Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  “Kill the warg!” an old woman screamed behind Riley.

  “Come on, Adam!” another girl cried.

  Dragging his hat off his head, he tossed it without aplomb to one of his guards and raked a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. There was no vanity to the movement – there never had been – but Riley caught enough sighs in the crowd to understand his place in the community here. McClain might be focused solely on his purpose, but he looked like a hero –a god – to his people.

  There was a knife sheathed at his hip. Just one, the edge wicked-sharp. The bile in Riley’s throat rose at the sight, and she looked away. What could she do? She was guarded, and on the wrong side of the fence. Events had spiraled out of control, and she had no hope of reeling them back in.

  Or did she?

  Unable to sit and watch, she surged to her feet, toward the fence. “McClain!”

  Despite the roar of the crowd, and the number of women calling his name, his gaze turned implacably to hers. His hard mouth thinned, and he hesitated on the balls of his feet before pushing off toward her.

  “Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t do this.”

  Up close, he didn’t look so god-like. He looked tired, fine white lines webbing the corners of his eyes. Scraping a hand over his mouth, he surveyed the crowd. Anything not to meet her eyes. “I don’t want to do this, Riley. You know that. But he crossed the line, and I can’t forgive that. If I ever thought there was anything worth saving, then he took that hope away.” His gaze cut to hers, locking on with an intensity that shivered through her. “This needs to end. Now. Before more innocents get hurt.”

  “And Cole?”

  A haunted expression crossed his face. “In the warg cage. It was… a long night.”

  Riley understood. “Did you get any sleep?” she whispered.

  A long, slow look, as if wondering how much he trusted her. “Why does it matter to you? You made your choice.”

  The words bit like barbed wire. “Adam….” If only she’d come to know him before. To see this side of him before Wade eclipsed her thoughts. Grief bubbled in her chest. McClain was a hard man, but she was starting to see the walls he hid behind.

  “I don’t think there was ever a choice,” she said helplessly. “Not a conscious one, at least. And it doesn’t have to be like this.”

  “He made his choices.” McClain’s voice turned hard, and he took a step back.

  “Wait!” Riley grabbed onto the silver-coated wires, her heart in her throat. McClain hesitated, and she said quickly, “This is my fault. I told him about Lily – about Abbie. I thought it might give him something to live for, but I was wrong. I’m the reason Wade lost his temper.”

  “He’s a grown man, Riley.”

  “I know that,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m not absolving him. He made a stupid choice. A horrible, hurtful choice—”

  “And Cole is the one who’ll pay for it,” McClain snapped. “He doesn’t deserve this, Riley. He was an innocent. He’s got a goddamned mother and sister to support.”

  Riley tipped her chin up. “Kinda ironic, isn’t it?”

  McClain shut his mouth, his lip curling. Their eyes met, then he shoved away from the fence, giving her his back.

  Riley clenched her fist and smashed it against her thigh. Stupid. Saying something like that was never going to get her anywhere.

  Turning around, she eyed the vicious crowd. The sight only made homesickness rear in her heart. At Haven, there’d never been a spectacle like this. Wargs were taken out back and shot. She could understand, after all of the loved ones people lost, how they’d want to see some of their own gotten back, but the fascination with this duel seemed somehow sickening.

  Or maybe that was because she couldn’t see Wade as a monster anymore.

  Eden watched her with a sympathetic expression. “You don’t have to be here, Riley.”

  Riley took her seat, her shoulders hunched. “I don’t want to watch, but I have to.”

  “I know.” Eden breathed out slowly. “Trust me, I know.”

  Riley reached down and slid her hand through the other woman’s. No matter what happened today, one of them would be left reeling. Or maybe both, she thought. This wasn’t a win-win situation for either of them. “I wish this didn’t have to happen.”

  Eden squeezed her hand back. “Yeah.”

  The crowd suddenly erupted into a frenzy. Riley’s head jerked up. Wade had been shoved into the arena, his feet bare, his jeans still torn at the knees. He looked just as tired as McClain did, heavy manacles hanging from his wrists. Silver-coated wire mesh covered his hands, keeping him from clawing anyone else. Riley could see the blood and raw flesh from where the wire had cut and burned him. A necessary precaution, but a cruel one.

