Above This Grave (The Cloven Pack Series: Book Three)

by D. Fischer

  I glance back to the area I saw Dyson’s shade, my thoughts reminding me of him. I search the area, seeing nothing but the scene around it. It seemed so real . . . Was it a moment of weakness? A hallucination from an oxygen-deprived brain? Or was it actually real?

  I don’t know the answers to those questions, but I make a mental note to discuss it with Katriane. I need answers and I know she has them. She’s made a believer out of me.

  Irene cries in my chest while the Pack places the bodies into the shed. When they’re done, her sobs diminish to quiet hiccups.

  Ben waves us over. I take Irene’s hand in mine and we walk the short distance. She pauses, glancing at the charred trunk while I pick up the lit torch still on the ground, it’s flames deadened the fresh grass around it.

  Remaining silent, I stand with her. Several seconds ticking by as her mind wanders. I know that feeling all too well—that shock, that devastation. Your mind has a hard time keeping up with reality.

  I give her the chance to silently say goodbye to her brother.

  Irene grabs the gas can and we continue our walk. Once reaching the entrance of the shed, we stare at the body count, piled high in its makeshift living room.

  Breaking from her trance, Irene pours the gasoline over the bodies and steps back out of the shed. I throw the torch from where I’m at and take a moment to watch the flames engulf the pile. I turn my back from the Rogues, take my mate’s hand, and exit the shed.

  As if a closing to this chapter of our lives, Ben closes it behind me, metal clinking against metal. Together, as a group of tired, injured, grieving wolves, we walk back through the woods, through the blood-soaked ground and to our cars.

  The smoke rises in the horizon as the sun peeks over the hills, evidence of leaving our past behind us.

  ChapterSixteen

  Irene Scott

  I lean against the wall, watching as Flint coos to the little baby in his arms. Cole’s eyes have opened and he soaks in everything Flint whispers to him. His tiny blue eyes hang on every word, every murmur.

  My heart melts, my love blossoms, and I realize that I could have missed this. I was close to missing this. My mate, our possible children, my future . . . with him.

  My brother’s gone, Flint’s best friend’s gone, several Pack mate’s dead, and yet, we still stand strong. Our lives living while theirs no longer exists, sacrificed so that we may see another day. I will honor their death until my last gasping breath, but I refuse to let it stop me from living my life. I won’t let that sacrifice be wasted. And with that, I let my love for this man consume me and take my breath away.

  His eyes lift to mine, feeling me staring at him. I cross my arms as he holds his gaze and wonder what he’s thinking.

  His lips twitch, he glances at the baby and then back to me. Is he thinking about the future, too?

  Flint stands from his chair next to Kenna’s bed and carefully hands the baby back to Kenna. Tucking in the blanket Cole is swaddled in, he turns to me and nods his head toward the door.

  He leaves first and just as I’m about to follow, Evo places his hands on my shoulder. I glance up at him and we stare at each other as he reads my emotions. He gives a curt nod, squeezes my shoulder in affection, and releases me.

  I incline my head, thanking him for the wordless forgiveness and acceptance. A lump forms in my throat, relief flooding my system. All wasn’t for nothing.

  I take a deep breath, swallow the lump, and follow Flint. Descending the stairs, Flint grabs my hand once I reach the landing. He leads me to the fixed sliding glass door, opens it, and slides it shut behind me.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  He stays silent, continuing to his destination. He takes me to his quarters and we step inside.

  Latching the door quietly, he turns to me and backs me to a wall. His fingers trail down my cheek, his eyes memorizing every detail of my face.

  “If you ever do that again—if you ever try to sacrifice yourself—I- I . . . ” his voice trails off, words failing him.

  I place my arms around his waist and rest my head against his chest. “I won’t,” I whisper.

  This is my mate, the one destined for me. My strength, my weakness, my entire future. I’d never break his heart by leaving this world on purpose. Never again.

  “Good,” he grunts, picking me up.

