by Laura Taylor
But mentally, he was also struggling to come to terms with his new dual nature. He didn’t really know what to expect from being a shifter, but from the way he’d seen the others behave, he’d come to the rapid conclusion that they were not simply human minds inside wolf bodies. They behaved with a true pack mentality, a ready aggression at the slightest hint of a threat, a willing deferment to the instructions of their leaders. He knew little of real wolf behaviour, but even he knew the basics of the social structure of a wolf pack, the way the alpha led the team, the cooperative way they hunted and cared for their young.
Now, after nearly a week locked in this cage, he was feeling decidedly irritable. He’d tried tuning in to his wolf side, entirely unsure about how to do so, but willing to give it a go, nonetheless, to try and work out the cause of his agitation. There were numerous, vague cravings he was feeling, but his lack of experience meant he was unable to determine the source of most of them. The strongest was the sense of having too much energy, of needing to go for a good solid run, or have a workout session in a gym, and he’d ended up just pacing the cage for an hour, the mindless back and forth doing nothing to ease his discomfort.
His ears pricked up as he suddenly heard footsteps outside the room, and when the door opened, he was surprised, but delighted to see Skip step inside. Since he’d given blood for her, no one had been prepared to tell him anything about her condition, and all he really knew was that after being shot, she’d had surgery of some description and had had a hard time recovering, the need for a blood transfusion likely only one of a variety of complications following her injury. He shifted almost immediately when he saw her, completely unintentionally, and stumbled slightly as he found himself back on human feet.
Silas was one of his guards at the moment, a surly man who refused all attempts at conversation, and he looked up in surprise as Skip arrived. “What are you doing down here?” he asked her immediately, and Miller felt his skin tingle as he registered the vaguely threatening tone in his voice.
But Skip seemed to either not notice his hostility, or simply chose to ignore it. “Visiting Miller,” she replied cheerfully. “Baron said I could.”
Was it his wolf side that was making him feel so protective of her, Miller wondered, feeling the odd urge to growl at Silas. But no, he realised. He’d felt that way even before he’d been converted, just after the car crash, when she’d been injured and he’d been desperate to make sure she made it to safety.
“How are you feeling?” he asked immediately, coming to stand at the bars.
“Better, now,” Skip replied. “Still pretty sore when I’m in wolf form, but over the worst of it. And thank you for the blood supply,” she added with a bashful smile. “What about you? Are they treating you okay?”
“As well as could be expected,” Miller replied, knowing that despite his restlessness, he had no real complaints to make about his treatment. He’d been given three meals every day, clean clothes, and even a book to read when he’d mentioned being bored. And despite Baron’s harsh demeanour and his obvious frustrations with Miller, he’d kept his word and refrained from any form of torture or physical punishment for Miller’s crimes.
But then he gave Skip a shrewd, knowing look. “You knew I was a shifter, didn’t you? After that night in the cave. That’s why you talked me into coming here.” In hindsight, it seemed so obvious.
Skip shrugged unapologetically. “Yeah. From where I was standing, there weren’t a whole lot of other options.”
“So all that talk about your lot scratching my back if I scratched theirs?”
“A necessary deception. You’re from the Noturatii,” she added, when Miller looked disappointed. “You must be familiar with the art of lying by now.”
“Touché,” he said darkly. The girl was far cleverer than he’d given her credit for. “It seems I underestimated you.”
“Twice, now,” Skip pointed out, looking altogether pleased that her deception had worked.
Despite a distinct lack of appreciation for being manipulated, Miller felt a certain admiration for the girl. For all her short stature and childish mannerisms, she clearly held a significant degree of social influence among these people. Aside from Silas’s initial question about why she was here, he’d said nothing more about her visit, and made no attempt to stop her from talking to Miller. Miller had also seen the way Tank had treated her in Scotland, like a younger sister, the target of good-natured teasing, but also a treasured member of the family.
And more than that, she had a disarming sort of confidence, combined with a baffling optimism, and he was certain that if she told him that everything was going to work out fine, he would believe her. She was also smart, expertly outmanoeuvring him without giving away even a hint of her intentions. There was nothing he liked more in a woman than a sharp mind, and he was somewhat surprised at himself as he realised he was entertaining the idea of developing a long friendship with this woman. And then more surprised when he realised how eager he was for that very thing.
“But not everything I said was a lie,” Skip added, sounding a touch defensive. “We’re still looking after you way better than the Noturatii would have.” Then she seemed to rethink that statement. “We are looking after you, aren’t we?” She was staring at his neck, and Miller self-consciously put a hand to where there was still a fading bruise from his fight with Tank.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “This was just a small misunderstanding. It’s been sorted out.”
“How are you going with getting used to your wolf?” she asked next.
Miller immediately looked uncomfortable. “Patchy,” he admitted, with a glance at Silas. He’d been aware of the man watching him intently as he’d paced his cage. “It’s uncomfortable some of the time. And I have urges to do things that I can’t do. Like running outside in the trees, or digging in the earth. It’s making me jittery.”
Skip winced. “Yeah, it must be rough, given that you had no training before you came here. But Baron’s a great teacher, so he’ll have you straightened out in no time.”
