you held the key to her chastity belt.”

  Lindley’s eyes narrowed as anger dumped into his scent. “She’s been through enough. I won’t have her taken advantage of when she needs help.”

  Rhys shoved to his feet. “You think I’d really do that to her? Push her into something she’s not ready for?” He growled sharply, yanking back on his inner animal before the creature jumped for the man’s throat. “She makes the choices, and until she chooses to tell me to leave her alone, you can fuck off.”

  Lindley’s lips peeled back in a snarl and his eyes flashed a dangerous amber.

  “Heads up,” Seth called. “Someone’s coming up the road.”

  The words closed Lindley’s mouth with a click and they both turned their faces to the doors of the barn. Rhys wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but they stepped into the waning light at the exact moment.

  The faint purr of an engine grew louder as the seconds passed. The rainy October weather kept any clouds of dust puffing into the air, but they didn’t have long to wait before the blue SUV mounted a hill.

  “What now?” Dash growled, folding his arms over his chest.

  “Just one,” Seth said, making the obvious point. “Maybe good news. Maybe someone here for the mates.”

  “Maybe someone with a death wish,” Trent muttered darkly.

  Rhys kept his mouth shut. There wasn’t any use speculating. They’d deal with the threat if one stepped out of that damn vehicle.

  The SUV slowed as it neared the barn, then made the turn to take a place next to all their trucks.

  Not for the mates, after all.

  His lion coiled tightly inside him. The others, too, shifted from foot to foot as fur and baked earth thickened in the air.

  The driver’s door creaked open and Rhys snapped straight. He knew the face of the man rounding the hood. Never in a million years would he have suspected him making good on his threat of an in-person conversation, but there he was.

  Alton Chapman came to a stop a short distance from the lions staring him down. “Rhys. You’re looking well.”

  His brain blanked for a solid thirty seconds before kicking back on. His lion twisted and snarled in his head as remembered pain lit up his backside. “Dad,” he said flatly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Surprise washed through the others. Their tense stances slowly relaxed, but none spoke or gave the man a warm welcome. They were taking their cues from him, and he was ready to fight.

  Alton passed a look over the rest of the pride before turning dark eyes on Rhys. “Is there somewhere we could speak?”

  Four sets of eyes turned toward him. His lions hissed and screamed to turn and run, to fight and bleed, to do anything, anything, but dip his chin and turn on his heel.

  Rhys ground his teeth together and strode for his room in the barn.

  He didn’t bother to check to see if his father followed, or take in the man’s reaction to his little studio. It was a far cry from the den he had next to Sage, or the bigger home he’d shared with Hannah. He couldn’t bear to see a flicker of acknowledgement at how far he’d fallen written on Alton’s face.

  He cracked open a beer and downed the liquid in four big gulps, then shoved the empty to the back of the counter and pulled another bottle from the fridge. That one he lifted in his father’s direction in a silent question. When the man nodded, he grabbed another, popped the tops, then joined him at the table.

  For the first time, he really and truly looked at his father. The man had aged more than the six years since they’d last been in a room together. More silver than brown colored his hair. Fine lines creased the corners of his eyes and mouth. He looked… tired. Not just the tiredness from traveling across the country on some dumbshit mission to reconnect, either. There was a weariness that penetrated his shoulders and sank deep into the muscles.

  “Why are you here? Really?” Rhys scowled. “And don’t give me the shit about burying the hatchet. You were more than happy to put one in my back.”

  His father fixed him with a hard look. “We have laws, Rhys. Laws you broke.”

  “Yes, let’s talk about those laws.” Rhys planted his hands on the table. His lion roared at the pain flooding through him, still fresh after all the years. “Let’s talk about who did the killing and who went after them according to our fucking laws.”

  “You nearly exposed us! You murdered those men. Rightfully, I might add. I’m not defending what they did, but you have to take responsibility for what you did, too.” Alton leaned closer, voice lowered. “You think I could have maintained control of the pride if I’d let you walk away without repercussion? I did what I had to. You’re still alive, aren’t you? There were those that would have seen me take your head.”

  Rhys bared his teeth. There’d been a time when he’d have snapped back that they weren’t the only ones to prefer it that way. Green eyes flashed through his head and stopped his words. Green eyes, and the faint thread of juniper rain in the moonlight.

