Roaring Up the Wrong Tree

by Celia Kyle

  Trista turned her head to focus on the other vehicles. “And the rest?”

  “Probably Terrence and his entourage. Not sure who else he brought with him, though,” he murmured. “Let’s find out.”

  “I’m scared.” There, the words were out.

  “Give me a little trust, Tris. He’s a good man and a better bear.”

  Trista rested her chin on his chest. “You’re sure?”

  “I wouldn’t let you out of this room if I wasn’t.”

  With a sigh, she stepped back and reached for her borrowed clothes. “Okay, let’s see what they have to say and…” She swallowed and prayed Keen would abide by her wishes. “And even if he is my family, you won’t force me to spend time with him? I don’t think I can after…”

  “Tris.” He stopped her with a gentle touch and cupped her cheeks. “I love you.”

  She felt that love to her bones and beyond, it filled her from head to toe and she hoped his feelings would never end.

  “I love you and if you never want to see him again, we won’t. For now, we’ll use him for our safety and to sort things out. After that, even if he is your uncle, we can walk away.” When he kissed her, she leaned into the touch, drawing strength from his body.

  All too soon, their meeting came to an end and they separated to dress. It took moments to become presentable and they went to the bedroom door. Traveling along the hallway, they were met by Ty halfway to the common area of the house.

  “Terrence is here.” Ty’s voice was low, but audible as he spoke to Keen. “Mia’s dad and Isaac, too.” That’s when Ty’s concerned gaze flicked to her and then back to his brother.

  “And you know our brother,” Keen countered. “I’m not worried about his reaction.”

  The Itan sighed. “And I know our brother.” He relaxed for a moment. “But those aren’t the only extras who appeared with him.”

  “Who else?”

  Trista wasn’t sure she wanted to know. New people meant new trouble. They already had enough with Terrence and his inner-circle.

  “His mate and sons,” Ty continued and Trista’s stomach clenched. “And,” the Itan heaved in a deep breath, “and Jessa.”

  Panic welled inside her. It was stupid and unnatural and there was no reason to be wary of Jessa’s presence, but she was. Keen had only thought himself in love with the werebear long ago, but the woman had proven she wasn’t the one for Keen. So why was Trista worried Keen would suddenly decide that he wanted Jessa instead?

  Because he’d craved her once.

  Rough hands grasped her and backed her up until her back collided with the wall. Keen loomed over her, a fierce expression on his face that looked like a cross between anger and frustration.

  “You’re mine.” He fisted her hair.

  “Yes.” She belonged to him, wholly and without question.

  “Which means I’m yours.” He tightened his grip just enough to cause a slight sting. “Yours.”

  She gazed at him and watched the fury drain to be replaced by love. The love they’d professed and shared across pillows and against bare skin.

  “Okay.”

  “She’s nothing now, Trista.”

  “Okay,” she rasped, knowing he spoke the truth. She may not have recognized it earlier, but she did now.

  The rough grip transformed to a soft caress, one that slid over her shoulders, down her arms, and ended with their fingers twined together. “Ty? Thank you for letting us know.”

  The Itan grunted, sounding very, very much like his father. With that, Ty turned and headed back the way he’d come.

  “I want to introduce you to Terrence. He’s a good male and no matter what position he has in your life, I’m asking you to give him a chance.” His voice held a plea, one she couldn’t deny.

  What if Keen hadn’t given her a chance? What if he’d scented a hyena and run her off without a second thought?

  Trista nodded. “Okay.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Let’s meet the Southeast Itan.”

  The path to the kitchen was familiar, as was the route to the living room. The murmur of voices reached them first, the deep baritone of the males offset by the high alto of the women. The tone was subdued, but seemed to be imbued with a hint of excitement, as well.

  The excitement made her nervous. The Southeast Itan was a powerful man and if she wasn’t who they all thought she was, how would he retaliate?

  “Shh… I’m right here. You’ll be fine.” Keen squeezed her hand.

  They paused as they neared the threshold and she fought to ignore the massive males who lined the hallway. Guards. Of course the Southeast Itan wouldn’t travel without guards. And each one appeared more deadly than the last.