Miller raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Teacher? Teaching me what?”
“How to shift. How to accept the wolf.” Miller looked back at her blankly – aside from the barest instructions as to how to shift, Baron had taught him nothing at all – and then Skip’s optimistic smile faded, and she suddenly looked around his cage, though Miller wasn’t sure what she was looking for. She spun around and asked Silas, “Why is there no food dish in his cage? Has anyone been feeding his wolf?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Silas replied disinterestedly. “But he’s been getting three meals a day as a human, so he’s not going to starve to death.”
“Has anyone been teaching him about being a shifter?” she asked, more sharply.
Silas glanced across at Miller darkly. “You’d have to take that up with Baron.”
“I’m not asking you to run lessons with him right now,” Skip snapped, and Miller was quite surprised to hear her take such a tone with the intimidating man. And even more surprised when he didn’t snap back. “I’m simply asking if anyone has tried to teach him anything so far.”
“No,” Silas said, and from the look on his face, it was clear that he’d picked up on how upset Skip was about that.
“Fine,” Skip said, firm resolve in her voice. “I’m going upstairs to talk to Baron,” she said to Miller. “And I’m going to find out why no one has bothered to teach you how to shift, and then I’m going to growl at a few people until they come to their senses.” With a ‘so there!’ look sent Silas’s way, she marched out the door.
Miller felt a renewed wave of gratitude for her as he watched her leave. By Noturatii standards, this was five star accommodation, and he honestly held no grudge against the shifters for whatever their failings may have been. But Skip seemed determined to ensure that the usual standards of training, whatever they happened to be, were adhered to, regardless of who she had to snarl at to see it happen. S
he was turning out to be a most remarkable young woman, and Miller was more thankful than ever before that he’d taken the risks he had to save her life.
In the library, Baron was finishing telling Eleanor about Miller; how he had arrived at the Den, his conversion, and the intel they’d managed to get from him in the past few days. Caroline sat beside him, occasionally clarifying some point or adding an opinion, and Eleanor had listened patiently, but with no small amount of surprise when she learned they’d inadvertently captured a Noturatii operative.
“And… I don’t mean to question your judgement, but you’ve actually seen him shift?” Eleanor clarified. “You’re not just taking Skip’s word for it?”
“I’ve seen him do it with my own eyes,” Baron confirmed. “And Faeydir insists that, against all odds, he’s merged with his wolf. We had thought he was going rogue for a little while, and asked her to separate the human out of him, but she firmly refused on that basis.”
“Well, that’s unexpected, yes, but remember that no one really has a foolproof understanding of the merging anyway,” Eleanor pointed out. “Education and training certainly help, but there are always exceptions. Some recruits end up going rogue, no matter how much preparation they’re given, while others – take Dee, or Mark, for example – manage to merge with their wolves despite extremely limited training and very difficult circumstances. That Miller has merged with his wolf is unusual, but by no means outside the realms of possibility.
“As far as getting information out of him,” she went on, “it seems you’ve done the best you can, if there are certain things he’s not willing to discuss. It’s a shame he doesn’t know more about the international operations. If we could get some solid information on Germany, that would do us no end of good. If you wouldn’t mind, send through what you’ve learned to us. I’d feel happier if we got a couple of the assassins to check out some of the details, rather than letting you handle it – I have the highest respect for your abilities, but there’s the risk he’s lying about some, or all of it, and I prefer to have the weight of some serious mistakes on our shoulders, rather than yours.”
Baron nodded, not at all offended as he saw the pragmatism of such a decision. “I wanted to talk to you about what we do with him next. Keeping him here isn’t a workable solution, long term – it’s wearing us all out having to guard him all the time, aside from anything else – so I was hoping we might be able to arrange to send him to Italy.”
“On what basis?” Eleanor asked, surprising Baron. He’d thought it was obvious.
“On the basis that he can’t stay here.”
“Are either you or Caroline exercising your right of veto as alpha of the Den?”
Baron hadn’t really thought about it in those terms. “A veto would imply that he was a potential viable member of this Den. I don’t think that really applies in this case.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not like he’s a normal shifter, awaiting further training and a membership vote.”
“Isn’t he? He’s a confirmed shape shifter, he was converted from a registered bloodline, and he’s merged with his wolf.”
“He’s from the Noturatii!” Baron insisted, exasperated by Eleanor’s deliberate obfuscation of the issue.
“Then you should put him down,” Eleanor said frankly. “You’ve had the most experience in dealing with him, and if he can’t convince you that he’s on our side, then it’s extremely unlikely he’ll be able to convince anyone in Italy. With all due respect, we have plenty of things to do here already without spending weeks assessing a man who’s only going to end up being put down anyway.”
Baron glanced at Caroline. “We had rather decided not to put him down for the moment,” he said awkwardly. “Skip’s quite convinced he’s not going to betray us, as is Faeydir. She seems to think that the fact that he’s merged with his wolf is proof that he’s left the Noturatii for good.”
“And you don’t believe them?” Eleanor asked pointedly.
