by Tara West
“It doesn’t matter,” Hakon grumbled.
“It does matter.” Luc slammed the bottle down and pushed off from the counter. “He got demon burn for me. He was touched by the veil. Is he supposed to return to normal after that?”
Hakon stood. “No, which is why he can’t be around Amara.”
His heart ached for his mate and banished brother. “She might be the one person who can heal him.”
Hakon’s nose and eyes lengthened as he let out a low rumble. “Or he might be the one person who could destroy her. I’m not taking that chance.”
Rone whimpered, looking hopelessly from Luc to Hakon.
“So we’re just supposed to shut him out?” Luc growled in despair. “What about after he’s served his sentence? We’re not going to welcome him back to the pack?”
Hakon averted his eyes. “I don’t know yet.”
Luc clomped angrily around the island and stuck a finger in Hakon’s chest. “You might be the alpha, but this decision should be made by all of us, not just you.”
“I am the protector.” Hakon smacked Luc’s hand away with a snarl. “My job is to protect Amara.”
He narrowed his eyes, searching Hakon for any sign of weakness, despair clouding his brain when he found none. “You’ll destroy her if you keep her away from Drasko forever.”
Hakon turned his face to the ceiling and let out a primal roar.
“Quiet,” he hissed. “You’ll wake her.”
Chest heaving, Hakon hissed, “I’m not fucking talking about this.”
He folded his arms, refusing to back down when Amara’s heart was at stake. “Now I understand why she gets so frustrated with you.”
Hakon answered with a roar before he stomped out of the room.
Luc’s heart sank. How were they going to heal the rift in their family when Hakon perceived Drasko as a threat to Amara? Could Hakon be right? Had Drasko’s encounter with the veil made him too volatile to trust around their mate?
DRASKO LAY ON THE NARROW cot in his cramped bedroom, scrolling through pictures on his phone. Most of them were of Amara. His favorite was the one of her holding up her speckled trout after Drasko took her fishing on their pontoon boat. Her blonde hair had come loose in a wild tangle around her face, and her vivid silver-blue eyes matched the pale summer sky. She was breathlessly beautiful. Drasko had fucked her in the shower later, after Rone helped him filet their stringer of fish. Drasko still got hard when he thought about that day, how he’d pushed her against the shower wall, and how slick and ready she was when he slid his cock inside her, pumping her with slow, deep thrusts with her her ankles wrapped around his waist.
Rone had been downstairs cooking, so Drasko got Amara all to himself. In all honesty, he preferred to be alone with his mate, pretending they were the only two souls in the universe while he brought her to orgasm. She’d come twice with him in the shower and once in bed after the water had gone cold. They’d spent the rest of the afternoon stroking and petting each other until Rone called them to dinner. They’d shared sly looks during the meal before racing back upstairs. He’d pounded her so hard, digging his fingers into her round ass while she sucked Rone’s cock, that the rattle of the bedframe knocked a lamp off the nightstand.
Tired and spent, she’d whispered how much she loved him before falling asleep in his arms. He’d never felt more whole than when he held her. He wondered if he’d ever hold her again. The thought filled him with such overwhelming despair, he had to fight to keep from slitting his wrists.
Eight more months of hell and then he would see her again—that is if his brothers let him. They hadn’t spoken a word to him since his banishment. He received news about the family from Agent Johnson. That’s how he knew Amara and the baby were okay, thank the Ancients.
As he gazed at a picture of Amara in a nightie that left little to the imagination, he imagined she must be round with Hakon’s child by now. Drasko wondered if he’d ruined his opportunity to breed with Amara, his one true chance at becoming a birth father.