  Her mate must have sensed her growing unease and he was quick to reassure her. “Tris?” She tore her gaze from the suit-clad men. “We’re in the clan house, with my brothers inside that room. I know they would protect you with their lives. Knowing that, knowing you’d be safe, I could take on every male in this home and win. Nothing would get past me.” He stroked her neck, fingers gliding over the new scars that decorated her skin. “I’m sorry the bear was torn in two different directions by Adrienne and Reid and couldn’t keep you from harm, but that wouldn’t happen here. Here, they’d all die.”

  That had the guards growling, the sound rolling and echoing off the tiled floor, but Keen ignored the sounds. “Are you ready?”

  Trista nodded. She wasn’t, but she didn’t think she’d ever be ready. Not really. “Yes.”

  Before they could take the last few steps, a younger man stuck his head through the arched entry to the living room. “Dad wants to know why you guys are growl—” He swallowed his words and simply stared at her with wide eyes. His gaze shifted from her to Keen, widening even further, before settling on her once again. “Oh. Oh. Dad?” With that, he disappeared from view. “Dad!”

  They followed the man, more of a boy, into the space to join the rest of their visitors. In reality, Keen dragged Trista into the room, but she refused to admit her cowardice.

  At their entry, everyone froze, all conversation stopped, and dozens of eyes were intent on them, one set seeming more focused than the others. Focused on her.

  The man was older, easily matching Keen’s father in age. She had no doubt the stranger was pushing through his sixties and closer to seventy. His hair was white, but there were hints of a familiar burgundy hue scattered amongst the pale strands. His eyes crinkled at the edges and the slope of his nose was one she’d traced when she was a child. Except, when she was little, it’d been on a decidedly female face. The lips were the same, the cut of his chin. His features were harder, sharper, but still very, very familiar.

  Terrence, it was obviously Terrence, the Southeast Itan and her mother’s brother. She wasn’t sure she could ever call him “uncle.”

  “My God…” The man’s voice was hoarse and filled with shock.

  Trista felt the same surprise, had that exact emotion clogging her veins and stealing her breath. But while he voiced his astonishment through two words, she had only one. One that she’d wondered from the moment the theory had been presented to her.

  “Why?”

  “You look just like her.”

  “Why?” She threw the word into the air once again.

  He grimaced and opened his mouth to reply, but she couldn’t hold back the anger any longer. Instead of waiting for a response, she tore herself from Keen and stomped toward him, her anger and grief filling her more and more with every step. Every struggling moment of her life coalesced into this moment, this time that melded the past and the present until she was before him.

  Tears coursed down her cheeks as she released her gathered fury and emotional agony. She yelled and screamed, but had no idea what words were released. But words didn’t matter, pain did. The pain she’d endured, the pain she’d lived and breathed through year after year. The pain of losing her mother and almost losing her own life.

&n
bsp; “Why did you abandon us? Why did you—” Emotion clogged her throat, stealing her breath.

  “I didn’t know.” His eyes were too kind and regretful. “If she would have come to me—”

  “She needed you. We needed you.” She didn’t try to disguise her anguish.

  “I’m sorry. If I’d known I would have—”

  “Fuck you!” She spat the words, flinging them without hesitation. “Fuck you and your fucking ‘sorry.’ She’d be alive if you’d helped her. She’d be—”

  She unleashed it all on the most powerful man in the southeast. And he took it. Took every bellowing shout.

  Snarls battled her yells, growls answering her sobs.

  It wasn’t until the scent of blood, not her mate’s but an unfamiliar male’s, hit her nose that she finally stopped. She gathered herself, pushed free of Terrence’s easy hold, and sought out her mate. No, he wasn’t bleeding, he wasn’t hurt, but the Southeast Itan’s guards were.

  Keen stood before them, his massive bulk having shoved everyone away from Trista and Terrence as she’d fought him. He had them cornered while the rest of the group was spread before them. One of the guards tried to venture close again and Keen batted the male away. At least her mate had kept his claws out of play.