Baron hesitated. “Not particularly, no.”
“Then put him down. I can send an assassin to do it for you, if you don’t wish to do it yourself.” It was a genuine offer, not a criticism of his lack of willingness to take action, but rather an acknowledgement that sometimes these things cut too close to the bone, and so required a professional hand.
“Or, if that’s not a palatable option,” Eleanor went on, when it was clear that Baron wasn’t happy with that solution, “then put it to the vote. Ask your pack whether they’ll accept him as a member of your Den. If they vote no, which, given what you’ve said, is the most likely outcome, then you can send him to Italy and we can attempt to find another Den for him to join. But only,” she emphasised,” if you have a reasonable level of confidence that he’s trustworthy. I’m offering this solution as a work-around for a situation that’s emotionally fraught for all of you – Miller was directly responsible for the death of at least two of your members, after all. But I’m not suggesting it as an excuse to not do your job and put Il Trosa at risk as a result.”
In the privacy of his own mind, Baron had to admit it was a reasonable offer. Eleanor’s frank honesty was one of the things he admired about her. She was open minded and a strategic thinker, often working outside the normal methods of doing things, but she was also a no-nonsense, straight talking woman, always willing to call a spade a spade.
But it seemed Caroline wasn’t quite so on board with the idea. “You’re asking us to stand up in front of our entire Den, knowing that Miller killed some of our wolves just a couple of weeks ago, and ask them to let him stay? We’d have a riot on our hands.”
“You’re not asking them to let him stay,” Eleanor pointed out. “You’re simply giving them the opportunity to voice their opinion on the matter. And given that we both expect the answer to come back with a firm no, then it shouldn’t be an issue. Regardless of anyone’s emotional sensitivities, that is the proper procedure. And that is the only way you’re going to get the Council to take him off your hands.”
Baron glanced at Caroline, who looked as peeved as he felt. Why couldn’t any of this have a simple answer? “We’ll discuss the best course of action,” he said finally, knowing he and Caroline were going to have to have a long, hard conversation about what to do next.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Skip tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Baron outside the library. Apparently he was on a call to the Council – not something she could interrupt unless it was an emergency – but the instant the door opened, she all but pounced on him. “Why hasn’t anyone been teaching Miller how to shift?” she demanded, which pulled Baron up short.
“Excuse me?” he asked, no doubt equally surprised by the question itself, and the fact that it was being asked in such a demanding tone from such a low ranking wolf. Baron was not used to anyone questioning his authority.
“He’s been stuck in that cage for five days now, and he’s restless as hell, and Silas said no one has-”
“Would you like to rephrase that question in more polite terms?” Baron said sharply. And Skip took a mental step back, suddenly realising how uncharacteristic her behaviour was. She’d never been the type to make waves, and had certainly never before tried to go head to head with Baron, of all people. But oddly, since her night in the wilderness with Miller, she’d been feeling rather bold. She’d beaten the bad guys, secured her own escape from enemy hands, and successfully deceived a Noturatii operative for her own purposes. The thrill of power the realisation had given her was addictive.
But Baron was right, she reminded herself now. She was a low ranking wolf, and should have addressed him with a polite question, rather than an accusatory demand. “I went to see Miller,” she explained, in a far more reasonable tone, hoping Baron wasn’t going to get annoyed about it. Though she’d told Silas she had permission, she’d been fairly sure that if she’d actually asked, Baron would have said no. “And he’s behaving very restlessly, because he hasn’t learn
ed how to control the wolf, or how to shift properly. I thought it might be a good idea if someone taught him how.”
Baron folded his arms, her guilty admission not escaping his notice, though he chose not to comment on it for the moment. “Aside from the fact that we’ve been flat out dealing with your medical care,” he said pointedly, “we’ve also been spending the last few days trying to decide whether or not to put him down. Spending a lot of time and energy training him didn’t seem like a good idea, when it could all end up as a waste of time.”
Skip felt a wave of disappointment at the news. She’d assumed that since Miller had made it this far, he was more or less in the clear. “Are you going to kill him?” she asked softly.
Baron let out a long sigh. “We haven’t decided yet,” he admitted, lowering his voice and glancing around to make sure no one would overhear. “I thought it would be a lot simpler than this, but aside from the fact that you and Faeydir both seemed convinced that he’s trustworthy, he’s actually got the potential to be a serious asset to Il Trosa. He’s military trained, he held his own in a fight against Tank – for a while, at least – and he’s got the strategic planning skills to give even us a run for our money. So if he’s truly cutting his ties with the past, then…” He left the sentence unfinished, but Skip could fill in the blanks easily enough. For all the Den’s animosity towards him, it was entirely possible that he was too valuable to kill.
“We still haven’t quite decided what to do with him, but you have a fair point, I suppose. There’s no harm in helping him adjust to his wolf. I’ll send Raniesha down to start teaching him how to shift.”
“Or I could do it,” Skip volunteered. “Raniesha’s tired, cos she was on guard duty all night. And everyone else has been taking shifts, but I don’t have anything else to do right now…”
Baron’s eyes narrowed. “Why the sudden interest?” he asked pointedly.