“No.”
Its beady, black eyes turned opaque. The bird shot as rigid as a statue and toppled backward.
I shoved open the door and rushed around the car, but it was too late. The cockatrice was dead. It had died the second it saw its own reflection in the mirror.
“What’s all the ruckus?”
“Really?” I spun on Brum. “Now you show up?”
He ambled toward me, hesitating by the nest. “Heard your caterwaulin’ over the TV.”
“Mr. Brum.” I dug deep for the tattered shreds of my professionalism as I stood with the dead cockatrice cradled in my arms. Tears leaked down my cheeks, but that was from the smell, not sentimentality. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but Ringo—”
“Whee-doggie,” the farmer crowed as he lifted a rock. “Would you look at that? Ten eggs. Ten.”
“Eggs?” I glanced at the dead bird. “But Ringo is—”
“Damn shame.” He spared a frown for the bird. “Least now I know why he wasn’t laying before. Been trying to squeeze eggs out of him for two years. No one told me they had to be free range.”
The rumble of Shaw’s engine made my shoulders sag with relief. Brum didn’t even notice.
I extended my arms toward him. “What should I do with the, uh, remains?”
“Leave ’em there.” He waved a hand. “I’ll dress ’im for dinner later.”
My mouth fell open. “You’re going to eat it?”
The stink almost curled my nose hairs, and this guy was going to fry it up and put it in his mouth?
Brum scratched behind his ear. “What else would I do with it?”
“I—” I had no idea. “Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Brum.”
Brum didn’t respond. He knelt in front of that nest and kissed each egg as he lifted it as though they were made of gold.
Heck. For all I knew, they were filled with twenty-four karat yolks.
From the safety of his truck, Shaw hammered the wheel with his palm while a grin split his face. But I wasn’t laughing. I smelled like the devil’s armpit thanks to my cuddle with the cockatrice, and I was ready to go home.
I settled the limp body on the ground and got in my car before something worse happened.
My phone was blaring rock music before I shut the door. I grimaced as I answered it. “Yes?”
Shaw chuckled in my ear. “Why did the—?”
“—incubus call me with a chicken joke if he expected to get lucky tonight? Good question.”
The incubus cleared his throat and ended the call. I stomped on the gas and got the hell off Brum’s property. It wasn’t until after I pulled up to my apartment that I remembered the reward.
I had been so shocked by Ringo’s ignoble end, it hadn’t crossed my mind to ask Brum about the bounty on the cockatrice.
Killing it had probably voided the offer. Then again, he wouldn’t have a clutch of cockatrice eggs if Ringo hadn’t gone wandering in the first place, and they might have been stolen or eaten if not for me.
Still. Maybe I was better off not reminding Brum of my role in the discovery of the eggs or the demise of the father—mother?—considering how ecstatic he had been kneeling in the dirt. I had all but seen the dollar signs flashing in his eyes, and I had nothing but lint to offer him if he decided to spin the reward into a bill for damages. Not even the pack would reimburse him once they found out the bird’s death was my fault.
Oh well. I might not have a check burning a hole in my pocket, but there was a smokin’-hot incubus upstairs waiting for me, and that was kind of the same thing.
A Stone’s Throw Christmas
Chapter 1
As I polished off my bottle of water, the tingle of awareness that was the mate bond danced over my skin, and I angled my chair toward the door. I was capping the empty and tossing it into the recycling bin when Graeson strolled into his office to find me sitting behind his desk. He spotted me, having known I was here all along, and leaned his shoulder against the frame, crossing his sleekly muscled arms over a chest that did sinful things to his plain white T-shirt. Thick black bands of ink encircled his wrists, and towering forests sprouted from them to grow up his forearms. I loved those tattoos. Almost as much as the man wearing them.
He cocked his head, no doubt sensing my turmoil. “Go for a run?”
He made it a simple request, one I could deny. Not that I ever had. Not after I understood what the red silk blindfold unfurling from his pocket meant. At least not until today.
