Warrior Untamed

by Shannon Curtis

  Griffin shook his head. “No.”

  “Yes.” Amelie’s eyes welled with tears. “I have already lost Hunter and his brother to this man once, Griff. I should have done something, all those years ago. I can’t just sit by and let Arthur do this.”

  Griffin gazed at his mother, and his eyes shifted to stare blankly toward Melissa as she and her brother drew up close to the stairs of the dais. He was silent for a moment, thinking, assessing, before he finally leaned forward in his chair.

  “I’m sorry, Mother, but I won’t risk any more of our Old Irondell family than we’ve already lost.”

  Melissa blanched as Griffin rose from his seat. “I offer no protection to Hunter Galen. He has no claim to Old Irondell.”

  “Griffin! What you do...” Amelie shook her head in horror. Griffin stepped toward his mother and clasped her hands.

  “Trust me to know exactly what I’m doing,” he told her quietly. He turned to face Melissa and her brother, and Dave stepped forward, thrusting his hand out.

  “Dave Carter—” He glanced at his sister and Melissa shrugged, as he had no formal title to add to the speech. Dave shrugged. “Tattoo Artist Extraordinaire, formally requests—”

  “Save it. Parlay, I know.” Griffin nodded. “You wanted to find your sister, she wanted to find you, you’ve both found each other, everyone’s happy, you’re free to leave,” he said, and bowed. When he straightened, Melissa stepped forward.

  “Are you seriously not going to look for your brother?” she asked.

  Griffin nodded. “Seriously. And flippantly.” He turned to go, but Melissa touched his arm.

  The Darkken Guardian Prime stepped forward, but halted when Griffin held up his hand. “Yes, darlin’?”

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” she whispered.

  The albino tilted his head, and his unblinking gaze met hers. His brows pulled into a slight V. “I’m curious. Tell me.”

  “It means that while Hunter was a guest in your home, one of your kind betrayed your hospitality, and your will.”

  Griffin didn’t blink, but smiled tightly. “As I said, you’re both free to go.” He stepped back, arms out. “Hear this. The witches have free passage to leave. They will not be bothered.”

  He strode toward the exit, and Amelie stepped down off the dais. “Griff,” she called in protest.

  The Dark Lord held up a hand but didn’t stop. “Can’t talk now, Mother. You know how it is. Things to do, people to see. Old Irondell doesn’t run itself.” The albino strode from the hall, his Guardian Prime following behind.

  Melissa covered her mouth. Hunter’s brother wasn’t going to lift a finger to help him. Dave glanced between Melissa and the doorway.

  “Why do I feel like I’m missing something?” he inquired.

  “Hunter’s father is the one behind the attack on my store,” Melissa informed her brother, and started striding down the hallway to the main exit. The Darkken crowd parted. True to their leader’s word, neither she nor her brother was hassled as they left the hall of the Dark Lord. “He’s come down into Old Irondell, looking for us.” She halted, frowning. “But will he still be looking for me, now that he has Hunter?”

  Dave looked back at her and shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. After what he did to you and your store, I’m going to look for him. He’s walking dead.” Dave started to walk toward the main exit, but Melissa grabbed his arm.

  “Wait, I can find him,” she said, looking down at the coiling ethereal ribbons.

  Dave arched an eyebrow. “You want to do a locator spell? Do you have something of his?”

  “Kind of. I have his mate.”

  Dave waited for her to continue, then his jaw dropped as he finally realized what she was saying. Despite his sunglasses, she could still read the shock on his face. “You didn’t,” he breathed.

  “Oh, I did,” she said, nodding. “Quite a few times, actually.”

  Dave clapped his hands over his ears. “Lah-lah-lah—”

  Melissa grabbed his arm and tugged him around the corner. “We go this way.”

  “You realize Mom is going to freak when she hears,” Dave muttered as he allowed her to drag him along.

  “She’ll be ecstatic,” Melissa corrected as she followed the bond link. “Which sucks. I really didn’t want to make her happy at all. She thinks Hunter is a valuable asset, and will be overjoyed when she hears the news.”