  Placing my arms around his neck, my legs hugging his torso, he carries us through his small living room to his bedroom.

  I kiss him, placing all my feelings into it, and he returns with the same.

  He lays me gently on the bed, his body towering over me as he breaks the kiss. “I love you,” he whispers.

  I shift my head to the left and blink. Those three words could have stopped my heart. “I love you, too,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.

  He groans and captures my mouth again. Out of desperation, he fumbles with the bottom of my jeans before sliding them off my legs. Next, he discards his own, throwing them across the room.

  With one goal in mind, he skips all the foreplay, parts my folds, and slides his dick in with one, swift motion.

  A gasp from the immediate intrusion hisses between my teeth, my eyelids fluttering with the sensation. We groan together before he pumps his hips. The slap, slap, slap of skin, the immediate pressure, the sounds of our pleasure, encourages my excitement, peaking higher with its continuous build. My lower abdomen begins the familiar heat, licking my insides with delicious swirls.

  My head falls back and I moan. My walls clamp around him, sucking him in deeper. He shifts a bit, lifting my hips a little higher and rubbing just the right spot. I suck in a breath, the contact almost too much.

  His pace quickens, heat builds in my lower belly with such a force that my breaths, my skin, quiver in anticipation. He pumps faster, harder, unable to control himself.

  “Flint,” his name whispers from my lips.

  My breasts bounce, my nipples coming to a tight bud.

  He groans again. I glance at him with hooded eyes, my body rocking to the same rhythm. His eyes glow wolf, encouraging my own to reach toward the surface. His canines elongate at the same time mine do, our wolves forcing us to share the surface.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Ira,” Flint says around his teeth. “You’re mine.”

  The admission causes the heat in my belly to explode, my orgasm hitting full force. I arch my body toward Flint and sink my teeth into his neck. He groans, the sound vibrating his neck and my lips, as he reaches his climax.

  He continues pumping as he bends his head forward and returns the action. His teeth sink in and I pull my teeth from his skin, moaning as my pleasure intensifies. It builds and builds until I can no longer think straight, can no longer cope.

  Blackness descends.

  Flint Rockland

  I stand at the grave of my freshly buried Pack mates. Jessup and Evalyn are next to the one I stand before. Written on the small tombstone is Dyson Coleman. A picture of his face is etched into the rock, his cheerful smile a painful reminder of his jolly laugh I remember.

  He’s buried, six feet under my feet, and I can’t help but feel that it’s my fault. I disappeared from his life. If I hadn’t done that, if I would have remained a loyal friend, perhaps Dyson would still be alive and I could hear his laugh once more.

  Irene steps up beside me, her black dress blowing in the breeze, and takes my hand in hers. “It’s not your fault,” she says.

  I glance at her, the fresh claiming mark evidence of our union. She feels my feeling through our mating and has come to comfort her grieving mate.

  “How is it not?” I ask around the lump in my throat.

  “Dyson made a choice. You didn’t make that choice for him. He wanted to save you the only way he knew how. He loved his friend.” She glances back at the tombstone. “His plan didn’t go the way he wanted and he did the only thing left he knew to do. Dyson will be honored, he will be remembered, and he will always be loved.” She glances back at
me, waiting a moment before she continues, “Recognize the things you can change, Flint, and don’t hold on to the things you can’t.”

  A part of me believes her, but another part of me will always grieve him, will always blame myself.

  Evo grips my shoulder. “C’mon,” he says.

  We’re having a Pack run to honor our fallen Pack mates. Irene has agreed to join the Pack and has already made the arrangements. Kenna and Evo hold no blame to her. They adore her and respect her sacrifice to save their child and Pack, even if that wasn’t her original plan.

  Kelsey and Jeremy have returned. At first, they were angry, and then their anger turned to anguish. They’ve been sticking to the inside of their quarters for a few days, grieving together and accepting what has happened in their absence.