“We need to talk.” I smoothed the wrinkled paper I’d been carrying in my pocket for a week over his desk, careful to keep it face-down. “This is important.”
“This is too.” The material made a soft sigh as he pulled the length through his fingers. “Run with me.”
All too eager for any reason to avoid this conversation for a while longer, I refolded the paper and tucked it back in my pocket for the next time I summoned enough courage to confront him. “Okay.”
A warg asking his mate to go for a run in the woods all but cues the Barry White music among wargs, and I swear the whole pack hears the tune blasting through the pack bond. Or maybe it’s the pheromones Graeson throws off when he gets in these moods messing with my head. I can get drunk on the smell of him, and I have no plans to battle that addiction.
“You haven’t moved,” he pointed out, low growl rising up the back of his throat.
That raw edge, tempered with need, raised hairs down my nape. It was the husky voice he used when I imagined him playing Big Bad to my Little Red. Why else the crimson blindfold?
I rose and circled the desk, and a crooked smile hooked up one corner of his mouth, like I had given him a gift by agreeing to play the game when I got the prize no matter who we named the winner.
He offered me the blindfold. “You know the rules.”
“I do.” An answering grin creased my cheeks. “I reach the creek first, and I win. You reach the creek first, and I also win.”
Amused by my summation, he nodded that I had the right of it.
“Can I bribe you for a five second head start?” Not that I needed one. Win or lose, this was my favorite game now too.
“Agent Ellis,” he rumbled. “You are delightfully corrupt.”
“Long term exposure to wargs.” I shrugged. “There are pamphlets on it and everything. They hand them out in meetings to protect innocent fae souls, such as myself, from falling victim to the wild lusts of wargs.”
A flicker of uncertainty tightened the skin around his eyes, and I read the worry there with the ease of someone lucky enough to know their mate from the inside out—no psychic bond required.
“Work is fine.” Oh, the pamphlets were real. Fae and wargs were not meant to mate. But my soul had never been innocent. If anything, Graeson had given me the redemption I had given up hope of earning. “I’m teasing.”
“You and I are a cautionary tale.” He straightened, uncrossing his arms and curving his hands around my hips. “I don’t want you to start believing the propaganda.”
I stiffened in his hold, my stomach tightening. “You think I’m that gullible?”
“No.” He lowered his voice. “But the job was your life for a lot of years before me, and I don’t want you to have to choose.”
Unspoken was his fear I might choose the badge, my job as a special agent with the Earthen Conclave, over the pack. Over him.
Silly wolf.
As if I would give up on the best thing in my life without a fight. As if I would give up the man who owned my soul period. Cord Graeson was mine. I was a little bit wolf too these days, thanks to my time with the pack, and there was nowhere he could run that I couldn’t find him should he ever get noble on me and push me away for my own good.
Despite his blind spot where our mating was concerned, Graeson was a smart man, and he must have read the stubborn refusal to give up either my man or my career in my expression, because he nodded once and then the sultry grin resurfaced.
“Blindfold?�
�� I held out my hand, forcing us back on track.
He draped it over my palm, the silk cool and the color that of fresh blood. “I’ll count to one hundred.”
I snorted, well aware of how fast he counted, like the beats of my heart when it fluttered wild against my ribcage.
Exiting what once was a rental office for the Stone’s Throw RV park, property the Lorimar pack called home, I took the short hall and stepped out of the building into the darkened parking lot. A chill December wind promising snow stirred long strands of blond hair into my eyes. I hadn’t realized the hour. I had procrastinated longer than I thought. Gravel crunched underfoot as I knotted the blindfold behind my head. I drew on my wolf aspect, fae magic that gave me limited warg abilities, and set off at a trot. A few of the pack members catcalled as I passed. They recognized the game and wouldn’t interrupt us while we played.
Putting our sex life out on display had left me unable to meet the gazes of the pack members for days afterward when I first came to Stone’s Throw to be mate to the alpha, becoming alpha in turn. But I was adjusting my fae sensibilities to life among folk who spent as much of their time naked as clothed or furry.