  “You might get a shock when you get back above,” Dave said as he trotted along beside her.

  Melissa frowned as she halted at a door. She twisted the knob. It was locked, damn it. “Why?”

  Dave drew her back, then placed his hands on the keyhole below the doorknob. He murmured something briefly, and an electric shock sizzled between his hand and the door. The lock clicked, and Dave twisted the knob, pushing the door open. He waggled his eyebrows. “Impressed?”

  “Hardly. You’re a witch. I’d be disappointed if a simple door lock foiled you.”

  “It foiled you,” he pointed out.

  Melissa shook her head. “No, I was winding up to blow it to smithereens.”

  Dave smiled. “Sometimes subtlety works better.”

  “I’ll remind you of that if we ever have to save your mate,” she responded brusquely as she stepped through the doorway and jogged down the stairs. “Why would I get a shock above?” she prodded her brother.

  “Well, a lot of shadow breeds died outside your store, and some humans died inside,” Dave said as he trotted along behind her. “They want justice for their dead.”

  Melissa didn’t stop, but she frowned at her brother briefly, and he held up his hands. “I know,” Dave said, “it wasn’t your fault, but Mom is in damage control.”

  This time Melissa did halt. “No.” Denial, disbelief, dismay—they all battled for supremacy.

  He sighed. “Yep. She’s negotiating.”

  White-hot anger coiled inside her, and she shook her head. “She’s going to be very disappointed when she realizes it’s all going to be undone.”

  “She’s your Coven Elder, Mel.”

  “I’ll withdraw from White Oak, if necessary.”

  “Melissa—”

  Melissa shook her head and continued. “No. This is it. I’m done. You’re not bound by the coven, so I won’t be, either.”

  “You know it’s not as simple as that. I’m different.”

  And didn’t she know it. Melissa had grown up knowing her brother was “special,” and not subject to their mother’s rules. All duty and obligation had fallen to her, as the only child of the Coven Elder inside the coven. But if Dave could live outside the coven, so could she, damn it.

  She lifted a finger, using it to punctuate her words. “She will get my loyalty, and she will get my respect, but only when she’s worthy. I’m not going to worry about it now, though. I have a bond mate to locate.”

  * * *

  Hunter opened his eyes, wincing at the jackhammering inside his head.

  “Ah, finally. You do so like to laze about, don’t you, Hunter?”

  Hunter tried to lift his head, but hissed as an iron collar singed his neck. He frowned.

  His arms were cuffed above his head, and if the burning at his wrists was any indication, he was bound by iron, chained to yet another wall. His shoulders felt like they were gradually tearing out of their sockets, bearing all of his weight as his feet dangled above the ground.

  Cuffs were overrated.

  He winced, trying to move his head without touching the collar to get an idea of his whereabouts. It looked like it was some sort of outdoor area of a tavern, covered over long ago. Tables with bench seats, flowerpots with nothing but dirt and what could have been a bar. There were at least a dozen men gathered, a motley crew of vagrants, vampires and a lyc
an or two.

  Movement caught his eye, and he finally caught sight of his father. Arthur Armstrong stood before a brazier, flames flickering through the grate. His gray hair was smoothed back, his blue eyes brittle as he met his son’s stare. He wore a suit, and was pulling on leather gloves. Hunter sniggered.

  “You’re a little overdressed for the occasion, don’t you think?”

  Arthur’s lips tightened. “That’s one thing I couldn’t really instill in you, wasn’t it? An appreciation for grooming.”

  Hunter shook his head, then grimaced at the hot kiss of iron on his skin. “You tried to groom me,” he said, and smiled. “But you failed.”

  Arthur pulled a rod out of the brazier with a gloved hand, and Hunter’s smile dropped when he saw the glowing tip. “Actually, you failed, son. I gave you the perfect opportunity. Ryder was going to go to prison—or die, whichever came first—and you would have been the sole Armstrong heir.”

  Hunter blinked, stunned at his father’s words, at the deceit in them. “You do realize I was there, right? In the same room? You know, when you admitted to plotting to kill both Ryder and myself to get your hands on our trust funds?”