  A howl sounds in the distance and Irene squeezes my hand. She takes off her dress and begins to shift. The most stunning brown fur sprouts from her skin before a wolf stands in her place. Her wolf rubs against my leg, a gesture of comfort, before she takes off after our Pack.

  I look back at Dyson’s etched face one last time, bend down, and run my fingers over it. “I love you,” I whisper to him.

  Where ever he is, if he’s even listening anymore, I hope to see him again someday.

  Epilogue

  Kelsey Rylend

  Jeremy glances at the stick, trying to decipher the lines and what they mean.

  I curse, impatient with his idiocy. “I’m pregnant,” I blurt before he can discover for himself.

  He glances up at me, a brilliant and rare smile lifting his cheeks, and lifts me into the air. We’ve been trying for years and the day has finally come. It feels so surreal. I don’t know if I should cry or celebrate . . . or both.

  He twirls me once, my long red hair covering our faces, and I let out a squeal of excitement.

  “We’re going to be parents,” he says, holding me close in his arms.

  He sets me on my feet and drops to his knees, placing his cheek against my stomach. “Hi, baby,” he coos to the fetus growing inside my womb. Being around Cole has made him soft.

  I place my hands on my hips, fully aware I’m ruining the moment. “You know he . . . she . . .,” I pause, frowning, “it can’t hear you yet, right?”

  He lifts his head and smiles at me anyway. This man was made for me.

  “I’m going to be a father,” he whispers.

  Flint Rockland

  It’s midsummer, a few months since the passing of my friend. My mate is running her errands—she went to visit Kat at her shop, picking up remedies to help Cole sleep at night. She’s fitting in nicely in the Pack—a great addition.

  I sit by the water with Kenna and Bre. Evo, Ben, Jeremy, and Cole are in the backyard. They’re doing everything they can to wear Cole out in hopes he’ll take a little nap this afternoon.

  Romaine had asked Irene if he could tag along to the shop. Irene had refused, for which I’m grateful. An unmated male around my female wasn’t something I was ready to deal with yet.

  The kid is adorable, but his cries in the middle of the night can be heard in mine and Irene’s quarters. I hold great sympathy for his tired parents.

  Romaine and Victoria are running patrol, while Kelsey and Darla mess around in the kitchen concocting who knows what. Food experiments have been their hobby lately, the Pack being the guinea pigs and unwilling taste-testers.

  Bre leans against one of my shoulders while Kenna leans against the other. We sit quietly, content with the peace. The day is hot and the bugs are bothersome. We swat at them every now and again, hoping to stave them off, but they’re persistent.

  The silence stretches until I feel a wetness dripping down my arm. I squirm, trying to get the sleeping Kenna off. She and Bre both startle and look around. It would seem they were both asleep.

  “What?” Kenna asks, eyes wide in panic. “Is the baby okay?”

  “You were drooling down my arm,” I grumble, trying to wipe it off with my shorts.

  Bre sighs next to me and turns back to the water.

  “Shit,” Kenna says, wiping the side of her mouth with the back of her hand. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  I eye her out of the corner of my eye, pretending offense. She shoves my shoulder, a smile spreading over her tired face.

  “So, what now?” Bre asks in a quiet voice.

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  “You gonna have kids some day?” Her eyes turn back to mine.

  My shoulders rise and fall. “Maybe. We haven’t really talked about it.”

  She nods her head.

  Kenna leans forward and looks at Bre. “What about you and Ben?”

  She mimics my shrug but smiles at the thought. “I wouldn’t mind seeing a few miniature Bens running around.”

  I scoff. “That’s exactly what we need. Several Ben mini-Bres barking orders.”

  Kenna giggles while fingering a small rock. “Can you imagine what they’ll be like once they talk? All the demands a little person could ask for. It’ll be funny as hell, watching Ben trying to gather his pups and make them listen.”

  Bre joins her giggles. “Yeah, it would.”

