My eyes go wide. There's a man pushing a manual lawnmower outside, his shirt off, looking insanely hot. If he were in an ad, I'd buy whatever they were pushing without thinking twice. The Asian lady walks into view and calls to him, and the man straightens, releasing the mower, and turns, passing his arm over his forehead. The lady points at the house, and then the man nods. Blake, I realize. Is he the gardener? The owner? Either way, he stalks toward the back of the house, and I take a deep breath. Hot man incoming. Act professional. Act cool!
Even as my pulse begins to race, I think of Alexander. That cool, calm control of his. It's as if my mind is currently hardwired to think of him whenever I get all tingly and squirmy.
The door opens and Blake steps in. The first thing I notice is the wedding ring on his hand, and how rough and athletic he is. Where Alexander is all sophisticated cool, this man is wild and fierce. His eyes smolder as he examines me, and I almost instinctively feel my mouth go dry. These shifters. They're too much!
"Mr. Blake?" My voice is tight. I cough and try to sound more natural. "My name is Myra Cole. I'm visiting from Boston. Helen from the Gypsy Cafe gave me your name?"
"Hello, Ms. Cole." His voice is like low, rumbling thunder. Goodness. What's a girl to do? "Any friend of Helen's is welcome. How can I help you?"
"Well, I wouldn't necessarily say we're friends, but she was very generous. I - well. There's no easy way to put this. Um. Can you help me have a chat with Aurion?"
His eyes go wide, and for a moment I think he's going to laugh. "Aurion? The leader of the cairn?"
I nod quickly and give him an apologetic smile. "I know he's apparently not the friendliest person in the world, but I really, really need to ask him some questions."
Blake rubs at his jaw, considering. "And why's that?"
I gulp. Here goes. "I'm a reporter from the Boston Globe. I'm doing a profile on a new mayoral candidate. Alexander Adams?"
"Ah," says Blake. The pieces fall into place. "And you think Aurion will talk to you?"
I nod. "He needs to. If he doesn't, then I may not get the whole picture. And what I publish may not be completely accurate. Which may in turn make things unnecessarily hard for shifters everywhere."
Blake tongues his cheek and moves to the window, crossing his arms over his chest. I stand in silence as he considers. "And if I say no?"
"Well." I try to keep my voice strong. "Then I'll buy some hiking boots, a couple of granola bars, maybe one of those nice glass water bottles encased in pink plastic, and hike toward the cairn."
Blake snorts and looks at me over his shoulder. "You'll get stopped by a patrol."
I nod. "Yeah, that's what I'm counting on. And I'll sweet-talk them like you wouldn't believe, and get them to bring me to Aurion."
Blake can't help but smile. "And you think he'll be happy to talk to you then, if you're dragged in by a patrol?"
I give him an innocent shrug. "He doesn't sound like a generally happy person to begin with. So I don't think it would really make that big a difference, would it?"
Blake laughs and shakes his head. "Well, you're clearly determined."
"I am." I take a step forward. "Look, I'm not trying to write a hit piece. I don't want to blow shit up just for the sake of drama. I want to get the real story. I want to understand what happened. Why Alexander is risking so much. And depending on what I discover, I'll write the story that fits the facts. Or - hell. Maybe I won't write a story. I don't know. But soon a horde of other journalists will be coming here to get the story if I don't. And they may be less scrupulous. Or they might be looking for a sensational tabloid feature. The very least I can promise is that I'll be respectful."
Blake's eyes are bestial. Inhuman. He stares at me as if I'm prey and he's a predator, about to leap and drag me down. There's a moment where I'm actually afraid, and then he sighs and nods.
"Very well. We can head out in half an hour. It'll take about an hour of hiking to get you to the cairn. Then? Well. You're on your own."
I sigh and almost collapse into the armchair. "Thank you! Thank you so much."
"One thing," says Blake. "You're not the first person to ask me this. A man by the name of Allan has been in town for two days, asking similar questions."
My eyes go wide. "A reporter?"
Blake nods. "Not a pleasant individual. I turned him down point blank. Just thought you should know."
Oh, crap. I thought I was at the front of the pack. Instead, it looks like I'm trailing second. "Thanks. For telling me."