How did she feel about him after he’d almost killed her and her unborn child? Did she loathe him? Did she fear him? She’d be a fool if she didn’t, because those same demons he’d encountered at the veil were still with him, haunting his every thought and telling him to do unspeakable things. If it wasn’t for his love for Amara, he would have ripped his boss’s tongue out and shoved it up his ass during one of that man’s many tirades. Or he would’ve rammed the truck that had cut him off on the highway. Then he would’ve shifted into protector form and pulled him out of the cab and ripped him in two. Banishment had done little to ease Drasko’s simmering rage. If anything, it had become worse; he was always one breath away from going on a violent rampage.
How volatile would he be in eight months’ time? And how could he return to Amara as her protector if he couldn’t protect her from himself?
AMARA SAT AT THE FOOT of Drasko’s bed in spirit form and watched him scroll through pictures on his phone. The same thing happened every night after she fell asleep— Drasko pining for Amara, and Amara pining for him. She wished Drasko could see her. Failing that, she wished she could find a way for her spirit to convey the message that she loved and missed him. A dark cloud of despair seemed to hover over him, and that cloud was growing darker with each passing night. The Haunted Forest’s demons were still with him. Unlike her other mates, Drasko was denied the gift of her healing touch. If she could touch him, she could ease the heavy burden crushing his soul.
From what little she’d been told of the forest, she knew they’d endured a pointless week of hell, all in the name of avenging her honor. Like Amara, Drasko had been burned by the veil. Amara knew the darkness and despair that had touched him, for she’d felt it, too. She’d been lucky, though, because each time she used her healing magic to drive away her mates’ demons, it had soothed her, too. Yet Drasko had to face his nightmares alone.
It wasn’t fair that he’d been banished. How could Tor have been so cruel? How could Hakon have supported Tor’s decision? She loved the father of her unborn child, but if Drasko returned to her damaged beyond repair, she didn’t think she could ever forgive Hakon for his indifference.
Chapter Eleven
Amara awoke from her nap groggy and depressed. The clock blinked 9:45, which meant she’d slept through dinner. The nap had been worth it though, because she’d gotten to spend a long while with Drasko. He’d climbed into bed and prayed to the Ancients to keep his mate and brothers safe. His selflessness only emphasized his unjust and interminable punishment.
After her head cleared, she trudged downstairs. She heard the hollers and hoots of her mates above the din of swords clashing in the video game they were playing in the den. How could they play those violent games after everything they’d been through in Romania?
A full pot of moose chili was on the stove. Four empty bowls were beside it, as well as an untouched pan of cornbread and a cinnamon coffeecake. Aw, they hadn’t eaten dinner without her. She knew how moody they got if they waited too long to eat. She hoped they hadn’t minded waiting.
She warmed up the chili and spooned it into the bowls, then set the table. Her mates must have heard the activity, because they shut off the game and raced upstairs.
Rone was upon her in a few long strides, taking the cornbread from her. “Sit down. I can do it.”
“I’m pregnant, not an invalid,” she huffed as she sat beside Hakon.
“Remember what the healer said,” Hakon reminded her. “You are to limit your activity during your last month.”
“I was setting the table, not doing backflips off a snowboard.”
“Rone is capable of setting the table without you,” Hakon said with a stony expression, his eyes colder than a winter ice storm.
His aloofness made her heart plummet. She balled her hands into fists, fighting the urge to smack some sort of emotion into his face. What was wrong with him? How could he treat her like this? Didn’t he care that her heart
was breaking? That she was going crazy cooped up in this cabin without anything to do other than count the days until Drasko’s return?
How had she gone from tribal healer to tribal couch potato in a matter of months? Hakon wouldn’t let her do anything. She couldn’t talk about Drasko, she couldn’t visit sick animals, and she couldn’t help Rone. What else could she do but sit around and bemoan her swollen ankles?
They ate dinner in silence, the mood having shifted after Hakon scolded Amara. She stared into her empty bowl, a symbol of her boring and meaningless life.
“Did you visit him again?”
She looked up at Hakon, who was glaring at her through narrowed slits. “I did.”
He dropped his spoon and folded his hands in front of him. “After I told you not to?”
“You can’t order me around like a child.”
