Roaring Up the Wrong Tree

by Celia Kyle

  “I’ll take care of this, you go.”

  “I—” She stared at him, hope, fatigue, and anxiety filling her gaze.

  “I’m going to chat with Craven and then you and I can talk in the SUV. Let me help you, Trista. You don’t know me, you have no reason to trust me, but take a deep breath and know I’m just trying to help.” He prayed she could smell past his rage at Craven and discover he spoke the truth.

  “Keen…”

  Carefully, so damned carefully because he valued his junk, he pulled her close to him and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Let me do this and then we can speak.”

  She took so long to reply that he wondered if she could suddenly no longer form words.

  “Okay.” The word was barely a whisper, but his beast rejoiced in her small measure of trust.

  He watched her walk away, watched the sway of her hips—damn she was something—and the way her hands trembled as her arms hung limply at her sides. That took the small ounce of pleasure he’d experience away in a heartbeat.

  Hand still wrapped around Craven’s throat, he focused on the male. “Now, with very small words, explain to me why you felt your behavior was acceptable.”

  He eased his hold enough to let the male to breathe. “That bitch—”

  “Ah, ah, ah.” He allowed his nails to prick the man’s skin. “That was too big. Try again.”

  A good fifteen minutes later, Keen left the male in a quivering, whining mess. When he rounded the corner and spied a decidedly pale Trista huddled on his front seat, he wondered why he hadn’t slaughtered the asshole landlord. The bear wanted to know why, too.

  Good point.

  Keen spun and headed back the way he came. Trista could wait five more minutes.

  *

  Trista had one thought whirling through her mind as Keen placed the SUV in reverse. It had nothing to do with a plastic bag filled with her belongings that he’d tossed into the backseat. Nor were they centered on the wad of cash he’d pushed into her hands.

  No. The only thing she could focus on was the fact his knuckles were bloody.

  Because of her.

  Not because he’d hit her, but because he’d fought for her. He’d fought and then gotten back some of her things. Staring at the ball of money in her lap, she realized she wasn’t poor any longer.

  Okay, she wasn’t rich, but she could at least spring for a hotel for a few nights and actually eat.

  It made her wonder if there was more to Keen than a pretty face and quick, seductive smile.

  “Thank you.” Her words broke the silence. “I know I didn’t deserve your help and I’ve been nothing but a bitch, but thank you.”

  Keen grunted.

  He drove farther along Sunwell and then turned onto Main Street. They traveled along in silence, the rhythmic thump of the tires rolling over asphalt warring with the sound of their breathing. Moments passed and she spied the sign for the single hotel in their small town.

  They approached and he didn’t slow, the SUV maintaining its speed as he flew by.

  She half-turned in her seat, pointing behind them as she faced him. “You passed the hotel.”

  “Yes.”

  That was it. A single word, a single syllable.

  “And amazingly enough, I’m staying at the hotel for the next few days.”

  He flicked his blinker and the harsh clicking of the indicator stung her ears. “Not really, no.”

  The SUV eased right and she gripped her seat to remain steady. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

  “Well, my discussion with Craven—”

  She snorted. Apparently bloodied knuckles constituted a “discussion” in his world. He grumbled something about not killing males who deserved it, before he spoke.

  “After my discussion”—he glared at her—“with Craven, it’s best if you stay with me at the clan den for the time being.”

  “You?”

  “Me.”

  “But you… I’m… It’s just…” She shook her head. “I really appreciate what you did for me. I mean…” She swallowed past the lump at her throat and stared at the money once again. It wasn’t a lot to some people, but it was huge to her. “Thank you. But I’m not staying with you. I’m not going anywhere with you but to the hotel. You and I being near a bed ain’t happening.”

  Ever. Because he was too tempting and probably knew a million ways to seduce someone. Not that he’d seduce her or want to seduce her, but she did have a vagina…

  “Uh-huh.”

  Trista tried again. “Don’t you remember? You’re supposed to be running me out of town on a misguided concept of authority and righteousness, not leading me to my potential death and dismemberment. Hopefully in that order if it has to happen.”