  Something had shifted in the last eight months. He’d been drowning for so long, but he’d finally broken the surface. Choppy waves still dragged at his limbs and threatened to pull him under, bu
t he tread water instead of sinking to his grave.

  He wouldn’t let his father’s bullshit tie an anchor to his feet.

  A harsh breath blasted out of him with a shake of his head. “What do you want?”

  “What any good alpha wants for their pride. For it to keep on long after I’m gone, for everyone to be cared for, to grow and succeed.” He took a sip of his drink, then set it back on the table. “The bears on our borders have gone through some transitions. Their new leadership is not as amenable as before. They’ve made incursions into the pride lands. I lost my second and two potentials to rule when I’m gone. I need someone I can count on to take over. I need someone who can fight for us.”

  Rhys barked a harsh note of laughter. “You want to bring me back? Six fucking years, and you want to bring me back to fight your wars?”

  “You are my son,” Alton said fiercely. “You belong with us.”

  “I don’t belong,” Rhys snarled back. “You made sure of that long ago.”

  Heavy silence hung between them as his words died away. His lion rushed forward in the empty seconds, slamming against the cage in his mind. The beast snarled, roared, and slashed at the bars, wanting nothing more than to inflict pain everywhere he turned. Too much hurt and betrayal piled up to stay locked inside; it needed to find a home in the outer world. He needed to see red splashed around and smell copper in the air.

  What would Hannah say about that?

  What would Sage?

  Rhys swallowed back the worst of the bile, but the hard edge of anger still stabbed at him. “Let’s say you’re right about how it all shook out. You would have lost control, you’d have faced a challenge, whatever.” He jabbed his fingers against the table to emphasize his point. “You picked them over your own son.”

  “Rhys—”

  “In all this time, not one letter. Not a single phone call until you needed something. You were more than happy to let me walk away once before.” He shook his head. “I’m not crawling back now. You made your bed when you had me whipped and exiled from the pride.”

  Alton nodded once, took a swallow of his beer, and pushed to his feet. “If that’s your decision,” he said stiffly. His eyes softened, and he added, “I’m staying in town for a few days. Should you change your mind… or just want to talk…”

  For the first time, a touch of sadness entered the man’s scent. Rhys resisted the urge to swat his hand through the air to clear it. Alton had never been a man of regrets. And as he said, he did what was necessary to keep his pride together.

  At his silence, his father stiffened. He stopped again with his hand on the door. “You should know we’ve received overtures from Jasper Crowley. We aren’t the only East Coast pride, either. I know that’s his nephew out there. Just…” he cleared his throat and opened the door. “There’s a place for you if you need it. Be safe. Be well.”

  Part of him wanted to call for Alton to wait.

  Part of him wanted to shove him through the door himself.

  Rhys growled. He didn’t owe the man anything. Not a kind word, and certainly not his loyalty. He’d been exiled from the pride and forced to find his way entirely cut off from everything and everyone he knew.

  Rhys squashed the wishy-washy bullshit with a hard pull from his bottle, then threw the empty into his sink. Only when he heard the rumble of an engine did he push to his feet and leave his room.

  Questions were written on the faces of the others as soon as he stepped outside. He ignored them all, stooped to pick up his knife and carving, then strode out of the barn.

  He needed air. Fresh air. Anything but the thick, oppressive kind in the barn that made him want to fight and bleed his frustrations out of the others.

  “Long way to travel for such a quick visit,” Trent said blandly, pushing off the side of the barn.

  Rhys grimaced at the man’s words. Fucking hell, didn’t they know when to leave him well enough alone?

  He tightened his hand around the lion carving. He needed to keep his shit together. Sage. Sage needed him to keep his shit together.

  He rolled his eyes and ground his teeth, but he answered the alpha’s unspoken question. “He wants me back.”

  Trent turned his head slightly. “And you said…?”

  “Fuck you.” He turned a narrowed look on his alpha. “You want me gone? I’ll go. In the meantime, stop trying to fix me.” He lifted a middle finger and turned to stalk back into the barn.

  The man snorted. “No, I’m not the one doing the fixing. Sage is.”

  Rhys snapped to a stop. Irritation pounding away in his temples, he turned to face the other man with a low growl on his lips. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m not going to warn you away from her. Look how that worked out with Dash and Colette. Now I’ve got the fucking bears as in-laws, of a sort.” Trent scowled. “You need to be careful with her.”

