She had nothing to be embarrassed about, but still Damon smirked as though her reaction was anything other than complete exhaustion. She was off her game.
“I’ll protect her,” Nicky said.
She was about to cut in to say that she could protect herself when her brother nodded his head and traversed, most likely back to town.
“I can take care of myself,” she said, all of her mental protections in place as the wolf hopped back on. His answer was in starting the bike, and driving away from the beautiful acreage where Eire wanted to stay forever.
She’d forgotten, though. She’d forgotten the freedom of grabbing on for dear life as the wind whipped through her hair and life changed from something cold and dangerous to something free and wonderful.
Bikes had, at one point, been a second home for her. She’d grown up knowing that almost every month, she would have to pack up her homeschooling books and a few pieces of clothing, so that she and her mom could drive the three hours from Massachusetts to New York for her mom’s ‘meetings’ with her father, Lochlan. Always meetings. Eire knew now what their meetings had really been, and she closed her eyes against those negative thoughts. But at the time, she’d only known that her mom was colder after each of these ‘meetings.’
Detached.
Removed.
Unfeeling.
Not at all the woman she normally was. It had hurt Eire when she’d been younger. She hadn’t known how to deal with the ice then. She’d been just a child and her heart had been a beacon right there on her sleeve. When those sudden changes would come over her mother, Eire had learned to hide in her memories of the times she’d been able to spend with her brothers while her parents met for that week.
She had looked up to Damon, Zeke, and Loch. All three were full grown by the time she’d come around, but they’d never treated her any less for it. They were her brothers and they loved her for who she was. And all three had had motorcycles. Bikes they’d fixed up themselves. She’d taken turns riding on the back of their bikes, sometimes throwing her arms out and riding the waves of the wind at their backs. Those moments were like the breath that holds life together, and when her mom would get cold on the way home, she’d open her window, close her eyes, and pretend she was riding the wind once again.
An impulse came over her as she clung to the wolf at her front. She wanted to throw out her arms and feel that wind as it pushed at her. She’d have to hold tighter with her legs. She’d also have to trust her driver and let go.
She did neither anymore.
She neither trusted nor let go.
So, she squashed the feeling, the impulse, and her fists tightened around the wolf in front of her. His hand touched hers, in what she thought was comfort, but the touch was gone as quickly as it had come. Nicky didn’t seem like the type to offer comfort, and she didn’t need the comfort anyhow.
Eire had learned the hard way why her mom had turned cold after meetings with Lochlan, and she was now more cold than even her mother had been. Her own icy exterior never dropped, today and the times she used her gifts of Stone notwithstanding.
That had to be why she was so off. In less than twenty-four hours, she’d traversed, used those goddamned gifts of Stone, and hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep in her ultra cozy bed. And she was a downright bear when she didn’t sleep. She felt it. Gimp felt it. Everyone else seemed to think she was the same, but that’s just because they didn’t know her.
Not that she wanted them to.
She was good with being the unknown element. She was good with being the mysterious, cold bitch. Those various shields kept away, well, everyone.
Protection.
Her lack of people was a protection.
The bike moved steadily down the other side of the mountain, and even through the confines of the helmet, she could smell the sycamore and maple trees as they neared the end of their fall change. Their leaves were deep reds and oranges, but there was no green left, and there were piles of leaves lining the road all the way up the mountainside.
A gravel drive sat to the side of the road with a “Beware of Dog” sign hanging from a winter-rusted pole near the smallest mailbox she’d ever seen, and she smiled. Dog. So, the wolf was a comedian.
They turned onto the gravel that quickly smoothed out into a paved path with potholes smattered all over. She held on tighter, moving into his back. She could feel his animal heat through her green leather jacket. Heat that she wanted to fall into because of the physical cold outside.
The strong smell of pine needles and caramel rolled off the wolf. She could close her eyes and imagine getting lost in that smell. Eating caramel ice cream and sitting outside on a porch swing, wrapped up in a blanket as she smelled the woods around her and felt the morning sun touch her pale skin. She imagined herself in a cocoon of love and warmth and security. Things she hadn’t felt in way too long, as Gimp would say.
