The Angel Hunt

by Michelle Madow

  “So that’s all that kiss was to you?” His words felt like knives in my heart, and I placed my hands on the back of the other armchair to steady myself. “Part of a job?”

  “Maybe.” He tilted his head, challenging me. “Why?”

  “It just…” I swallowed and looked down, gathering the courage to say it. Once I did, I looked back up at him, trying to sound confident and cool—even though I felt the exact opposite. “It felt like more than that to me.”

  “Hm.” He took out his knife and started rotating it in his hands. “What did it feel like to you?”

  I almost blurted out that it was the most intense kiss—no, the most intense experience—I’d ever had in my life. But he was acting so blasé about it. So I stopped myself.

  I couldn’t bear my soul to him only to have him crush it in return.

  But how could a kiss like that have been one-sided? It couldn’t have been. If it were, then Noah had gone into the wrong profession. Because that kiss was Oscar worthy.

  But admitting what I truly felt and finding out that it was just an act for him—his “playing his part” to keep me safe—would make me look pathetic and desperate. So I needed to be cool about this. I needed to let him know that the kiss meant something to me, but not so much that if it meant nothing to him, things would be weird between us for the rest of the hunt.

  Why was it always so easy to be cool around guys who were my friends, but so difficult when I felt more? This was why I’d never had a serious boyfriend. Because the minute I actually had feelings for a guy, I turned into the biggest loser on the planet.

  But the longer I stalled, the more awkward this was becoming. I needed to say something. Now.

  “It meant something to me,” I said simply. “I felt something between us.” I shrugged, knowing I also needed to give him an out in case he didn’t feel the same way—which was the possibility I was bracing myself for. “But if you didn’t, that’s cool. I’d just rather know so it doesn’t happen again.”

  He said nothing for a few seconds—he just watched me with eyes so intense that I wanted to melt into the floor. My heart pounded a million beats a second, and I needed him to say something so this silence between us could end.

  “I kissed you to keep the demon away from you,” he finally said. “But you’re right—there were other ways I could have done that. Ways that wouldn’t have confused you. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  My heart fell to the floor. “So it meant nothing to you,” I said, sounding as hollow as I felt.

  “You’re a human,” he said—as if I needed reminding. “I’m a shifter. Someday I’ll imprint on a shifter, she’ll imprint back on me, and we’ll become mates. You and I could never work. Kissing you was a mistake, and I promise it won’t happen again. You have my word.”

  My breath caught in my chest when he said that kissing me was a mistake. There were a lot of ways he could have told me he didn’t return my feelings… but that was unnecessarily harsh.

  Tears welled in my eyes, and I swallowed, unsure if I’d be able to speak without crying.

  But I had to. I needed to leave this room with my dignity still intact.

  “Thank you for your honesty,” I said, somehow managing to force the tears down. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you for training tomorrow.”

  I didn’t wait for his response.

  Instead, I turned on my heel, the first tears rolling down my face as I hurried into the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind me.

  Sage

  I tried to take my time in the shower, since Raven and Noah clearly needed to talk about what had happened between them at the bar. The suite was big, but it wasn’t so big that any of the rooms were outside my range of hearing. The running shower water was as close as I could get to drowning them out to give them privacy.

  When I came out of the bathroom, Raven was curled up in the bed in tears.

  Crap. I was not good at dealing with crying girls. I’d been born and raised into a pack of fierce wolves, and I was the beta of the Montgomery pack—the second most dominant wolf in the pack. The submissives were the ones who provided comfort whenever a fellow pack member was upset. My pack mates came to me for leadership and motivation, not for comfort.

  To say that I was unprepared to deal with a crying human girl was the understatement of the century.

  But here we were, so I had to try.

  “Raven?” I said softly, sitting down on my side of the bed. I left as much room between us as possible, not wanting to intrude on her personal space. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She sniffed and sat up. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were puffy—she looked far from fine.

  I shifted uncomfortably. “Is this about Noah?” I asked.

  “No.” She looked down at the bed, not meeting my eyes.

  It was a lie. I couldn’t say for sure—I couldn’t smell lies like I could smell fear or sadness—but something had happened during the conversation they’d just had that made her come to the room crying by herself.

  She smoothed her hair and wound it around her finger. “I’ve just been through a lot recently, and I think it’s all catching up at once,” she said, her voice wobbly and unsure. “I’m going to get ready for bed and go to sleep. I’ll feel better in the morning.”

  She hurried to the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

  I had no idea what was going on, but I marched out of the bedroom to find Noah, determined to find out.

  Noah was sprawled out on one of the big armchairs near the fireplace, staring emptily into the flames. He looked broken and distraught—the same way he’d looked when I’d met him for the first time at that sketchy underground shifter bar in LA.

  He glanced at me when I walked in, disappointment filling his eyes.

  Had he expected me to be Raven?

  “Patio,” I said, pointing to the door that led outside. While human hearing wasn’t as good as shifter hearing, Raven would probably be able to hear us from the bedroom—but she wouldn’t be able to hear us from the patio. “Now.”