  “You think I’m going to hurt her?”

  “Not on purpose.” Trent turned his head to fix one eye on him. “Does she know everything?”

  Rhys rolled his shoulders to cut the tension. Fuck this talking bullshit. He didn’t want threats from Lindley. He didn’t want advice from Trent. “No,” he snapped. “Not everything.”

  “She needs to know.”

  A familiar boil started in his middle as his lion padded through his head. Claws swiped and slashed at his insides, upping his irritation with every stroke. He whipped the knife through the air at the nearest fence post, then sent a rock sailing with a well aimed kick.

  “Anyone else want to share their fucking opinions?” he roared at the others in the mouth of the barn.

  Silence. Glorious, delightful, accusatory silence.

  Rhys slid his eyes closed and let his lion take his skin.

  Fuck, he wanted to be anyone but himself. Sage deserved more.

  Chapter 20

  Sage practically buzzed from head to toe as she rolled one ankle, then the next. She shot a look at the clock in the kitchen, then denied she’d done it for the thousandth time. The afternoon had passed into evening, then into complete darkness. Sprinting back and forth between excitement and panic wouldn’t make the minutes pass any faster.

  But when they finally ticked down, she’d see Rhys again.

  Sage flashed a small smile at her toes, then forced herself to straighten and own her happiness. And that was what she felt. The strange tingling in the pit of her stomach, paired with the stretch of her lips and soreness in her cheeks. Smiles were easier than ever, and she didn’t need to fake them. She was happy.

  So strange after so long spent not wanting to feel anything. Now she couldn’t wait until she got the next hit, be it in the form of a secretive smile over the heads of the pride, or sitting at one end of the couch with him on the other as they watched something on TV.

  He was acclimating her to his touch. Little brushes of his hands here, breath against her skin there. Even when there wasn’t any physical contact, he made his presence known. How could she ignore the hulking white lion walking with her in the dark?

  There, too, he was reeling her in. Or maybe she was doing the reeling and he was the one slowly closing the distance until they were as near as the first night he walked her home.

  She almost couldn’t believe it’d been two hundred and sixty-four days since she’d arrived on the ranch. No, wait, sixty-five.

  There was something a little thrilling about not having the correct count in her head.

  A sharp knock on her door killed her thoughts before she lost herself in the memory of the white lion at her side. Sage whirled around, hand going to her throat. She relaxed enough to breathe again, but the automatic panic made her lip curl. She was so tired of expecting the worst at every little noise.

  Right on cue, Kyla barged inside.

  Sage spun away again to hide her annoyance. Irritation bubbled in her middle. She pressed her lips together to keep it from spilling outward.

  Then her eyes fell on
the lioness Rhys had given her. Crouched low, paw raised, that animal wouldn’t let something stay unsaid when it really bothered her. She’d raise her claws and stick up for herself.

  She scuffed her toe against the floor, then set her jaw and lifted her eyes. “Canyoustopbargingthroughmydoor?” she asked in a rush.

  Kyla cocked her head. “What was that?”

  Fuck. Sage dragged down a deep breath, then let it go slowly. She could do this. If she could strip down and play with herself in front of the biggest, meanest lion in the pride—and ask him to do the same!—she could ask Kyla for a little privacy. Easy peasy. “Can you please stop barging through my door?”

  Kyla blinked, shook her head, then blinked again. “Oh my goodness, Sage, has that been bothering you this whole time? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Here, let’s try this again.”

  She spun around and took three quick steps toward the door, but Sage caught her wrist before she stepped outside. “Not now. Just… in the future.”

  Kyla cocked her head and smiled broadly. “He’s good for you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sage felt her cheeks flame.

  “Oh, okay, sure. Definitely not the big, scary lion who has apparently gifted you one of his carvings.” Kyla pointed to the lioness sitting on her counter.

  Sage nearly cursed. Or reached for it to hide it behind her back like a child and a cookie she wasn’t supposed to have. Maybe it’d work now that she was an adult.

  Kyla squinted at the carving, then looked back at her. She took one giant, dramatic step closer, then jabbed a finger in her direction. “This is you!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she repeated. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop the grin splitting her face. Or the heat flooding her body. “It could be any lioness given for any number of reasons.”

  “Except this one has a scar like yours, which Rhys asked me about over the summer.” Her mouth dropped open with a gasp. “Sage! He’s been making you this entire time!”