She usually ignored the Trow, but she knew she’d used a lot of her Stone today. That damn gift, although beautiful, broke things in her, created cracks in her shields, and now she was feeling the effects of those cracks. She cricked her neck to the side, letting go of the tension as the stretch moved through the tendons there, and she retrieved her hard exterior.
Novembers in Western New York brought on a variety of weather, but today it was near 30 degrees. It smelled like snow. And being the good Other she was, she let go of her deeper desires, and she breathed in the smell of the leaves falling around her. Their decay, along with the smell of the coming winter snow, soothed her.
She didn’t need the added issue of being attracted to a Clan member. She’d already calculated him as a potential weakness, and she would take the necessary steps to avoid falling into his games. She hadn’t missed his smiles earlier. The wolf wanted to play. Eire was not a plaything. She was the best Enforcer the Others had. She was a weapon. She was not a Clan member’s pastime.
They came to an opening in the woods, and she saw the yurt in camouflage green. She could tell it was large just from the outside. When she’d had to deal with Banshees terrorizing the city of Syracuse a few years back, she and Gimp had tracked the family to a hide out in the woods of Southern Vermont in individual yurts that were much smaller than the canvas heaven she was looking over now. It might not be on four wheels, but she loved homes that were different.
She’d grown up in a cape, and she should have been the happiest little girl. She’d never wanted for anything monetarily. She’d had dolls and food and more warm blankets than any one person needed, but there was only so much healing a physical object could provide. More stuff did not make a person happy.
In her case, she was much happier without all the shit lying around. She had her library made of classics, murder mysteries, and horror novels – no romance; a large chair to sit in; a full jetted bathtub in the back of her trailer that was honestly in the biggest room, her bathroom; a kitchen that had the staples; and a loft with the best bed in the world. Quality. She’d never been about hoarding physical things.
They hopped off the bike, and she looked glanced from the way the black sweats clung to his backside like a second skin. Devon was a big dude, but Nicky was a giant, and the pants were a little tight. Under his leather jacket, she knew he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and she shivered. Goddamn gifts of Stone, she thought. Sleep. She just needed sleep, and she’d get over these feelings she didn’t need…didn’t want…couldn’t afford to have.
He undid the dual flaps of the yurt as she got her bag, and she walked into the warmth. He had embers going in his fire and she wanted to chastise him for leaving his fire still burning, but she didn’t blame him. She loved the heat of a good fire. There was nothing like the heat from a burning log of cedar, maple or ash, even if she didn’t often need the warmth it provided.
The inside of the yurt was an open floor plan with three secondary areas hidden by beige canvas flaps. The first room they’d walked into was large and tall, probably about ten feet in height. The r
oom was warm from the wood stove, yes, but the brown leather couch with the orange and blue throw, the large beige chair with the white throw, the carpet made of brown cow hide, and the handmade wood floors made the room seem even more intimate and cozy. The kitchen was on the far side of the room, and a small wooden table sat in the corner clear of dishes. His stainless-steel sink, also clear of dishes and wiped clean, was laid in a sturdy looking slab of wood polished but carved up from use. So, he cooked.
His place had a lot of the colors she herself liked to use in her trailer. Of course, no one had ever seen her trailer, except for Gimp. And although the colors were the same, her trailer was messy. Dishes and dirty clothes and the few papers she had for cases she was working on.
“There isn’t much around, but the fridge has fresh eggs from the chickens and ducks out back, and there’s meat, butter, bacon, and some veggies from a local farmer.” She watched as Nicky walked to the three beige flaps that led to other rooms. He skipped over the one closest to the kitchen area, and the troublemaker side of her really wanted to see his room now, just because he’d bypassed it. “This is your room,” he said as he opened the second flap.