"Don't thank me," says Blake. "You might regret all this once you meet Aurion."
I gulp. "He can't be that bad, can he?"
Blake just stares at me, his eyes gleaming, and then snorts and steps out. I sit down to wait and realize my hands are trembling. I clench them and look out the window. Alexander. Where are you? What secrets are you hiding? I wish he was here. And with a start, I realize it's not because I want to ask him questions. It's simply because I'd like to step into his arms and have him hug me real tight.
Chapter 7
Good lord, this hike is heaven and hell. Heaven in that I get to scramble the whole way behind Blake, who oh-so-courteously refrains from turning into a wolf, meaning that I get to ogle his ass for an hour and a half as we hike into the hills. Hell, in that this body of mine has been carefully engineered to excel at watching movies and munching cookies, not trekking across the wilds. I'll be the first to admit I'm a hot mess. Sweating, gasping, pausing with a hand on a tree to sway and suck down a little more water.
Each time Blake turns around patiently to wait for me and raise an inquiring eyebrow. I make a dismissive face and give him a thumbs-up. No way am I going to try to speak right now. Then, way before I'm actually ready, I nod so as to appear tough, and he turns and on we go. Up and up, over fallen logs, across ledges, up leafy slopes, higher and higher into the hills.
Damn. The things I'll do for a story.
I don't notice any patrols, but at one point I ask Blake if they're out there, and he nods. "My pack gets patrol duty once a week. We're being watched, but that's OK. Nobody's going to mess with us as long as I'm leading you in. Just stay close and you'll be fine." His eyes gleam with humor, but I still don't want to imagine myself out here alone. Was that really my back-up plan? Bad Myra. Crazy Myra.
On we go. My breath burns in my throat. My shirt is stuck to my back. My knees ache. Do people do this for fun? They must, because there are entire stores dedicated to selling outdoor gear. No matter where I look, I fail to see a couch, a juice bar, or anything remotely civilized. Just green and brown and mulch as far as the eye can see.
Not that I hate nature. I guess I just like it in small doses. Like at the botanical garden. Or on the National Geographic channel. I feel mildly guilty that I'm not reveling in the great outdoors. And yes, the air is clear and clean and wonderful to breathe. And it's kinda nice to not hear horns and sirens. But overall, I'm sorry. I'm a city girl, born and bred.
Finally Blake raises a hand and goes still. I almost trip trying to do the same. My heart immediately begins to pound like a garbage truck reversing over and over into a cement wall. I look in every direction, but fail to see anything. We're right near the summit of a massive mountain. OK, fine, a small mountain. A big hill. But I don't see a thing.
"What is it?" I whisper.
"Shh," says Blake. "Wait."
So I do, and then, like something out of a ninja movie, suddenly there's a grizzled older man standing there to one side. One minute nothing, next minute, oh, hello.
"Blake," he says, voice almost bored.
"Grady," says my guide. His voice guarded.
"Who's this? She expected?" Grady doesn't look at me, which makes me want to grab a stone and throw it at him. Probably a bad idea.
"You know she's not. I'm bringing her to speak with Aurion. That all right with you?" From Blake's tone, it's clear he doesn't care if it is or not.
Grady nods slowly, finally turning to study me
, and I suddenly wish he'd just gone right on ignoring me like before. His eyes are as cold as slate, and there's very little humanity to them. I gaze right at him, giving him my very best journalist death stare. He finally nods and steps back, and disappears into the trees.
"Let's go," says Blake quietly.
"He was nice," I say, making a bit of an effort to catch up with Blake and walk abreast with him. "The huggy type."
Blake snorts. "Grady's OK. He just doesn't like people much. Or other shifters. He's a werewolverine. They're always ornery."
"How many werecreatures are there?" It's such a basic question, I'm amazed to realize I have no idea.
Blake shrugs one shoulder. "I don't know. I hear stories of different kinds all over the world. Around here? Mostly just wolves, bears, wolverines, with some tigers and lions thrown in for good measure. There's a werejaguar in Honeycomb Falls. Jericho. Works in the library."
"A werejaguar librarian? I'll have to stop by and check out a book." Blake gives me a sidelong look, and I smile innocently at him. "What? I'm the studious type."
