by Dean Murray
Adri Paige still feels like she and Alec Graves are meant to be together, but that requires she get past what happened in Minnesota. Alec's actions cost her the most important people in her life, and that's something she couldn't forget even if she wanted to.
If it was just up to Adri she would stay isolated and nurse her wounds, but the Coun'hij are marshaling their forces for another blow against the Resistance, and without her help more of her friends will die.
Alec Graves finally has the power to overthrow the tyrants who've been oppressing the North American shape shifters for hundreds of years, but all it will take is a single misstep to destroy everything he's been working towards—including what's left of his relationship with Adri.
His father's reach extends further than anyone in the Resistance realizes and this time Kaleb is targeting Alec and Adri directly.
Burned
by Dean Murray
Copyright 2014 by Dean Murray
Also by Dean Murray:
The Reflections Series
Broken (free)
Torn (free if you sign up for Dean's Mailing List)
Splintered
Intrusion
Trapped
Forsaken
Riven
Driven
Lost
Marked
The Greater Darkness (Writing as Eldon Murphy) (free)
A Darkness Mirrored (Writing as Eldon Murphy)
The Dark Reflections Series
Bound
Hunted
Ambushed
Shattered
Burned
The Awakening
Reborn
Immortal
Endless
The Legacy
The Society (Available Summer 2015)
The Destroyer (Available Summer 2015)
The Founder (Available Winter 2015)
The Desolation (Available Winter 2015)
The Guadel Chronicles
Frozen Prospects (free)
Thawed Fortunes (free if you sign up for Dean's Mailing List)
Brittle Bonds
Shattered Ties
Prologue
Kaleb Graves
Three miles off of the Strip
Las Vegas, Nevada
Kaleb hated Las Vegas—had for decades—and his current surroundings weren't doing anything to put him at ease. The strip club his contact had chosen for the meet was the kind of exclusive place that had a cover charge measured in hundred-dollar bills.
That was good because it meant that there wouldn't be many people around to eavesdrop, but the club was also the perfect metaphor for the city. Needlessly ostentatious, and completely without purpose other than to separate fools from their money.
If it had been up to him, he never would have set foot inside the city boundaries again, but he was depressingly certain that he would end up paying the City of Sin countless additional visits over the next century. Being the leader of one of the two biggest shape shifter packs in North America and the de facto head of the Coun'hij—the ruling body that kept all of the wolves from going their separate ways—meant that he had an incredible amount of power, but he wasn't as free to do whatever he wanted as he would have liked the rest of the world to believe.
When it came to the man he'd flown more than a hundred miles to see, that was even more the case than normal. As evidenced by the fact that Kaleb's contact was late—again.
Kaleb looked at his watch—a six-thousand-dollar Rolex—for the third time in as many minutes and told himself that he would leave if his contact didn't walk through the doors within the next four minutes. There were appearances to maintain, after all. When you got right down to it, an uncomfortable amount of Kaleb's power rested on nothing more than appearances—especially after his son had made off with billions of dollars' worth of liquid assets.
Kaleb still wasn't poor—not even close—but losing that much money had put him in a definite liquidity bind. His people, Donovan especially, were in the process of selling off some of the hard assets that the Graves line had acquired over the centuries, but it was one more symptom of the state of affairs since Alec and his friends had defected.
Kaleb was low on funds, low on able bodies to throw into the war he'd started on the US-Mexican border, and suddenly being hounded by more enemies—both within the Coun'hij and without—than he'd had to deal with in more than a decade.
Less than three seconds before Kaleb was going to stand up and walk out of the club, Puppeteer walked through the door followed by two skinny, malnourished men in their fifties.
"What's the matter, Graves? Is this not your kind of place? I've heard nothing but good things about the performers here…"
"You're late."
There were a lot of other things that Kaleb would have liked to add, but he wasn't fooled by the feeble appearance of Puppeteer's bodyguards. It was standard practice for the members of the Coun'hij to conduct meetings via electronic means, but Puppeteer generally insisted on face-to-face meets. He also ignored the tradition of not bringing guards to the meetings. Kaleb had never bothered airing his dissatisfaction with that particular habit. The rule was in place for a good reason—so that they wouldn't have leaks getting back to the rebellion—but Puppeteer's guards weren't going to leak anything because despite their appearances they weren't men.
Kaleb was aware that some of the members of the Coun'hij were considering bringing bodyguards of their own to these kinds of meets, but not him. It wouldn't have done any good. No two of his people could have possibly come out on top in a fight against the seven-foot-tall towers of bone and muscle that the werewolves would become at a single silent command from Puppeteer.
Brandon Worthingfield probably could have taken one werewolf by himself, but that still would have left the problem of the second werewolf. Besides, Brandon was the last person Kaleb wanted close to the other members of the Coun'hij. Brandon was best kept as far as possible away from the real power in their world.
That wouldn't work indefinitely, but Brandon was still young enough that Kaleb had mostly been able to keep him distracted with the trappings of power. Eventually Brandon would wise up, but that was a problem for another day.