He arched a brow. “Do you understand what banishment means?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“And you understand that he is not to see anyone?”
Sorely tempted to snatch the ladle out of the chili and smack him upside the head with it, she clutched the edge of the table like a lifeline. “He can’t see me.”
Hakon frowned. “He could’ve killed you and the baby.”
Ugh. Did they have to rehash this every time they spoke of Drasko?
“But he didn’t.”
Hakon leaned back, giving her a long, hard look. “He should’ve never lost his temper with Tor.”
“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean he needed to be banished for a year. He’s very sorry.” Her voice cracked.
“I’m sure he is,” Hakon said wryly.
“He’s so lonely.” A single tear slipped down her cheek.
“That’s the point of banishment.”
“Have you no heart? He’s your brother. That black cloud he’s carried ever since you returned from Romania has never left him, and he has to face it alone.”
“I’m your protector.” He wagged a finger at her. “My job is first and foremost to keep you and our child safe.”
“Drasko is no threat to me. He loves me.” She gestured at her other mates, whose silence wasn’t reassuring. “He loves all of us.”
Her stomach rolled when Rone and Luc looked down at the table. Their reluctance to speak meant they were heartless like Hakon or too afraid to stand up to him. Either way, she was ashamed of them.
Hakon slowly stood. “He put your lives in danger and brought shame to our pack.”
“The only mate I’m ashamed of right now is you.” She abruptly rose, kicking back her chair. “And both of you,” she said to Luc and Rone. “For not standing up for Drasko when he needed you.”
Rone went white and Luc tensed, turning bright crimson. She turned her back on them and marched upstairs. Once she reached her room, she shut the door behind her and slumped to the floor in a heap. Ancients save her, she was starting to hate her life and loathe her mates.
RONE WATCHED HIS MATE storm up the stairs with a heavy heart. She was ashamed of him, and he hated himself for it. He’d had every intention of standing up for Drasko, but he didn’t want to challenge Hakon in front of Amara. He and Luc had already conferred and decided they would speak to Hakon tonight after she went to bed. Drasko had suffered for his sins long enough. It was time his brothers reached out to him. Rone could only imagine how much his older brother suffered, all alone without her healing touch. His sentence seemed excessive, given the circumstances. How selfish Rone had been these past four months, too cowardly to speak up to his father and the alpha. He’d felt lower than the mold growing under his old hunting boots at the look of disappointment in Amara’s eyes.
He whimpered when she slammed her bedroom door shut. She’d be sleeping alone tonight, which meant Rone wouldn’t get much sleep without Amara by his side.
It’s time, Luc projected, clearing his throat.
Hakon’s attention shot to Luc and Rone, the subtle twitch above his lip returning. “What is it?”
“She’s right,” Rone blurted, apprehension cracking his voice as his throat dried like old leather.
Hakon rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Not you, too.”
“Our brother is suffering,” Luc said, “and we don’t want our mate to hate us.”
“What do you expect me to do?” Hakon threw up his hands. “Go against our chieftain?”
Luc leveled him with a look. “Let us relay a message to him through Johnson. Let him know he’s still loved.”
Hakon ran a hand down his face. “I don’t want to give him false hope.”
Rone coughed into his hand, summoning the courage to speak. “And I don’t want him to have no hope.”
Hakon thoughtfully rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Let me think about it.”
Rone shared a hopeful look with Luc. He couldn’t believe Hakon was actually listening to them. Could this be the turning point that would help Drasko gain their chieftain’s pardon? If Hakon was this open to discussion, maybe Tor would be, too.
“Either way, we’re sending him a letter,” Luc said. “So is Amara.”
Hakon’s lip twitch became more pronounced. “Leave her out of it. We can’t give her false hope either.”
Luc vehemently shook his head. “She will see him reading our letter. She’ll be angry if we don’t include her.”
Just when Rone thought they’d finally broken through to Hakon, he threw his beer bottle against the stone fireplace before huffing out of the room. A minute later, they heard the den door slam violently.