  She could barely see. Men and women were jumping up and down, shaking at the wire mesh of the fence. If there were no fence she half-suspected the crowd would go after him themselves.

  Riley swallowed hard, tasting bile, and Eden squeezed her fingers in sympathy.

  McClain lifted his arms, gesturing for everyone to settle. It could have been a dramatic moment, but he took no advantage of it. From the hard look on his face, he wasn’t looking forward to this.

  A pair of guards stepped forward with keys. One of them held a shotgun to the back of Wade’s head, and the other nervously fumbled with Wade’s manacles. He looked bored, his gaze raking the crowd as though McClain weren’t even there.

  Looking for someone?

  Riley stilled as their eyes met. She couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, shrinking back against the seat. The night seemed to have aged him. His gaze flickered to her right, then back again, and she knew what he was looking for.

  Slowly, she gave her head a tiny shake.

  The manacles fell away, and the guards scrambled back toward the safety of the gate. Wade let out a soft sigh, visible through the softening of his shoulders. “Thank you,” he mouthed to her. As he looked away, she thought he was done with her. But he gave McClain a hungry, lingering look then glanced back, rubbing at the raw marks on his wrist.

  It was as though he didn’t know what to say or do. This is what you wanted, she wanted to scream, sitting stiffly on her bench. She couldn’t look away. Neither could he. Thought raced across his face, in the way he opened his mouth as if to say something before thinking better of it.

  Finally, he shrugged, as if there wasn’t anything to say to her. “Look after her,” he mouthed. “Please.”

  Look after Lily. Riley straightened, her heart pounding in her chest. What the hell did that mean?

  “Most of the time, we don’t offer anything more than an execution. You’re here because I owe a debt to you,” McClain called. “Do you have anything to say?”

  Riley held her breath, and felt the crowd doing the same. Was McClain crazy? All Wade had to do was say one little sentence. Tell the crowd who’d clawed him up, and then this would be turmoil.

  Wade eyed the crowd, his black hair tangling over his eyes. With his dark looks and bleak expression, he looked hard and mean. Dried blood crusted his skin, and his shirt was torn in so many places she could see the ripple of his abdomen.

  “No,” he said finally. “No more games. Let’s get this over with.”

  Riley let out the breath she’d been holding, her heart sinking.

  He sounded tired.

  Claws out.

  Lucius ignored the hiss of the crowd as he crouched low, trying to turn all his focus to McClain. This was the moment he’d spent eight years trying to get to. Why the hell did he suddenly want it over with?

  Exhaustion stained him. McClain looked tired too, though no doubt for different reasons. McClain unsheathed his blade, the wicked ten-inch hunting knife strapped to his thigh, and settled into an aggressive stance. Waiting.

  This was the man who’d taken his family away. Luc’s lungs tightened at the thought. For a man who tried not to feel anything, the day before had been a mess of emotion. He’d walked
away from Abbie to spare her – or maybe to spare himself. That hurt was an old one, but the news of her loss had torn pieces in him he’d thought he didn’t feel. Guilt had kept him awake for long hours. If he’d been there, he could have saved her.

  He could have saved Lily from seeing that.

  As much as he wanted to hate the man in front of him, he found there was nothing left in him. Grief had burned him dry, left him hollow. And if he was honest with himself, as he rarely was, a part of him knew exactly whose fault Abbie’s death had been.

  If I hadn’t walked away….

  Whose fault was it? McClain’s for betraying him? Or his own, for not trusting his wife to love the monster he’d become?

  He didn’t like the answer to that.

  You never did, the devil on his shoulder whispered. But it was easier to blame someone else.

  A long night. A lot of thinking. A lifetime of thinking.

  He was tired of it.

  “Come on,” McClain snapped, shifting the knife from hand to hand and leaving himself open just enough to invite attack.

  Revenge.

  A shitty thing to live for….