The small room was all dark blues and reds and there was a double bed in the center with a burgundy cover that reminded her of the blood from the scene earlier. Some would be worried about that comparison, but other than ice, Eire’s life had been built on blood and death, and she enjoyed the comfort of what she’d always known. Not to mention, blood was a diet staple for her, so not necessarily a bad comparison at all.
“The bathroom is right here.” He opened the third flap to a bathroom with a basic hand washing station and a standing shower. So, not a large tub, but she’d take warm water. “Warm water is scarce because I collect rainwater and local runoff from the upper mountain caps for most of my water.” Of course he did. She tried not to show her frustration. “But the water heater is a good size, so a five minute shower of hot water is possible. I’m trying to get a bigger tank, but I haven’t really needed it.” His tone was apologetic, and she felt like an ass.
She was a tough as nails bitch who liked to get to the heart of the situation as quickly as possible, but she didn’t want to seem ungrateful.
“It’s perfect.” Why the fuck had that come out all dreamy? She’d just wanted to make him feel better and let him know that his place was beautiful – even if he was lacking a large tub to lie down in. “I mean,” she said haltingly, “well, you’ve got a good place here. No tub. No hot water. But it’s cozy.” She took a breath. Who knew it was so hard saying something kind? “Thank you for offering your home to me. I know I’m not the best company.”
He stepped away from the bathroom, the flap closing as he let it go, and she noticed that he had small scars on his hands. She knew her look must have changed to show her questions, but he moved them behind his back. How had she not noticed them before? She never missed a detail. It was part of what made her good at her job.
She wanted to ask him about the injuries, but she knew the question would be unwelcome. More importantly, the question wasn’t pertinent to the case. She didn’t mind asking unwelcome questions if they were applicable to solving the crime. Of course, asking questions was in her nature. She loved answers. She loved having all the information she could before moving into a situation. But with Nicky, she was finding herself even more curious than usual. The wolf was throwing her off.
“You’re fine,” Nicky said. She did appreciate that he was a man of few words, but she knew the truth. She was shitty company. Gimp was never a man of few words. Trows were a rare breed. They were all male, and when they mated, their bond was even more deep, some said, than even that of fated mates. Someday he’d meet his mate, what the Trows called an anam cara, and maybe Eire would get a minute of peace. But for now, Gimp thought it was his duty to fill her days with blabbering, whether he was officially working a case with her or not.
“Well…thanks,” she added lamely. “I’ll just shower and head to bed. We can get a few hours in at least until tonight.”
He watched her for a second, and she thought he might say something, but he just cracked his knuckles on his right hand, touched the scar on his chin, tightened his jaw, and nodded his head. The scar on his chin shifted with the movement and she had a strong desire to run her finger along its length. She might have been totally off her game, but she wasn’t off her rocker. So, she shook her head to get rid of the fantasy, and she turned around.
“Towels are in the built-in closet in your room.”
“Thanks.”
Their conversations went from tense to awkward in a hot second. She needed to breathe.
She walked into the room, dropping her bag near the bed. The room wasn’t large. She was about 5’5” and there wasn’t much need for a ton of room. She grabbed a towel and rushed into the bathroom to wash the day off.
Five minutes.
That’s all she got.
She rushed through washing her hair and cleaning the dirt and blood off her body. She hadn’t realized, but she still had some blood caked to her hands from earlier when she’d healed Gimp. She’d only grabbed her to-go bag when she’d rushed back to her trailer. She hadn’t washed up at all.
She scrubbed now. Scrubbed it all off, and tried to scrub her body in place of scrubbing her mind of all the emotions that were still bombarding her from when she’d used her Stone earlier. When she’d scrubbed and washed as best as she could, she stood under the spray of the shower, letting the warmth of the water sluice down her skin in spikes of heat that loosened her frozen, tense muscles.