  This time they turned left, bouncing over the rutted road, but she couldn’t be bothered with their surroundings. The important thing was to get him to swing his happy SUV-driving ass around and take her to the hotel. Going anywhere with an Abrams was a bad, bad idea.

  Really bad.

  “Misguided?” He glanced at her, a single brow raised.

  Trista winced. “Misguided may not have been the right word. Maybe ignorant. That’s better. It’s more ignorance and authority than anything.”

  Based on his frown, she didn’t think she’d made things better. A closer look revealed she may have made it worse.

  “I’m ignorant? Do you know who I am?”

  “Is that a trick question? We’ve already established you’re Keen Abrams. Your brothers are Ty, Van, and Isaac. The Itan, Enforcer, and Healer respectively. Also, in case you were wondering, they’d probably enjoy me being on the ‘die today’ menu.”

  Suddenly the SUV came to a jerky stop, the action causing her to thump against her seat with a grunt. He cut the engine and shoved his door open, leaving her to gawk at her surroundings. The house that loomed before them was massive and yet it appeared welcoming. It had that old-world, southern charm thing going on with its high pillars and white exterior.

  It also had a very large glaring male standing next to a very pregnant female who was bracketed by a familiar, very evil bear cub.

  Keen appeared at her door, tugging it open before reaching across her and freeing her from the seatbelt.

  “You really did bring me to the clan den.” He didn’t deny it and her doom stood on the porch and crossed his massive arms over his chest. “Please remember: death then dismemberment. That part is important.”

  Yup, dying, dead, and gone.

  “Hush.”

  She shook her head. “Keen—”

  He placed his finger over her lips. “Hush. You need a place to stay and, for now, this is where I’m at. So, you’re crashing here. I’ll keep you safe.”

  She licked his finger to get him to stop touching her. No matter their age, boys did not like getting licked by surprise. “You’re tying the words ‘you’ and ‘where I’m staying’ together and I don’t like that.”

  “Trista,” he sighed. “Right now, I need you to let it go.”

  She looked at him then, stared into his eyes that should be brown and were now black. Allowing her gaze to shift to the male on the porch, she quickly redirected it to Keen.

  “I’m going to be safe? I’m really not ready to die.” She wasn’t prepared to join her mother.

  “You’re going to be safe,” he nodded.

  “Even from him and the spawn from the seventh level of hell?”

  Keen glanced over his shoulder and then turned back to her, a smile on his lips. “Yes, even from the spawn.”

  “Why should I trust you?” That was the big one. When she moved past everything that’d happened in the last several hours there was one thing glaringly obvious.

  Token protests. She’d given half-hearted objections when he’d done this or that. For some reason, that snarly part of her wanted to be near Keen and worked to push aside every objection she had.

  Keen brushed strands of her hair from her face and tucked them be
hind her ear. His fingertips skimmed her cheek, callused skin abrading hers, but she didn’t want him to stop touching her. The scent of Craven’s blood hit her nose, but beneath it lurked Keen’s and she was okay with that.

  Okay with his nearness, his touch, his decisions…

  Stupid animal thing that trusted him and accepted that he could—would—defend her.

  “Because I understand the laws of visitation and you know the textbook definition of purge. Because I think dealing with people like Craven is pretty standard for you and maybe I’d like to show you it doesn’t have to be.” He cupped her cheek and his tenderness nearly brought tears to her eyes. Nearly. “And worst case, I’ll take you wherever you want to go in the morning. For right now, give in and sleep.”

  Rhinos stomped through her stomach, bringing along a good dose of panic and fear.

  “I won’t be safe here, Keen.” She wheezed out the words.

  “Yes, you will. You’ll be here as my guest.”

  She snorted. “Of the bears? The ones who drove out an entire pack of hyenas? Which, by the way, I happen to be one.”

  So was her mother. Kind of. Sorta, but not really.

  “Trista?” His gaze remained focused on her while he caressed her cheek. “I’ll take care of you.”

  She wanted to believe him so, so badly. For once in her life, she wanted to be able to lean on someone else. Just once…

  Making a decision, she brushed aside his touch and straightened. She drew her emotions back into her body, hiding them. She’d try and believe in him, but she’d keep her heart locked away and out of reach. “I have to be out of Grayslake and at the gas station by eleven.”