Blake slows and points up ahead. "See those standing stones through the trees?"
I peer ahead, and I do. Maybe five big gray stones like the fingers of a hand. The area between them - where the palm would be - is flat and empty.
"That's the cairn. Don't step between the stones unless you're explicitly invited to do so, got it? Now, let's get closer. The caves are over to the left."
Caves? I don't know what I expected, but it definitely wasn't caves. We give the standing stones a wide berth, and after another minute of walking come to an escarpment of rock in whose face a half dozen caves are located. A number of men and animals are lounging in the late afternoon sunshine - several wolves and a tiger, I realize - and then I blink and realize that obviously they're wereanimals.
We stop as heads turn lazily to regard us, but my eyes lock in on a central figure. A massive man, perhaps in his sixties but still looking tougher than anybody I've ever seen. He's bare-chested, wearing a white fur cloak held around his neck with a gold clasp. A massive scar lies white across his hard chest, as if somebody tried to dig out his scar decades ago.
And failed.
This man stands, and I realize he's easily over six feet tall. Broad like a door. It's his eyes that make me want to start apologizing for something. Anything. They're the same blue as Alexander's, but his are cruel, cold, and absolutely merciless. I have no doubt that this man would kill me with zero remorse if he thought it was remotely necessary. I decide to make sure he never thinks that.
It's fascinating. He looks like Alexander, the same features, but where Alexander is handsome and appealing, this man is bleak and harsh. There's not a speck of humanity in his face. He may be in human form, but this is a predator, an animal, through and through.
"Blake." His voice is a whipcrack. "What are you doing here?"
Blake bends his head as if to a king, and then gestures to me. "This is Myra Cole, a reporter from Boston. She's come to talk to you about your son."
Aurion turns his full regard upon me, and it's like a cloak of lead has fallen onto my shoulders. Good lord, growing up with this guy as a dad had to be the worst. His blue eyes flick up and down me, and then he shakes his head. "I don't talk to reporters. Get her the hell out of here."
And with that, he turns and begins walking back to his cave entrance.
Blake gives me an apologetic shrug, and half turns to start walking back.
Hell no.
"Excuse me, Mr. Aurion?" I take a couple of steps after him. "Your son is running for mayor."
Aurion pauses, but doesn't look back at me. Instead, he says one word so filled with menace that I actually get goose bumps. "Blake."
It's a command and a threat both. I'm not even being considered. The werewolf takes hold of my arm, but I shrug him off. Suddenly I just have to know. Alexander grew up with this man. In this place. I have to know what happened, and what drove him away to Boston to begin a double life, pretending to be human, wanting to be mayor. Why? I don't know, exactly. But it comes down to that pain and vulnerability I saw in his eyes, hidden behind his mask of confidence and competence.
"Mr. Aurion. Sir. When I write my story, it will ruin your son. And it could bring hundreds of reporters here to speak to you if you don't speak to me. These hills will be crawling with them."
Aurion turns then to stare at me, and I gulp. I've never actually gulped before, only read the expression in books, but I swallow audibly and step back.
"You have been dismissed, human." Aurion steps toward me, and I have to fight to not turn and run. "I am the leader of this cairn. None dare oppose me, much less a little human woman like you. I told you to leave. So leave. Now."
"Or what?" I step forward, feeling crazy, but not caring. I've had to face down my share of corrupt politicians, criminals and other angry people. When push comes to shove, I will not let anybody intimidate me. I don't care who you are. I became a reporter precisely to confront assholes like this, and show them that the truth cares nothing for how rude or abusive they are.
"Or what?" Aurion seems taken aback by the question. As if the answer should be so obvious that he doesn't even deign to respond. "Or I'll drag you back down to the valley myself by the throat, woman."
"Go for it." I raise my chin and shove my fists onto my hips. "You don't scare me. I'm a reporter. Whatever you do to me will be read by millions. And when Alexander's lies are made public, and the whole world comes looking for revenge for being duped, I'll be there to point them at you. At this cairn. And everything will change."
Aurion pauses, eyes narrowing. "Change?"