  Lucius stepped forward, moving woodenly. He knew Riley was watching. He could feel her gaze on his skin, drilling into the back of his head. The crowd might as well not have been there, but he was hyper-aware of her. One quick glimpse burned her image into his brain – stiff-bodied, her lips thin, her blonde hair scraped back into a tight ponytail as she stared at him.

  And for the first time in a long time, he knew there’d been something to live for. Something other than the mire his life had become.

  Too late for that…. It was too late the moment he’d jammed his claws into that kid, and then looked down to realize what he’d done.

  Luc’s gaze narrowed on McClain. So he wanted to play defense, did he? Baring his teeth in a smile, Luc stepped forward, wondering how McClain would deal with the settlement’s questions if Luc scratched him.

  Sunlight gleamed off the blade and Luc watched it warily, half-hypnotized by the movement.

  “Come on,” McClain snarled. “This is the only chance you’ll ever get.”

  So be it.

  He danced under McClain’s guard, going straight for the throat. McClain’s eyes narrowed, and he swung out of the way, lashing out with the knife. It scored across Luc’s forearm, the pain shooting through him, and yet strangely distant.

  He couldn’t seem to keep his mind focused. As he staggered past McClain, blood spattering across the sands, he saw Riley on her feet, her fists clenched at her sides, and her face pale. The crowd roared its pleasure.

  Boots shuffled on the sand behind him. Too late, he turned. The knife darted like a stream of silver in the sunlight, straight for his chest. Luc blocked McClain’s wrist, forcing the strike high over his elbow. Curling his other hand into a fist, he followed through with a punch.

  McClain’s head snapped back to the collective “ooh” of the crowd. McClain staggered back, gathering his feet, and shaking his head. It was the best chance Luc had, but somehow he lost it. The image of that kid’s shocked face as Luc had slashed his throat flashed through his mind.

  Blood trickled from a cut on McClain’s lip. His eyes narrowed and he shifted his grip on the hilt, crouching low. Both of them had drawn blood now.

  Luc had dreamed of this fight for years, playing each blow over in his mind, thinking about McClain’s weaknesses and strengths. In his imagination, he’d been brutally focused, waiting only for the right opportunity before he could finally end this. He’d anticipated victory, the chance to stand over McClain’s body with the weight lifted off his shoulders as he smiled. Instead, he felt hollow.

  Each movement seemed to come from outside him. He felt as though he was watching as his hand lashed out, claws raking through McClain’s shirt and catching nothing but fabric. Then the knife was in the center of his vision, the razor edge of it kissing his cheek with white fire. There was a chance for it to cut deeper, but Luc rolled his shoulder and threw the other man off him.

  They fell apart, breathing hard. McClain had always been good at what he did. Quick, efficient and brutal. He’d approached each hunt with the focus of a man determined to finish his duty. Not once had Luc seen hesitation in his eyes, the way it was now.

  And the grim truth. He could have had me then.

  McClain stalked forward, the knife held low against his thigh, as if to disguise the movement. They danced around each other, ignoring the scream of the crowd. Then McClain came after him with a brutal swing of the knife.

  Wade grabbed his wrist as he melted out of the way, using McClain’s momentum against him. He smashed the other man against the silver-coated fence, face first. McClain flinched, jerking away with the wire-burn imprinted on his face.

  The knife was gone. Luc’s claws had somehow retracted. He shoved McClain’s back against the fence and planted a fist in his gut. McClain wilted over the blow, his hands clinging to Luc’s hips.

  “You son of a bitch,” Luc snarled. He smashed his knee into McClain’s face, rewarded with a roar of pain and a gush of blood from the man’s nose.

  A foot hooked behind his own. McClain’s eyes were hot with fury now, and he jammed an elbow into Luc’s face. The world turned white for a moment, and then he hit the ground hard, McClain on top of him. They rolled, dust stirring up around them as each tried to gain the upper hand.

  Light reflected off something at the corner of his vision. The knife. Luc looked down, his hands curled around McClain’s throat as they came to a halt. McClain’s hand shot out, reaching for it... and falling short.

  This was it. His chance. Luc’s claws slashed out and he lifted his hand high, gaze locked on McClain’s.

  “No!” a little girl screamed.