  He frowned, but nodded. “I’ll get you there. C’mon.”

  C’mon. Like it was so easy to crawl from the SUV and follow a man toward the male who may have ordered her mother’s death.

  Right.

  Chapter Four

  Keen kept his grip tight on Trista’s hand, twining their fingers together as he held her captive. He sensed her resistance, her desire to flee, but he couldn’t let that happen. Not when this simple touch of skin on skin soothed his bear like no other. How many women had he been through while searching for this sense of calm?

  Too many to count.

  Yet, with this simple connection, his bear was focused on protection and not destruction.

  A novel experience for him.

  He drew her closer to the clan den, his feet crunching over the pale gravel driveway. Eventually the rocks gave way to grass, the soft earth welcoming him, and then he stood before the steps leading to the home.

  Steps that led to the porch which, in turn, led to Ty and Mia. Mia’s expression was open and welcoming with a touch of wariness. He couldn’t blame her for the emotions, her reaction to Trista.

  Hyenas had ripped their lives apart, had been responsible for deaths and scarring wounds, but that wasn’t Trista’s doing.

  “Ty, Mia.” He bared his neck and his bear snarled in protest. He was stronger, faster, and bigger than his older brother.

  But they sure as shit didn’t want to be in charge. Which was why he showed Ty the deference due the clan’s Itan and kept a lid on his beast. Unless the fucker wanted to lead the Grayslake clan, it’d shut its trap. Reminded of that, the animal quieted pretty damned fast.

  Ty narrowed his eyes, attention shifting between Keen and Trista before finally settling on Keen. He tilted his head toward Trista. “What’s she still doing in town? I purged Boyne Falls. I think it’s pretty obvious that I don’t want hyenas anywhere near here. Redby either. This part of Georgia is closed to them.”

  Keen nodded. “Yes, if she were making her home in Boyne Falls, she’d be violating your decree. Since she’s not,” he shrugged, “she’s not. She’s abiding the laws of visitation.”

  “You can spout laws all day, Keen”—Ty’s glared hardened—“but she’s not coming into this house. Hell, I don’t want her in Grayslake.”

  Keen raised his eyebrows. “Not coming in? Amazingly enough, she is. Laws of visitation with a dash of occupation. It boils down to the fact that she can visit the territory and she can safely stay with anyone who grants her shelter. Since I live here, I’m granting it. Step aside, Ty.” Focusing on his older brother, he placed his foot on the bottom step and then rose to the second. Ty didn’t look like he was gonna budge. “Move. Aside.”

  Finally, Mia spoke. “Ty,” she whispered. “You know he’s probably right.”

  Keen almost snorted. Probably right? There was no question. He’d happily flip through the books in his office, his ex-office, and point out his justification for Trista’s presence.

  Ty breathed deeply and then froze as a ripple, a gradual wave, overtook his skin. Brown fur quickly followed in its wake, coating his brother’s arms and neck. It snaked higher, slithering until his cheeks were equally covered. “I know that scent, Keen.”

  “I’m sure you do. You met a lot of hyenas that day.”

  That day. The day Ty waded into Boyne Falls and with the help of the wolves, rid the town of their infestation. Rid the area of shifters like Trista. He had no doubt there were many who deserved to die at the time, but what about women like Trista? What about them?

  His brother shook his head. “No, it’s more than that. It’s—”

  Mia placed a hand on Ty’s arm, cutting his brother off. The Itana’s attention was entirely on Trista and Keen refocused on the woman at his side. She tried to put on a brave front, but even he saw the stark whiteness of her face. It was then he sensed the trembles that traveled from her hands to his and her whole body seemed to buzz with suppressed fear. Cold. Hard. Fear.

  She’d been more pissed than afraid of Keen, but she quivered beneath the strength of Ty’s glare.

  Unacceptable.

  He opened his mouth to blast his brother, but Mia beat him to it.

  “Ty, she’s coming inside.”