She clung to that warmth and drew it into her. She’d need blood soon. That was the best medicine for her current weakness, but sleep would have to do until she found a human. The water became cold and she turned it off quickly, rushing to her towel and picking up her dirty clothes from the ground. She wasn’t used to sleeping anywhere other than her place and the occasional hotel, so she’d forgotten to bring some fresh clothes into the bathroom. The wolf was probably in his room anyhow.
She stepped out into the living room and walked the foot to the flap of the guestroom. She couldn’t smell the wolf. He wasn’t in the main room, and he wasn’t in his own room. Huh. Maybe he’d gone running?
She changed into her ratty, blue Breaking Benjamin t-shirt, and jumped into the warm bed. She sunk into the mattress and adjusted the pillows behind her and breathed deeply. The bed smelled like the wolf. Pine needles and caramel invaded her senses and she fell asleep almost instantly…
The wind whipped through her dark hair, pushing at her skin and shifting scents her way – some new and some familiar and old as time.
Damon and Zeke never let her ride a bike without a helmet, but Loch was different. He loved the danger, and he loved Eire more than anything in the world, or at least that was what he always told her. He hated having their father’s name, and she’d always thought this had made him more wild than her other brothers. Where Damon was overly protective and Zeke was too serious and book-minded, Loch was one hundred years old, but he seemed younger in his rebellion.
She was twelve, and she knew she was different than her brothers. She was half human. Special. Her dreams of the goddess, her desire for blood, and the changing color of her eyes were only some of the signs she’d been experiencing the past few years.
Her brothers had already gone through their change, but even though she herself was an unchanged Other, Eire could feel that they were not the same as Lochlan Trappe. They were different than her. While she was made up of all of the worst parts of Lochlan, her brothers had escaped that fate, that curse.
She hadn’t gone through her change yet, though, and she was hoping she’d get a few more years. She wanted to be free just a little longer, to not start the downward spiral of evil she knew she’d inevitably fall into.
Her ride ended, but she closed her eyes tightly on the back of the motorcycle, trying to hold onto the moments in the wind when she’d been free
from her mother’s cold and from her future change. She slowly opened her eyes, her smile plastered on her face and no worries to hold her down.
A future of no worry was not her fate, though. Damon stood to the side of the road, jaw hard, a red slash down his face, and her fear increased when a deep urge to taste blood hit her. His blood would do her no good when she did change. Feeding was different for her kind. She couldn’t feed from just anyone. But the fear was there nonetheless because even having that desire meant the change was closer than she wished.
Damon had his “bad news” face on. A face she’d only seen one other time. The time her mom had stayed with her father for an extra week and it had taken her mom a month to come back to herself that time. A whole month.
Eire climbed off the bike, throwing on the cold she’d learned to take on herself, even though her own ice was more like thin sheets that were weak. She wanted to work on the sheets, but she was bad at hiding her emotion.
She liked showing emotion.
She liked it when Damon knew she was annoyed with him because his frustration was always countered by a slight smirk that said he really did find her entertaining.
She liked it when Zeke knew she was sad, because he always gave the best pep talks even if he did devolve into some sciencey-speak that she barely understood.
And she loved showing Loch that he was nothing like their father, because his smile, his perseverance, his devil-may-care attitude were what made him her best friend.
So, she was bad at putting on her ice like her mother had tried to teach her, but she did it now because she knew this was going to be bad.
Damon stepped off the curb and walked to her slowly and she was suddenly frozen. She couldn’t move. Because she knew. She knew what he was about to tell her. And she knew who was to blame. A rage boiled through her system that she had never felt before and her vision tinged green as she blurred past Damon.
She felt his arm reach for her as she sped up the stairs and to the room where she knew her mother was kept during the meetings with her father, but Damon couldn’t touch her now. Lochlan Trappe stood next to a bed covered in black sheets and dark pools of what she assumed was blood. She assumed it was blood because she couldn’t see the red against the black and her mom was chained to the bed, exposed, her skin covered in cuts and welts and old scars that Eire herself had never seen.
Rage Against the Devil (Wild Beasts Series Book 2) Page 8