  He pushed himself out of the chair and followed me outside, looking dazed as he walked.

  Whatever had happened between him and Raven must have thrown him for a real loop. And while I wasn’t an expert at comforting, I was good at talking sense into people and advising them on how to fix whatever they’d messed up.

  Once we were both outside, I shut the door tight, making sure there was no chance Raven could overhear. Then I turned to Noah, who had his hands on the balcony and was gazing forlornly out over the skyline of the city.

  I’d come out here under the assumption that he was leading Raven on. I was prepared to tell him to stop playing with her heart, because it could screw up our mission. But judging by the tortured expression in his eyes, he was just as upset as she was.

  This was more of a mess than I’d anticipated.

  I sat down on one of the seats and made myself comfortable, preparing to be out there for a while.

  “You kissed Raven at the bar.” I figured it was best to start by laying out the facts. “Now you’re brooding out here and she’s crying in the bedroom.”

  He stiffened when I said she was crying—as if the thought of it physically hurt him.

  “What’s going on between the two of you?” I asked.

  He turned to face me, pure torment in his eyes. “I imprinted on her,” he said in wonderment, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

  “What?” I looked at him like he was crazy. Because that’s exactly what that statement was. Crazy. “You couldn’t have,” I said. “That’s impossible.”

  “I know,” he said. “But I did.” He walked toward me, his steps as sure as ever, and sat down in the seat across from me. “I’ve felt a pull toward her since the moment I saw her on the Pier. I didn’t think much of it until we brought her back to the compound. Because the more time I spent around her, the more drawn to her I was. So I figured I’d kiss her and g
et it out of my system. But you walked in before I could. In the pool house. Remember?”

  “Of course,” I said, thinking back to it. Her back had been against the wall, his arms pinning her in place. It had been clear what had been about to happen.

  I’d gone there to bring Raven back to my room so she could find some clothes to borrow. She’d pulled herself away from Noah to come with me, and during that time, I’d figured it was only fair to tell her about the imprinting and mating process. It didn’t seem right to let her get involved with Noah without knowing the facts beforehand. Also, since she was tagging along on our mission, I didn’t want there to be any unnecessary drama between them.

  “After she learned about imprinting and mating, she told me we needed to keep things professional between us,” he continued. “I agreed, because it made sense. But it didn’t make the pull I felt toward her go away.”

  “That’s why you’ve been so snippety around her,” I realized. “You’ve been frustrated.”

  “I guess.” He shrugged. “I was trying to respect her wishes, because I didn’t want to hurt her. But when I saw that demon hanging all over her at the bar, looking at her like he wanted to eat her alive… I don’t know what came over me. I just had this feeling that she was mine and I was going to show him that the best way I knew how. So I kissed her. And when I did…”

  “You imprinted on her,” I finished his sentence.

  “Yep.”

  I stared at him, not believing it. “But she’s a human,” I said. “You’re a shifter. You can’t have imprinted on her. It’s not possible.” I knew I’d already said it, but I had to repeat it. Because it was true. There’d never been any accounts of shifters imprinting on anyone other than other shifters… ever.

  “I know that,” he said. “But I also know what happened. I imprinted on her. She’s even used the empathy bond between us.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “I mean, neither of us ever told her about the empathy bond…” The connection between shifters when they imprinted and mated—the empathy bond and soul bond, retrospectively—was private between shifters. It gave mates an advantage in battle. Not even other types of supernaturals knew the details about it. So while I liked Raven, obviously it wasn’t something we’d shared with her, since she was human.

  “I’m sure,” he said. “The first time she did it was when Leia was deciding which one of us should take the truth potion. Raven knew I didn’t want to take it, but she also knew that if she volunteered, Leia would turn her down and choose me anyway. So Raven tapped into the empathy bond and gave me the feeling that I should volunteer, which would then make Leia choose Raven. I felt that Raven was comfortable taking the truth potion—she wanted to do it, since she had nothing to hide. So that’s why I volunteered.”

  “Are you sure she used the empathy bond?” I was skeptical—it seemed unlikely that Raven magically knew about the existence of the secret shifter imprint bond. “Couldn’t you have had that idea yourself? And you’re telling yourself it was the empathy bond because you have feelings for her and wish you could imprint on her?”

  “It wasn’t a wish,” he said stubbornly. “She connected with me through the empathy bond. You’ve never imprinted, so it’s tough for you to understand. But I know what I felt.”

  I jolted back at his words. The reminder that I’d never imprinted on anyone was a sore subject, and hearing it said like that—like it made me incapable of understanding this important shifter experience—stung. Probably because I wanted more than anything to find my mate.

  Not all shifters my age were mated, but they’d at least imprinted on one or two others by now. The longer I went without imprinting, the more and more frustrated I got that it seemed like I would never have a mate.