Plus, as Graeson had explained to me, the simple fact was it kept our people happy. The pack structure gave them a sense of belonging, and our public displays of affection settled their wolves. All that stability kept them calm and made them feel safe.
Leaves crinkled under my heels as I traded the parking lot for the woods. The scents of fir and pine filled my lungs, crisp and welcome. Under that, the pungent reek of gasoline made my nose twitch. I pondered the source of that caustic stink so deep in our woods, but the pack was expanding, and generators were common out here to supply electricity to the smaller campsites.
A shiver rippled across my skin, the impression of unseen eyes—thanks to the blindfold—watching me. Not pack, those I sensed as mental shadows through the pack bond. The Stoners might be to blame. They weren’t ours, not really. Named after the RV park, the Stoners were a small army of wargs cobbled together from other packs. They had come by twos and threes to volunteer as soldiers in the war with Faerie that crept nearer with every day and every broken treaty. They were more curious about me than was wise at times. I didn’t know them all, and I knew none of them as well as I should have considering the sacrifice they were willing to make to help keep my loved ones safe.
The mate bond sizzled to life, a hot spike of intent, warning me Graeson was in close proximity.
The stinging on my nape increased, and my gut tightened until I covered my abdomen with both hands. What if…? I terminated the thought before it completed.
Charybdis was dead.
I killed him.
Not before he murdered Graeson’s little sister, but soon after. He would claim no more victims, ruin no more lives. He was gone, but we were still here. We had survived, and I refused to let his dark shadow eclipse the rest of our lives.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I kept pushing. Less than thirty seconds later, I heard booted feet hitting the ground in an easy trot that mirrored mine. And then more footsteps. Lighter ones. And I smelled wolf. No, wolves. Familiar ones. Their presence ought to comfort and yet… Why had Graeson invited them along? And it must be his doing. Hadn’t I just been thinking how they never intruded on our private time? Suspicion bloomed in the back of my mind, the corner his presence occupied, and I wondered what my mate had gotten up to this time.
I kept up my easy lope until I reached what should have been a small clearing based on the map of the property in my head, but the low hum of a generator buzzed louder here, and the gasoline smell overpowered my senses until I sneezed. Skin pebbling, I sensed more bodies here, watching me from the trees. A slight breeze stirred, and a whiff of cinnamon and nutmeg teased my nose. What in the world…?
Giving up the game as a loss, I slowed to a walk, waiting on someone to illuminate me. I had been herded here, I realized. Wolves are sneaky that way. I reached up to tug down the blindfold and demand answers when Graeson’s strong arms encircled me from behind, hauling me back against his chest.
“Is this some new kink of yours?” I drew on the mate bond, projecting my thoughts to keep our conversation private.
He lowered one hand until his fingers fanned across my abdomen and pressed, pinning hips tight against my backside, and I forgot how to breathe for fear he had figured out my secret.
“I don’t share.” He nuzzled me, a hint of wolf in his voice. “You’re all mine, Ellis.”
Relief swept through me in swirling eddies that left me dizzy. “Why is the pack gathered here?”
“They wanted to be part of the surprise,” he explained in a reasonable tone that gave away nothing.
A trill of alarm zinged through me, and I covered his hand with mine. “And what is the surprise?”
“Are we ready?” he called out loud, telling me two things. He wanted to include everyone in what was about to happen, and that not everyone present was pack. Otherwise, he could have used the pack’s mental bond to convey the same message without words.
“Yes,” Dell’s voice rang out, loud and clear. “Let’s do this.”
The crackle of electricity sizzled along my nerves.
A booming cheer rose and then fell silent. A few voices yelled, “Boo.”
“False alarm, people.” Dell cursed, and I heard rattling. “Damn it. Let go.”
“Don’t plug that in there,” Isaac warned her. “No. Stop. Give me that.”