Kaleb spared a moment to once again run through his future plans for Puppeteer. The other man was incredibly slippery when it came to staying off of the grid for a man approaching two hundred. Some of the other members of the inner circle showed up on video feeds throughout the country as often as every week or two, but not Puppeteer.
Each and every time Kaleb met with Puppeteer he risked his own life, but Kaleb was capable of being patient and running risks. Bringing guards—even guards who stayed out of sight—would just result in Puppeteer bringing along more of his enslaved werewolves, or something even worse. No, the answer was to come to each meeting completely vulnerable right up until the day when Kaleb decided it was time to kill Puppeteer. When that day arrived, Kaleb would have Brandon and a dozen other hybrids waiting to ambush Puppeteer.
The resulting fight would be quick, bloody, and solve one of Kaleb's problems at the same time it spawned a dozen more. His life sometimes felt like nothing more than an extended balancing act, one with stakes that most of the rest of the world couldn't even begin to understand.
The series of thoughts running through Kaleb's mind had taken only seconds, but he never broke eye contact with Puppeteer during that time. Dominance was about more than just who could beat the other person to a pulp. It was a lesson that some hybrids never learned, but it was one of the things that had allowed Kaleb to rise to the pinnacle of power inside of the Coun'hij in record time once he finally decided to throw his lot in with them rather than continuing to fight the inevitable.
Puppeteer gamely refused to drop his eyes, but Kaleb could sen
se that the other man was beginning to grow nervous. Someone like Puppeteer was nearly always the most dangerous person in any given room. He was used to having everyone around him cower in some way or another as they acknowledged that fact. It did more than just make him uneasy when someone refused to back down, it made him worry that he was overlooking something—something important.
Eventually he would decide that Kaleb was bluffing, that Kaleb was one of those rare hybrids who were able to lie with their scent and pulse as well as just with their voice, but Puppeteer apparently wasn't quite to that point yet—not today.
Kaleb saw Puppeteer's eyes go the tiniest bit distant as the other man checked to make sure that both of his bodyguards were still there and still under his control. It was a reflexive action, one that Puppeteer did hundreds of times per day. Given that he'd compelled two of the most dangerous creatures on earth to wait on him hand and foot, it was an understandable habit to develop, but Kaleb wasn't in the mood to be understanding.
Kaleb took a single step forward as though planning on rushing Puppeteer, but then adjusted his course at the last instant to take him out around Puppeteer and his minions. Puppeteer redeployed his bodyguards, tiny old bodies that looked like they were only weeks away from death, so that they were positioned to make sure that Kaleb wouldn't be able to get his hands on Puppeteer. It was exactly the reaction Kaleb had been hoping for.
Puppeteer let him get almost to the door before sending out a flare of power. The energy danced across Kaleb's arms like a thousand tiny insects, demanding that he turn around and address Puppeteer, but as powerful as Puppeteer was, he wasn't powerful enough to compel Kaleb with nothing more than a display of strength. A fact that doubtlessly frustrated Puppeteer to no end.
"Where are you going, Graves?"
"I'm leaving. You are the one who called me here. This meeting was your idea—your demand, really. I have better things to do than stand here and exchange glares with you. The next time you feel like taking in some girls, do me a favor and don't call me to accompany you. I have much better things to be doing."
The entire exchange had taken place in a tone that was only barely into what would be the audible range for humans. The two beasts behind Puppeteer probably heard everything that had been said, but the club employee, a distinguished-looking man in a suit, didn't seem to have heard any of it.
Then again, he didn't have to have heard any of it to know that Kaleb and Puppeteer were only heartbeats away from attacking each other. The body language between the four patrons had been strong enough that nothing else was necessary for someone who made his living at a place like this. The strip club might be a high-class kind of joint, but any time you mixed alcohol and beautiful women of the sort who took their clothes off for a living, you were asking for violence.
"Can I have drinks brought out to you two gentlemen? Amber is just about to start her set—you're not going to want to miss her…"
Kaleb didn't look away from Puppeteer. He'd already taken the measure of the club employee. The man was fit, but he was used to dealing with the club's clientele when they arrived—generally sober and compliant. He wasn't the kind of man to throw himself into a fight—not even a fight where he got the first hit against someone with their back turned to him. He would call in the club's bouncers and then steer clear of the resulting mayhem.
It was still a risk. Even normally mild-mannered men could react unexpectedly if pushed far enough, but Kaleb had run—and would run—much worse risks before reaching his end game. He left his back to the employee and waited for Puppeteer to break.
It took several seconds, but Puppeteer finally took advantage of the distraction and broke eye contact to address the human.
"A drink would be good, but there's no need to have it brought out—we'll go on inside to the main area. I have news to share with my friend here."
Kaleb didn't have any desire to go inside to the flashing lights and loud music, but he nodded. "As long as you're actually ready to talk."