"Oh, yes." I'm on a roll now. I almost never get angry. It's so much better to be nice. To be funny. To treat people well and have them treat you well in return. But when I finally do lose my cool, I don't care what trouble I might get in. I'll speak my piece, I'll get my story, and that's what's made me a kick-ass reporter. "You've got two choices. Either speak to me now, and tell me your side of the story, or stay quiet, and have the world come to its own conclusions. That could set off riots. You're old enough to remember how things were. Do you want to return to that time?"
I'm talking completely out of my ass. I don't want to return to that time. Nobody does. And I want no part in fear-mongering. But I've met Aurion's type before. The only thing he'll respect is a show of force. And this is all I've got.
Aurion rears to his full height and crosses his arms over his chest. He glares at Blake and then looks back at me. "Ask your questions, human. I'll answer. And then by the Earth Mother, you'll leave one way or another."
I feel a wave of relief swamp through me. The other shifters are staring at me wide-eyed. I'm guessing folks don't try to stand up to Aurion much. "Why do you think Alexander is hiding his shifter nature?"
"Why?" Aurion's contempt is clear. "Because he's weak and is trying to deny what he is."
"And what's that?"
Aurion leans down so that his large face is thrust into mine. "A superior creature."
"Superior?" I don't lean back. "To what?"
"To you, little monkey. He is a werelion of my lineage, a born ruler. Yet he hides amongst you humans, pretending to be one of you. He is pathetic. A failure. I feel nothing but shame and disgust."
"Wow," I say. "You must have a whole host of 'Dad of the Year' awards back there in your cave."
Aurion's eyes narrow and I hear Blake shift nervously behind me. I actually do regret saying that. Probably not a good idea.
"Watch your tongue," whispers Aurion. "Or I will lose what little patience I have left."
"OK, OK." My mind is scrambling. "Has Alexander always denied his true nature?"
"No." Aurion straightens. "Only at the end of his teenage years, when I was preparing him for leadership. It was then that the fault in his spirit showed through, and he stopped shifting."
"And why are you shifters so superior?" I know I'm asking for trouble.
"Why?" Aurion turns to the others and laughs, and they laugh with him. He looks back to me. "We live in harmony with the planet. We don't destroy it like you humans do. We are stronger. Faster. Better lovers. More charismatic. We live longer. We never get sick. We have the intelligence of a human, and the intuition of the wild. We do not suffer from the poverty, abuse, and pollution that you humans do in your cities. We have dignity. Pride."
I nod slowly. That's actually all true. Wait. Am I supposed to defend humanity now? I think of the evils plaguing humanity across the world and decide to sidestep that responsibility. I'm not here to debate. I'm here to report. "What happened to Alexander's mother?"
"She was shot by a human when Alexander was but a cub. I will not speak of this further." Aurion's voice becomes as hard as iron.
"Oh, I'm so sorry." My voice becomes hushed. I'm getting a better idea now. A sense of how the pieces fit together. "Thank you. For talking to me."
Aurion's laughter is cruel. "You are done? Good. Blake, take her. If she's not gone within the next ten heartbeats, I shall grow very, very angry."
Blake's grip on my arm is firm, but I don't plan to fight him. Instead, I turn and together we quickly leave the clearing, heading back down the mountain. We don't speak. I'm aware of how much I pushed my luck. But now I can only think of one thing. I need to speak to Alexander.
Chapter 8
Blake introduces me to his wife Rachel when we get back to Honeycomb Hall, calling me the craziest woman he's ever met. This merely gets a skeptical look from Rachel, who's a gorgeous, curvy gal with the kind of stern, almost grandmotherly authority that might even make Aurion blink. I'm given a room in which to shower and change, and for ten long minutes I simply let the shower scald and scour away the dirt, sweat, and fear from my body.
Grabbing an extra-comfy robe from the hook, I wrap my hair in a towel and sit on the edge of the bed and grab my phone. I have to call Alexander. I have to talk to him. A quick check reveals that I've missed hundreds of important tweets while climbing to the cairn. The world keeps ticking, and I feel like I've fallen off the map. My finger's no longer on the pulse, and it feels weird, almost disorienting. I've also got direct messages and emails from Mercia. I read a couple, and put off writing her back.
A Lion After My Own Heart: (BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance) (Honeycomb Falls Book 5) Page 5