“That’s what she said,” Nathalie chuckled off to my left, and Aisha joined in the laugh.
“It’ll fit,” Dell snapped back. “I’ll make it fit.”
More laughter peppered the air, and Aisha snarked, “That’s what he said.”
“Graeson?” I reached for his mind. “On a scale of one to run for your life, how worried should I be right now?”
He didn’t get a chance to answer.
“Got it,” Dell crowed. “Assume the position.”
I held up a hand to quiet the snickering. “Don’t say it.”
“Spoilsport,” Nathalie and Aisha grumped in tandem.
Graeson firmed his hold on me, his thumb smoothing over my navel, sending frissons of pleasure swooping straight through my abdomen. “Ready?”
I breathed out. “Sure.”
“Such enthusiasm.” His teeth grazed the side of my neck. “We’ll have to do something about that.”
His arms vanished from around me, and his fingertips brushed my temples as he shoved the blindfold down around my throat. My eyes focused in the dark just as Dell jammed the ends of two extension cords together. Light and music flooded the area, and I stumbled back into Graeson while I acclimated to the sensory onslaught.
Acting the part of conductor, Dell raced to a gathering of pack members—on two legs and four—and proceeded to guide them through an offbeat rendition of a Christmas song familiar enough I could hum along, though I had never learned the words. One part wolf howl and one part human voice, the caroling was oddly beautiful, and the first joyful tears had slipped over my cheeks before I could wipe them dry.
Before us, a lush fir tree had been draped in lights and shiny garland. Ornaments of all shapes and sizes hung from the limbs, and a glowing star capped the top. Beneath it, sprawling for several yards in all directions, was a mountain of gifts wrapped in shiny paper and topped with metallic bows.
“What is all this?” I wondered, delight spiraling through me. “I thought you guys were lighting the tree next week.”
“Turns out Job has a gig out of town that week, so we bumped up the celebration.”
Across the clearing, Haden waved over Graeson. After pressing a kiss to my temple, he excused himself with a promise to return in a moment, leaving me to absorb the glittering splendor surrounding me.
Christmas was a holiday the pack celebrated. Most fae, including my family, did not. Graeson explained when I asked that giving presents wasn’t required. But, being the alpha fema
le, I expected to receive more than a token few. That had decided me. I ended up buying a simple gift for each pack member as a way of honoring them and their beliefs, and I spotted my teal and silver wrapping paper on the pile from here. So, while I had expected to attend the ceremony, I hadn’t anticipated being the center of the production.
“Here you go, coz.” Isaac pressed a mug warm with hot chai latte into my hand.
“You helped?” The mild surprise in my tone sent his gaze skittering toward Dell. “Ah. I see.”
Our beta had Isaac wrapped around her little finger. Several times if his conflicted expression was any indication. I got the feeling he knew he was caught, but he hadn’t decided if he liked being trapped.
“The pack wanted to include you in their celebration. It’s tradition for the alpha to flip the switch, but Graeson passed on the honor so that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable or obligated to participate.” His attention never strayed from Dell, who had bent over to untangle a strand of lights, presenting us with a view straight down her shirt. When he spoke again, it sounded like he had gargled with glass shards this morning. “I assured him that wouldn’t be an issue. Mom raised us to respect other cultures and their traditions.”
“Although other manners she taught seem to have been forgotten.” I indicated Dell and her ample cleavage with my chin. “Are you going to tell her, or am I?”
“You do it.” He drank in her curves, undisguised longing clear on his features. “I’m not that strong.”
Before I could ruin Isaac’s fun, Dell finished finessing the snarl of cord and straightened. Noticing she was the focus of our attention, she smoothed her shirt down then bounded over to shimmy between Isaac and me. The effect of her wiggling on my cousin prompted a reaction I never wanted to see on a male relation again.
“What do you think?” She wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “There were more lights, but then Zed mentioned smelling smoke, and Isaac started cursing and unplugging strands.”
Thrown to the Wolves (Gemini Series) Page 10