  “Keen…” When George stepped forward, Keen raised to his back legs, stretching to his full height as he released a bellow louder than any she’d ever heard.

  That had Keen’s father easing back into the crowd. The others shifted, squirming beneath Keen’s temper, and she was so proud of her mate. He’d been so crushed when she was hurt and now his bear was doubly determined to keep her from any threat.

  Trista brushed Terrence’s presence from her thoughts and focused on her mate. She could beat on the Southeast Itan later. Right now, she had a mate to calm.

  Placing a hand on his haunch, she dug her fingers into his fur and tugged, snaring the bear’s attention. It turned to her with a snarl on his lips that he quickly cut off the moment he recognized her. In that instant he went from deadly werebear to a sweet kitten. Well, half-ton kitten, but he was still gentle as he lowered to four paws and turned so he could butt her stomach with his head.

  “I’m fine.”

  He huffed at her and nudged her once again and she rubbed one of his ears, earning a soft chuff. Movement from the crowd, one of the suited guards easing closer, had him swinging his attention to the approaching male. With another roar, he batted at the man.

  That had Terrence responding. “I didn’t realize you were all trained to be stupid,” he drawled. “If he’d wanted me dead, I would be. Some of you are mated. Don’t you know better than to threaten a were’s mate?”

  Keen grunted and she sensed the laugh lurking in the sound. The scent of blood reached her once again, the aroma fresh and still flowing. She glanced around the room, hunting for the person injured by Keen. The male was resting against one of the far walls, hands cupping his nose.

  “Keen? You shouldn’t have hurt anyone on my behalf.” She lowered her head and rubbed her cheek against his muzzle. “But thank you.”

  “Oh,” someone spoke up and Trista looked for the speaker. She found it in a younger man who looked to be hardly fifteen. “He didn’t. He broke his nose while running from your mate. Boom. Right into the wall. Crunch was kinda nice to hear.”

  “That’s your cousin, Bane.” Terrence murmured from behind her and she refused to acknowledge him. Not just because her emotions were in turmoil and anger rode her like a wild beast, but also because embarrassment was beginning to set in. It plagued her while also reminding her of everything she’d been taught by her mother. She’d assaulted the Southeast Itan. Uncle or not, she’d gone after a very powerful male and she didn’t want to think about punishment for such an infraction. “Bane is…”

  The thump of car doors shutting alerted them to someone’s presence. The confrontation had obviously masked their approach, but everyone was now aware of the approaching visitors.

  “We can discuss your cousins… everything… later,” Terrence murmured and then stepped around her and a still shifted Keen.

  People burst into movement then. They righted furniture and straightened clothes while someone ran off to find something for Keen to wear. In moments, Anna reappeared with sweats and a T-shirt for her son. As her mate dressed, she focused on Terrence speaking with George near the entryway. George nodded and moved toward the front door while Terrence turned to the room at large.

  “We’ll do this outside. Jessa, with me.”

  That was the first time she noticed the woman cowering in a corner, her features hidden by a curtain of hair. Isaac crouched nearby and extended his hand, assisting her from the ground. Her hands shook, knees wobbling, but she approached Terrence despite her unease.

  The Southeast Itan took her from Isaac’s arms and led her away. As if their disappearance was permission, they all filed after the couple.

  Keen tugged his shirt into place and then held out his hand to her. “Ready?”

  “No.” She had to be honest with that one.

  “Too bad. Let’s go.”

  She followed him for two steps and then stopped, tugging on his hand. He turned back to her and she released the words growing in her chest. “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

  Keen raised their joined hands to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “Anything for you, Tris. Anything.”

  * * *

  Keen would do anything for her including destroying the two men who slithered from Quinn’s vehicle.

  Adrenaline still rushed through Keen’s veins, pulsing and throbbing in time with his heart and the bear was more than willing to simply end Quinn’s and Malcolm’s lives if given the chance.

  They stepped outside in enough time to see the cocky, slick smile fall from the men’s faces. Fear coated Quinn’s features while a sneer overtook Malcolm’s. Both men were disgusting, poor excuses for bears. Keen admitted and accepted guilt for the mistakes he made as a teen, but these men had carried their hatred and disgust in their hearts year after year.