  The girls sigh dreamily while I fantasize about what it’d be like to hold my child for the first time. To be a part of growing a tiny baby, smelling the top of its head, hearing him or her call me daddy. A smile spreads across my face. I didn’t think I’d ever get this, let alone want it. But now that I have the opportunity, new possibilities are making me see the light. I want more. I want a family.

  Irene Scott

  I drum my fingers on the counter of Lunaire, waiting for Kat to come back in from taking out the trash. Right when I came through the front door, she asked me to man the counter while she took the trash out to the alley. I agreed, but I knew she was using this time to avoid me, knowing what I came here for.

  She enters the store through the back door and walks behind the counter. No customers are in, which is normal for this hour of the day.

  Giving me a perky smile, she asks, “What’s up?”

  I raise an eyebrow and fully stand up, my drumming fingers dropping to my side. “I need a few herbs for Cole. He isn’t sleeping. Do you have anything for that?”

  She continues her smile while holding up a finger. “I have just the thing.”

  Walking around the counter, she heads to the herbal shelf. Knowing exactly what she’s going for, she carefully picks up the tiny glass bottle and it clinks against its contained neighboring herbs. She turns and places it in my hand. The label is in French, a language I don’t understand.

  “This will do the trick?” I ask, turning the small bottle over and examining its purple contents.

  “Yep,” she says while heading to the register.

  I give her the bottle and she rings it up. She tells me the total and I grab the wad of cash from my pocket and hand it over.

  “What are you?” I ask bluntly.

  She cringes before shutting the drawer with a sigh and turns to face me. “I knew that question was coming,” she mumbles.

  I take the small bag she had placed the herbs in. “Is it why the Coven disowned you?”

  “Yes. Sort of. Not really. Actually—” She scratches her neck. “I shouldn’t really discuss it.” Her hands move to the hem of her black shirt, fumbling with the end.

  I feel like she’s a broken record, repeating the same answers she did that night a few months ago. I thought the space would have helped her feel more inclined to tell me, but it would seem I’m wrong in my assessment.

  My jaw ticks as my patience wears thin. I stand in silence for a few moments before lowering my voice. “What are you, Kat?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  I tilt my head back, stare at the ceiling, and rub my neck with my free hand. “Alright,” I say, resigning to the fact that maybe there’s a reason. I glance back at her. “Can I ask one more question?”

  Her eyes narrow. “I can’t promise an answer
.”

  I nod. “Are you more than a witch?”

  Her body remains still as she weighs her options of trusting me or sending me on my way. Finally, she answers, “Yes.”

  I nod again, satisfied to have some kind of answer.

  “Someday—” I begin.

  “Someday I’ll tell you.” She slowly closes her eyes, a silent promise. “When it’s safe.”

  I eye her suspiciously, now suddenly worried for my friend’s safety.

  “That’ll have to do for now,” I mumble. I turn to leave before stopping in my tracks.

  “Ira?” Kat calls.

  I turn my body toward hers but keep my eyes lowered to the ground. “Flint told me something a few weeks ago,” I begin.

  “Okay . . .” Kat says, confusion dipping her tone.

  “He said,” I pause. “He said he saw Dyson after he was dead.”

  Kat remains silent and I glance up at her. Her eyes hold so much fright.

  “What do you mean?” she asks, her voice so quiet it was almost impossible to hear.

  “Back during the battle . . . there was a moment where he was losing his fight. He said Dyson came but he wasn’t whole.” I scratch my chin. “What was the word he used,” I ponder aloud.

  My eyes flicker back to Kat and I see her gulp. “A shade?”

  The lightbulb goes off and my eyebrows flicker up for a split second. “That’s the one. Do you know anything about that?”

  She hesitates, her mouth opens and closes. Finally, she says, “Do you remember the story around the bonfire?” I nod my head. “Shades don’t live on this realm. They shouldn’t be able to cross over . . . not anymore.”

  Her eyes flicker back and forth across the glass counter, seeing nothing as she frantically works through her mind.