  The word went through him like a spear of ice, freezing time and sound, taking him back years into the past. Luc’s head lifted, as if in a dream, and he looked up through the wire mesh that surrounded the makeshift arena.

  A little girl stood in the aisle, her blue eyes shining with tears, her fists clenched in the fabric of her skirts. The light gleamed off her blonde hair, tumbled carelessly over her shoulders. Perhaps nine or ten. Far too young to be there.

  God, she looks like her mother.

  His heart seized at the thought. He hadn’t seen her since she was two, and yet he knew, with a father’s knowing, that she was his. He’d rocked her to sleep as a baby, picked her up each time she fell, and kissed her bloodied knees.

  “Lily,” he whispered.

  Her gaze wasn’t on him at all. “Adam,” she mouthed silently, her face twisting with grief.

  The word struck him like a punch. What was he doing? He felt his claws retract again, his hand hovering in the air. In that split second, he realized something – Lily had lost her mother, and McClain was the only father she knew. Kill McClain, and she would hate him forever.

  Her father died long ago. Let her believe that. Let me give her this, for all the times I’ve never been there.

  Movement shifted. Luc looked down as McClain finally grabbed the knife and swung it up toward him. He could have stopped it. There was a moment there where he could have blocked the blow.

  And didn’t.

  The knife slid into his side with a whisper. The shock of it clenched every muscle in his body as he slumped. He swore, hot blood splashing onto the sand. The world spun as McClain rolled them, grabbing Luc by the throat and lifting the knife again. The crowd roared. Someone screamed. Riley? Maybe... He couldn’t tell. The world was growing hazy, his side a mess of heat and pain.

  Then the knife froze. Luc’s gaze jerked to McClain’s, and his gut clenched as he saw the hesitation, the conflict.

  “Do it,” he whispered.

  The hand at his throat was shaking. “You fucking bastard,” McClain snapped. “You had me. You fucking had me.”

  Luc fumbled for McClain’s hand. “Do it,” he snapped. “Then you look after her. You look after t
hem both.”

  The crowd was on its feet, chanting for McClain, who looked up, the knife lowering an inch. Luc saw the chance slipping through his fingers. “Don’t,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll come again, you know I will. I’ll make you regret this,” he hissed desperately, mind racing for a reason to force McClain’s hand. “I’ll take Eden.”

  The knife lowered. McClain suddenly stabbed it viciously into the sand beside Luc’s head. “No, you won’t,” he said hoarsely, and then staggered to his feet.

  The weight of his body was suddenly gone. Luc sucked in a hiss as pain flooded through him. He curled up onto his side, holding the gash between his ribs. Blood wet his fingers, but he could see where it was clotting. Already healing.

  “Come back,” he called. Damn you.

  “What’s going on?” someone in the crowd yelled. “Kill it, Adam!”

  McClain walked away from him.

  No! “You fucking coward!” Luc shoved to his knees, watching McClain’s wide back stiffen. In a sudden surge of thwarted rage, he grabbed the knife and wrenched it from the sand.

  McClain turned as Luc staggered to his feet. Their eyes met. And McClain opened his arms in a gesture of surrender.

  Calling his bluff.

  “Here’s your chance,” McClain said quietly. “You either take it now, or you leave, and you don’t come back.”

  The crowd fell silent. Luc looked around, his vision a blur. His gaze locked on Riley, who was clinging to Eden’s hand. Those brown eyes met his, silently pleading with him.

  “Please don’t,” she whispered, though the sound of it was lost in the growing murmur of the crowd.

  He could barely feel the knife in his hand. His fingers were numb. Then they opened, and the dagger hit the sand beside his feet. He looked down, unable to comprehend what was happening. This was everything he’d wanted. Wasn’t it? Panic suddenly choked him. If he couldn’t have this, then what the hell did he have to live for?

  A shitty way to live....

  He couldn’t breathe all of a sudden. The crowd blurred as he looked up, and he sought instinctively for Lily. She was crying as a man tried to lead her away, struggling to see over her shoulder if McClain was okay. Luc scraped a hand over his face. “Agreed,” he choked out. For Lily’s sake... and for Riley.