Alphas, Luc said with a chuckle.
Rone didn’t think this was a laughing matter. Drasko’s pardon depended on the generosity of two stubborn alphas. If they couldn’t get Drasko home soon, Amara would never forgive them. He’d learned to live without his brother the last four months. He couldn’t bear spending another night apart from his mate.
CONSTANTINE AND HIS brothers pulled up in front of their favorite pub after a long week of work. The Devoras’ home had been in shambles. Constantine had been to the place when their mate was still living. It had been clean and maintained, nothing like the baracă it was now. He and his brothers had spent the week scraping scum off the shower, ripping up carpet, and burning the flea-ridden linens and soiled mattresses. Most of the furniture wasn’t salvageable, so he and his brothers built new bedframes and a table and chairs.
Though he took great pride in his workmanship, he feared this refurbished home wouldn’t be nice enough for Tatiana. If she was anything like his mother, she wouldn’t be pleased. It was smaller than most other houses in their village, but he hoped to add onto it soon. They had wanted to start work on the place months ago, but they’d only just finished rebuilding their părinţi’s and bunic’s homes. After he and his brothers made needed repairs to the house, they’d work on the farm. This spring they’d plow and plant new crops. Their fathers and bunics had already promised to stock the place with animals. Once their home was complete, they’d appeal to Tatiana’s fathers once more.
Though they were eager to bring their mate to Romania and start a family, Constantine was also apprehensive. He remembered Amara’s warning that Tatiana didn’t want to be a farmer. What if they couldn’t make Tatiana happy? Would they be doomed to a marriage plagued by strife and misery? Or worse, would she be unfaithful to them, as his mother had tried with the Devoras?
Dimitri elbowed him with a growl when they ducked their heads and walked into the dark bar. Sitting at the far end were all four disgraced Stormwatchers. The other patrons gave them a wide berth, crowding the opposite side of the bar while the drunk Alaskans hollered and hooted and caused a scene.
Constantine led his brothers to the other end of the tavern. Their only other option was to leave, but that would’ve made them look like cowards, and they would not cower before a bunch of drunks. Forced to take a table not far from the Stormwatchers, he kept a cautious eye on the rowdy pack. All four men glared at them with glassy eyes.
His brother Andrei bowed up like a feral cat. I don’t like the looks they’re giving us.
Neither do I, he answered, snarling at the Stormwatcher alphas, Aguk and Ranko. What did they think to accomplish by picking a fight with the Lupescus? Four drunks were no match for Constantine and his brothers.
“Well, if it isn’t the Lupescu brothers.” Ranko, the Stormwatcher’s second alpha, tipped his drink toward them. “Tired after a long day of fixing up a stolen house?”
“It isn’t stolen.” He said with a stiff jaw. “It’s ours by law.”
Ranko’s chuckle was sinister. “I hear the Thunderfoot bitch is destined to be your mate. You are paired well. She will trade one lying, thieving family for another.”
Before Constantine could react, Dimitri rushed past him in a blur, slamming into Ranko with a thunderous roar.
Ranko flew off his stool and fell on his ass, clutching his elbow while he twisted in agony. “I think you broke my arm!” he cried drunkenly.
The Lepescus rushed to Dimitri’s side when the other Stormwatchers fisted their hands. Constantine kicked the floor beneath him like a bull preparing to charge. Let them attack his brother so he could have an excuse to plant his fist in Aguk’s face.
Dimitri hauled Ranko up by his collar. “Call my mate a bitch again.” He looked over the trembling Stormwatcher with contempt. “No? I didn’t think so. Her name is Tatiana, and you will show respect when you speak of her. Understood?”
After Ranko silently nodded, Dimitri released him, laughing as the drunk fell to the floor.
Their youngest brother, Dejan, clasped Dimitri’s shoulder. “Don’t waste your breath fighting disgraced wolves, brother.”