  His brother flung his arm out, gesturing toward Trista. “She smells familiar, Mia. And there’s something else. She’s—”

  “She’s part hyena and from Boyne Falls. I’d be surprised if she didn’t. Now, she’s coming inside. Right this second.” Mia looked at Keen. “Do you want her in the guestroom that connects to yours?”

  That had Trista freezing, but he didn’t take a moment to ask her why. He knew she didn’t trust him and he hadn’t given her reason to. But he had sanctuary within his grasp and he wasn’t going to squander the opportunity.

  “Yes. That room is perfect.”

  Mia flashed him a smile, wide and with a hint of happiness. “Good.” She removed her hand from Ty and turned toward the front door. “Come on in, then.”

  Ignoring his brother’s glare, he tugged Trista up the steps. He made sure his body remained between the woman at his side and Ty as they passed. A low, rumbling growl came from Ty, quickly followed by renewed tremors from Trista. Keen curled his lip and exposed a rapidly lengthening fang.

  He would take on Ty for Trista. Take him on and win.

  He didn’t realize he’d stopped until Trista tugged on their joined hands, urging him to continue moving forward. He fought to keep his gaze intent on Ty’s, but eventually he was forced to look away, to follow the woman into the clan den.

  They moved down familiar hallways, delving deeper into the house until they came to a stop near Keen’s suite.

  When they reached the two doorways, Mia turned back to them. Her hand continued to stroke her large belly, palm gliding over her roundness in what he assumed was a soothing motion. The larger she got, the more often he found her rubbing her stomach.

  “Here you are, then.” Her smile was a little more forced, but still held a hint of welcome. “I’ll just get Trista settled and then I’ll see you two in the morning.”

  Keen wasn’t sure it was a good idea for the two women to be alone. In fact, if Ty found Trista’s scent on his mate, it might send him over the edge.

  “I can—”

  Mia cut in. “Go
to bed and we’ll see you in the morning.”

  Trista’s expression pleaded with him, begged him not to allow Mia to pull her away, but Mia was the Itana. And while his inner-bear had problems with Ty, it had nothing but respect for their Itana.

  Mia reached for the door on the left and turned the knob, allowing the panel to swing wide and grant the women entrance. He knew what they’d find. The room was decorated much like his own. Solid dark wood furniture with deep colors that weren’t overly masculine, but weren’t feminine either. Dear God, it was unisex. Plain. Interchangeable with any other guestroom in the world.

  No hint of his personality lingered in the two bedrooms and it made him realize even more about himself. He was a guest in his own home. His mother had decorated the rooms when he was younger and it was as if his parents knew he was only passing through. He wouldn’t settle in the clan den.

  They knew he’d leave someday and they hadn’t bothered trying to suit his tastes.

  “Keen?” Trista’s soft voice tugged him from the sudden realization that he’d never been meant to stay in the clan den—hell, maybe even Grayslake—for the rest of his life.

  “Sorry,” he cleared his throat. “Right. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

  His hand shook as he reached for his bedroom door, arm trembling as the truth sunk into his bones.

  Keen’s home wasn’t in Grayslake, maybe not even in Georgia. Catching one last glimpse of Trista as the door swung shut made him realize one other truth. He might not be meant for Georgia, but maybe, just maybe, he was meant for Trista.

  *

  Trista was gonna die. Plain and simple. Dead and gone and buried before she had a chance to finish her horrible, hand-to-mouth existence.

  Was this how her mother felt?

  She didn’t have time to follow that line of thought because suddenly she found herself following a waddling Itana into a bedroom. The space was filled with solid furniture. Nothing fancy, but obviously high quality with shining dark wood polished to a smooth shine. The bedspread sported a deep red. Not one of passion, but of comfort and warmth.

  “Well, this is it.” Mia made her way through the room. “There are extra clothes in the dressers. Just sweats and stuff. Nothing fancy.” The woman turned and pointed at a closed door nearby. “That’s the bathroom. It’s got a shower and all that. It’s a Jack and Jill which means Keen uses it as well. I’m sure he won’t just come barging in or anything.” The Itana blushed. “You can trust him. More than anyone else here, you can trust him.”