  “Sorry.” Noah frowned when he realized he’d upset me. “I didn’t mean to be harsh. But imprinting is something you can’t understand until you feel it. I could feel her. She projected her desires upon me, and I knew what to do. And she did it again when we first got back to the hotel, when we were discussing using her as bait. I was prepared to lie and tell her that what she did wasn’t helpful. I wanted to keep her safe. But I got this strong feeling from her that she needed me to be honest with her. So I was. That’s why I was wrangled into giving into this crazy plan of hers at all.”

  “Okay.” I paused, taking a few seconds to absorb everything he said.

  Noah wasn’t the type of guy to make something like this up. If he was telling me he’d imprinted on Raven, it was the truth. And he looked so torn up about it that I could tell he needed a friend more than ever. So I had to try to help him—even though I had no idea what to make of this, either.

  “So, you imprinted on a human,” I said, feeling like it was as good of a start as ever. “The question is—how?”

  Sage

  “I have no idea,” he said. “I was hoping you might know something that might help explain.”

  “I’m as baffled by this as you are,” I said honestly. “It shouldn’t be possible.”

  “But it happened.” He shrugged, as if he still couldn’t believe it.

  “I know.” I sat back in the chair and took a deep breath. I’d always been particularly interested in imprinting, since it was something I wanted to happen to me more than anything. But there were literally no instances that I knew of when a shifter had imprinted on someone who wasn’t a shifter. “Maybe you’ll find an answer in Avalon,” I said, since it was all I could come up with right now. “If anyone might know something, it’s an angel.”

  “Annika’s a new angel,” Noah pointed out. “She thought she was human up until a few months ago.”

  It always amazed me that Noah was on first name basis with the Earth Angel. According to him, the Earth Angel wasn’t one for prestigious titles, but still. It was pretty cool.

  “She still might be able to help,” I said. “And if she can’t, there are others on Avalon. Vampires. Some of them have lived for centuries—maybe one of them will know something.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “But I need you to promise you won’t say anything to Raven.”

  “Why?” I asked, but the answer hit me quickly. “Never mind—I get it. You want to be the first one to tell her. Duh.”

  “No.” Steely determination filled his eyes. “I don’t plan on telling her at all.”

  “What?” I shook my head, sure he must be joking. “No. You have to tell her.”

  “I don’t have to do anything,” he said.

  “But… you imprinted on each other,” I said. “She needs to know.”

  “We didn’t imprint on each other,” he said. “I imprinted on her. There’s a difference.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Imprinting is always a two-way street.”

  “It’s a two-way street between shifters,” he said. “Shifters can imprint—humans can’t.”

  “So what… you think she didn’t imprint back on you?”

  He glanced down at his feet, his features twisted as if his heart had just been ripped out of his chest. He got a grip on himself a second later, but it was obvious—Noah was in serious pain over this.

  I felt awful for him. “After everything you went through in the Vale, you deserve happiness,” I said. “Why would you risk throwing that away by not telling her the truth?”

  “You might think I deserve happiness, but apparently the universe disagrees,” he said. “Because when you were in the shower, I asked Raven what it felt like for her when we kissed. She said she felt something, but that if I didn’t, she was cool with that as long as we agreed not to let it happen again.”

  “She said that?” I didn’t believe it. “Or is that how you perceived it?”

  “Those actual words came out of her mouth,” he said. “So I know she didn’t imprint back. If she did, she wouldn’t be ‘cool with it if I didn’t feel something, as long as it didn’t happen again.’ Because just knowing that it can’t happen again is eating me up inside. She’s
not experiencing what I am. Trust me.”

  “Hold up,” I interrupted, holding a hand up to stop him from brooding about this any further. “Why, exactly, can’t it happen again?”

  He stared at me like I was an idiot. “Because she didn’t imprint back,” he said.

  “But she said she felt something,” I said. “Maybe she just said the rest to soften the blow in case you didn’t feel anything back. So why deny your feelings for her? Why not let it play out and see what happens?”

  “You obviously haven’t done as much thinking about this as I have,” he said.

  “Obviously not.” I sat forward and clasped my hands together on my lap. “So please, enlighten me. Because right now it just seems like you’re creating drama where there doesn’t need to be any. And really, the last thing the three of us need right now is more drama.”

  “I imprinted on her, and she didn’t imprint back,” he said. “There’s no way that can end well. So nothing can happen between us.”

  “Are you forgetting that she’s crying in her bed now?” I asked, pointing my thumb toward the room. “She wouldn’t be crying if she doesn’t care.”

  “Let me spell it out for you,” he said. “Humans can’t imprint back, which means it would be impossible for us to mate. You and I both know that unmated shifters can imprint on more than one person at once. So I could be imprinted on her, we could decide to date, and then I could imprint on someone else—a shifter who could be my mate. Even if Raven and I loved each other, it would be my instinct to choose a potential shifter mate bond over a one-sided human imprint bond. Raven would be getting herself invested in a relationship doomed to fail. I don’t want to put her through that.”