  “Quinn, Malcolm.” The Southeast Itan released Jessa and crossed his arms over his chest. “What can I do for you?”

  “Itan Jensen.” Quinn tilted his head to the side and dropped his gaze. A little past submissive and on to disgusting in Keen’s opinion. “What are you doing here?”

  Ooh, good question, wrong tone.

  Terrence’s response was swift and cutting. “Visiting my niece, Trista.” Malcolm gasped, his eyes widening, smirk falling away. Terrence kept speaking, ignoring the male. “The better question is what are you two doing here and why are you intent on causing a disruption in this clan.”

  “Terrence,” Malcolm spoke and even Keen recognized that use of the Southeast Itan’s first name was not smart.

  Trista curled into him, her body reminding him that she played a part in his drama. It’d been his enemy who set them on the path that ended the previous night. Or had it? They still had Reid locked in the basement and he hoped Terrence would handle that matter before he left as well.

  “Oh, you don’t get to speak.” The Southeast Itan pointed at two suited guards and gestured at the two men. “Hold them.”

  Both males struggled, but the much larger men held them with ease. With that, Terrence traveled down the steps, pausing long enough to assist Jessa down.

  “You two, as well.” The Southeast Itan captured Keen’s gaze for a moment and the bottom of his stomach dropped.

  He didn’t want to relive this. Not again. Trista squeezed his hand and he sighed. He didn’t want to, but with Trista, for Trista, he would.

  The path to the males parted and their small group moved forward until the four of them stood before Quinn and Malcolm.

  From there, the power that existed inside Terrence Jensen overrode everything. With the coldest voice he’d ever heard from anyone, the Itan spoke. “Quinn Foster, you’re charged with negligence, falsifying clan records, impersonating
a member of the inner-circle, and abuse of a member of the ruling family. Do not think about pleading not guilty. Your only option is to plead for mercy.”

  “But, I didn’t— Falsifying? Impersonating? Abuse?”

  The seething fury that whipped through the air nearly brought Keen to his knees.

  “Jessa is here to affirm she never spoke a word about a plot against you. In fact, she has publicly and readily forgiven Keen for what transpired all those years ago. Jessa wants to come home and I have granted her permission to do so. As to the others, do you deny that you’ve relied on first Trista’s mother’s help with your job? And then Trista herself? Do you deny orchestrating the attack on Trista? Do you deny any of it?”

  Quinn made the stupid mistake of opening his mouth and then Terrence was there, face against the cowering male’s, his temper swirling around the two men like a midnight tornado intent on destroying everything in its path. “Think before you speak. I will cut you down where you stand without hesitation.”

  Quinn whimpered and clamped his lips together.

  It was wrong of Keen to wish for the man to speak, to make the mistake of uttering a single sound so the Southeast Itan would end Quinn’s miserable existence.

  Then Malcolm erred as well. He shifted, a slight twitch of muscle that caused his clothes to rustle. It drew Terrence’s attention and brown fur suddenly coated Terrence’s neck.

  “And you… I find it interesting that the child of a dead woman stands beside me. The child of a woman who supposedly died thirty years ago. You found her, didn’t you, Malcolm? You traced my sister through the territories and there was nothing left to bury, you said. She was taken by hunters, you said. All you had for me was her jewelry and a tattered, bloody dress.”

  Trista went slack beside him, her knees buckling, and he caught her by the waist before she could fall. “Stay strong, Tris.”

  Terrence’s attention strayed to them for a moment, but he quickly refocused on Malcolm. “I mourned her, Malcolm. I knew she didn’t want to mate you and she ran. She was young and I was stupid enough to think I could force her to do something she obviously detested.” The man’s face twisted and he fought the guards holding him steady, but he couldn’t escape. “I let you hunt her, but she wasn’t dead, was she? She fought you and I know you hurt her enough to make her bleed. And because of you, because you damn near killed my own blood, she was too scared to come to me.”