  “One, that’s my money, I earned it. Two, that’s a charge I’m not guilty of,” Arthur said as he stepped toward him.

  “Only because you escaped from prison before your trial,” Hunter pointed out.

  “A prison you helped put me in,” Arthur remarked conversationally, then drove the hot poker into Hunter’s side.

  Hunter growled, hissing in pain as the iron speared beneath his skin. Arthur withdrew the poker and tilted his head to the side as Hunter panted.

  “I’m impressed. You’re doing your own dirty work these days,” Hunter gasped. Up until now his father had sat back like a master puppeteer, compelling and manipulating folks to do his evil deeds, so that he could keep his hands clean and claim innocence. Except for now. Hunter was almost flattered that he was the catalyst for his father getting directly involved, but the searing hot pain in his side removed any sense of levity.

  “You should know by now,” Arthur said as he turned away, handing the rod over to a vampire who walked back to put the iron poker back into the brazier’s flames. Arthur turned to face him, his hands behind his back. “We’re light warriors. I am your Prime. You do not punish me—I punish you.”

  “Punish me for what?” Hunter shouted, incredulous. “What did I do? God, you are such a dick. You kill Debbie, you conspire to kill your sons—you killed your wife,” Hunter spat. “You’re not normal, Arthur.”

  Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Ah, I see you’ve found your mama. Did you also meet the white whelp? Did you know he’s just removed you from his sphere of protection?” Arthur pointed to the vamp who’d lied to him to lure him out of his bedroom earlier that morning. “He’s renounced any ties you have with his family, I’ve been informed.” Arthur shrugged. “But I digress. Your mother abandoned us. She betrayed me, and she was going to birth another man’s breed. Can you imagine the scandal?” Arthur shook his head. “No. I’ve worked too hard, for too long, to have our reputation or standing tarnished by a woman who couldn’t keep her legs together.”

  “Please. It’s not like you’re some paragon of virtue.” Hunter didn’t hide the contempt in his tone, or his expression. Listening to his mother talk about her life, he may not have accepted her words immediately, but he knew, deep down, that living with Arthur Armstrong must have been hell for her.

  Arthur smiled. “I’m the Warrior Prime of House Armstrong. It’s my duty to spread my seed, to build a strong legacy. It was your mother’s duty to be loyal.”

  Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “Spread your seed? Hell, do you actually hear the rubbish that comes out of your mouth?” Then the words sank in, and he blinked. “Are you saying—do you have more kids out there?” Shock chilled his blood. He knew he was flawed, that he continually had to fight the darkness in him, but what if his father had had another child, one that didn’t fight the darkness? One that was just as evil and arrogant as his sire?

  Arthur nodded. “Of course. When I’m finished here, I will go introduce myself to my daughter. She’s been brought up by her mother in the wild, sadly, completely unaware of her true family.” Arthur shrugged. “It’s such a pity you won’t get to meet your half sister, Hunter. Just think, there is a light warrior out there, full of raw, untrained power. She’s unconstrained, totally free to indulge in her nature.” His father’s hand rolled elegantly. “Of course, she’ll need some guidance, some instruction, I daresay basic etiquette training will be a necessity, but I will make her my heir.”

  For a moment Hunter just stared at his father, unsure of how to process the wealth of information he’d just learned. He had a sister. A sister who apparently had no idea of her madman of a father, or her brothers. A sister who maybe had no other light warrior around to help her. And she would be his heir. Hunter accepted his father wanted to kill him, but there was still Ryder.

  “You’re still planning to kill Ryder,” Hunter said. His hands fisted, and he ignored the hot bite of the iron. “You are a sick man, Arthur. You need help.”

  Arthur sighed. “I’m your father. Call me Dad.” He turned and gestured to the gathered men, all filthy, grimy and waiting for his next instruction. “And I have all the help I need.”

  Hunter’s eyes rounded. “I will call you a lot of names, you sick son of a bitch, but I will never again call you Father.”

  “Oh, you think you’re such a good son?” Arthur exclaimed.