Less than a minute later the two of them were seated at a table with the two werewolves seated a short distance away. Under other circumstances Kaleb probably would have faced the stage just so as not to stand out, but not this time. There was no need, not with how out of place the two werewolves looked—even in human form. They never looked at the stage once, instead looking at Puppeteer and Kaleb with unsettling, unblinking eyes. Besides, Kaleb was willing to occasionally turn his back to unarmed humans, but he wasn't in the habit of doing the same kind of thing to werewolves.
"Don't you want to take in the show? Given how much money you must have lost when young Alec ran off, it can't have been easy to pay the cover charge to get in here. You might as well get your money's worth."
Kaleb forced his face not to respond to the jab. That part was easy. Controlling his body temperature, blood flow, and heartbeat was quite a bit more difficult. He didn't manage it as well as he normally did, but for once their surroundings proved to be an advantage. Even shape shifter hearing struggled to pick out the sound of a single heartbeat when surrounded by the thumping base washing over them.
The truth was that Puppeteer didn't have any idea how much money Alec had made off with. Given that Kaleb's son had managed to escape capture for so long, it wasn't a huge leap to assume that he'd gotten away with something, but Puppeteer was fishing. He wanted some sign of just how weakened Kaleb was at that moment.
"If you have something to say, then say it. I have a number of other things that I should be spending my time on right now."
"You never have been any fun, Graves. I keep inviting you here to the city that never sleeps in the hope that you'll loosen up, but you always manage to disappoint me."
"I don't have time to loosen up, and you know it. Neither of us do—not given the stakes that we are playing for. Now, what do you want?"
It was a not-so-subtle reminder of the purpose that bound them together. Puppeteer looked for a moment like he wanted to argue the point, but the truth was that they couldn't afford anything other than constant vigilance, not with the list of enemies currently gunning for both of them.
"After our most recent series of losses, you're pack is far and away the largest single pool of manpower in our organization. I'm going to need you to loan me some people."
"Absolutely not. You know our deal. You control the less savory of our assets and I have carte blanche when it comes to when and where my people are used. I'm not going to let you waste members of my pack the way you've wasted others of our kind over the years."
"You can monitor them—you can be a full partner as far as the operation goes, even. There will be plenty of glory to go around after this one."
The offer was unusual enough to make Kaleb pause. "What do you have in the works?"
"You remember that failed rescue attempt that your son led against the group we had escorting Agony north?"
"Of course I do. We lost almost two dozen people in that operation, an operation you and your agent assured us we couldn't lose."
"There's only so much I can anticipate, Graves. It was your people who were supposed be our insurance policy. You were the one who told us that Brandon was more than capable of defeating any three hybrids."
It was all that Kaleb could do not to flinch at the reminder. Those had been his exact words, which was embarrassing because it had indeed been a group of three hybrids that had stopped Brandon.
"I stand by my words. Brandon went up against two hybrids armed with swords from the time of the monarchy, and Agony of all people. Despite that, he managed to kill Agony single-handedly. It would have only been a matter of time before the other two would have joined that traitor in death if not for the presence of a fourth combatant who shot Brandon several times before he managed to get away."
The two of them stared at each other for several seconds before both breaking away at the same time. There had been plenty of dishonor to go around when it came to that particular operation.
; Kaleb let the silence stretch back out for a while, but when it became apparent that Puppeteer wasn't going to say anything else without being prompted, he took the bait.
"How does your operation tie back to the business with Agony?"
"I'm going to use the same resource. The pieces are already all lined up; we just need the right push to knock them over. I can't make that happen with just my resources though—not without risking the other side being able to track me down—and that would be foolish at this juncture, even for a prize like bringing your son down."
"Yes, heaven forbid you run the same risks that the rest of us run on a daily basis."
"It's not the same and you know it. You're a target, but everyone knows that you dying would only slow down our plans slightly. I, on the other hand, am the last member of our little group that any member of the rebellion would gladly sign their life away to kill."
Kaleb leaned back in his chair. "I need more details before I can commit."
"No, not here, not now. Our last operation went too far off of the rails not to have been compromised on your end."
"I told you already. Leaking the information to Samantha was the only way to be sure that Alec would show up and hit the convoy where we wanted it to be hit."
"Maybe, but it appears that your beloved wife has much deeper ties with the rebellion than any of us have been led to believe. She needs to be put down."
Kaleb's knuckles had gone white, but for once he didn't have to worry about hiding his true feelings. "If you ever even consider acting on that little suggestion of yours, I'll see you dead. Samantha serves a necessary purpose inside of my pack—a purpose that is all the more vital now that Alec isn't serving as a counter balance to Brandon. Samantha is a lightning rod for all of the discontent inside of the pack—if she were dead it wouldn't make the whispers go away, they would just go underground where I couldn't monitor them anymore."
"So you say. I'm beginning to doubt our little arrangement, Graves. So far I haven't said anything to our…employer to indicate that things with your son are as serious as they actually are, but being the one to come clean about that little problem would go a long way toward cleaning the ledger where my past transgressions are concerned."