  “Yes,” Hunter responded. “As a matter of fact, I think I was a better son than you ever deserved. I tried so hard to please you, playing all those stupid mind games, working with you. Ryder left you. He struck out on his own, and I wouldn’t go along with all those strategic plays you wanted to do with your patients in your clinic. But you couldn’t handle that. You decided to kill your sons as soon as they started to show some independence. Do you know what that says about you, Arthur?”

  Arthur nodded at the vampire at the brazier, who stirred the coals. The flames danced and dipped. “What, Hunter?” he asked, his tone bored.

  “It tells me that you’re a scared little man who can’t allow his sons to separate from him because then it means he’s no longer their number one. It means you’re not as strong as you like to think you are, that if you can’t control with an iron fist, then you’ve completely lost control—and that means you’re weak.”

  Hell, how had he not seen this before? He thought his father was a cruel bastard. He’d never thought he’d be capable of all this death and destruction, though. How much of his father was in him?

  “Shut up,” Arthur roared, and gestured to the vampire. The vampire yanked the rod out of the brazier and strode toward him. “Shut up. You betrayed me, Hunter. You, of all people. You worked with me. You were by my side, nearly 24/7. I gave you a home, an education—a career, damn it, and this is how you repay me, by siding with your brother against me.” He grasped the iron poker from the vampire, and drove it into the top of Hunter’s left thigh. Hunter growled again, snarling at the man as he slowly withdrew the hot rod. His leg—the pain, the excruciating, burning agony, actually gave him a chill. Hunter realized his body was going into shock.

  “You really have a selective memory, don’t you?” Hunter breathed, beads of perspiration sliding down the side of his face and between his shoulder blades. He gritted his teeth, tried to ignore the pain, but damn it hurt like a bitch. He wasn’t healing. The iron was constraining his light force, including his ability to regenerate. He blinked, glaring at the man who even now handed the iron rod to the vampire, and he watched the poker get shoved once again into the coals, stirring up the embers. He shook his head. His father’s distortion of the facts was stunning. “You wanted to kill me, remember? Before my birthday?”

  Hunter blinked. His birthday. He�
�d turned thirty while chained to the wall in Melissa’s cell. Quite the nonevent, admittedly, but it had still happened. “My trust fund,” Hunter breathed. He frowned. “Is this about revenge, or about the money? This attempt to kill Melissa, to track us down...” He didn’t have a will. Had never really thought about it until the night his father’s plots were revealed—and then he’d been taken prisoner by Melissa, and there hadn’t been an opportunity to organize one. Not that it had been a priority for him over the last few months.

  “Melissa?” Arthur frowned as he thought, then his brow smoothed. “Oh, the witch. No, I was doing that as a favor to you. Nobody locks my son up for months and gets away with it.”

  Hunter tilted his head back, grimacing as the collar shifted around his neck. “Great. The ‘I want to kill you, but God help anyone who hurts you that isn’t me’ mind-set.” He wheezed with weak laughter. “You know, there’s a term for people like you,” he said, gazing up at the ceiling. He had no idea where they were, but he didn’t think he was anywhere near his brother or his mother—or Melissa. He swallowed. He was going to die. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to let his mother know he forgave her. He totally understood why she’d fled his father. He wanted to tell Melissa he loved her, tell her about the bond, and live a long and happy life with her. He wanted to repair the relationship with his brother Ryder. Hell, he even wanted to get to know his ever-expanding number of new siblings. But instead, he would die from being used as an iron pincushion. Perhaps it was a fitting end for all the bad things he’d done. Melissa’s face swam in his mind’s eye. He wanted to spend the rest of his life doing right by her.

  “What is it?”

  Hunter blinked. Arthur was standing in front of him again, glowing poker in hand. Had he zoned out, just a little? He knew he’d lost a lot of blood.

  “What?” He wrinkled his brow, trying to keep up with the conversation.

  “You said there is a term for people like me. What is it?”

  “Completely fu—” He broke off as the iron rod speared into his other side, and this time he bellowed with the pain before darkness swept over him, giving him some relief.