by Celia Kyle
Rachel could feel the smug satisfaction rolling from Grant, but it was quickly countered by the freezing gaze of Sophia.
The woman’s lips formed a tight smile. “I see.”
Seeming to shake her anger, she turned that near-frown to a blazing smile and moved toward them until a low growl had her freezing.
“I’m sorry, Sophia, but in light of certain events, it’d be best we kept our distance as we work through this bit of unpleasantness.”
Rachel almost snorted. Unpleasantness was one way to put it.
“Unpleasantness? Surely, Grant—”
“Alpha Hemming,” he corrected smoothly.
Sophia tilted her head in acknowledgment. “Alpha Hemming, we’ve been contracted with the Hemming pack for centuries. I see no reason for that to change. Your father—”
“Is dead.” The wolf’s voice was flat, but Rachel could sense the anger and pain that coursed through him. They’d discussed their theories, the idea that both their parents had been killed by the vamps to protect the knowledge of the original agreement. They just had no proof. “I lead the pack and I won’t sign until it is discussed.”
“Your father—” The vampire tried again, her body seeming to vibrate with tension.
“I’ll say it again, Sophia, he’s gone. I make decisions for the pack and this won’t be settled until you accept my verdict.” Grant’s voice left no room for argument and even Rachel could feel the dominant power rolling off him. Hell, the order wasn’t directed at her, and she sure as hell wasn’t a wolf, but Rachel ached to make him happy.
The vampire harrumphed, but conceded as demanded. Because it was a demand. Grant held the power, whether the beautiful bitch accepted it or not.
With the other vampires fanned behind her, Sophia stared at their group, a look of feigned boredom in her features.
Gazing at the local clan’s leader, her undead eyes, a shiver of fear slid down Rachel’s spine. She was about to make an enemy. For life. Probably more than one depending on the wolves. But she wasn’t about to back down. She didn’t doubt that the woman before her, or others that ruled in the past, were responsible for her parents’ deaths.
Grant slipped his hand into his jacket and withdrew the sheaf of papers they’d been pouring over so diligently. “I have a few questions, Sophia—”
“I would have thought your attorneys would have answered your—”
“Quiet.” The power of his voice bulldozed its way across the empty space, and Rachel saw Sophia visibly shudder. “My questions are for you.” He turned to the page Rachel had highlighted. “It seems that the pack will be required to pay one billion dollars per anum.”
“It’s reasonable.”
“And the clan is asking for a thirty percent stake in Hemming Industries.”
Sophia nodded. “Again, reasonable. It would partner Lucre International and Hemming Industries. It’d be mutually beneficial.”
“Hmm…” The page was tossed aside as he proceeded to the next. “And in the event that the clan finds me unfit to lead, a replacement would be elected. Someone who could be either pack or clan. Is that my understanding?”
Low, rolling growls echoed across the space. They’d decided not to impart that tidbit on the sentinels prior to the meeting. Rachel’s heart rate picked up, and tendrils of fear slithered through her body as droplets of sweat formed on her brow. She had no doubt that the wolf beside her could detect the scent, but there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about its presence.
“We can’t have the territory—”
“I’m not finished.” Grant’s voice was low, controlled. “I understand your terms.” He nodded and let the remaining pages drift to the grass. “What I don’t understand is how you could think to make demands of the Hamr pack.”
They’d discussed this, the deliberate use of the old name. The wolves surrounding them were young, only a few centuries old, but the vamps were much, much older. And, based on the stiffening of Sophia’s guards, better informed.
“You see, this is not your territory as you would like all to believe. It is mine. We are not here on your good graces. Farleifr is here on mine. The original agreement is at an end, Sophia. I know it. You know it. And, I suspect that my father was aware as well. You have twenty-four hours.”
Spitting mad, eyes glowing red, the vampire flashed her fangs. “You are misinformed, dog. This place has always belonged to the clan and it always will. Who has spilled lies into your ears?” It felt as if Rachel’s heart would burst from her chest at any moment, but she stood fast. “Did your little witch whisper to you? You know wolves can’t trust the witches, puppy.”
Nothing but strength flowed from Grant. Even when his wolves flashed her amber-tinged looks of disgust, the wolf beside her didn’t give an inch.
“Sophia, I don’t believe you’ve met Rachel. May I introduce Rachel Marrok? She is the last surviving member of the Marrok watchers. I believe you’re fifteen hundred or so. You remember the Marroks, don’t you, Sophia? I believe you knew her parents, no?” Silence met his words, but Sophia’s face darkened to burgundy. “And I believe Miss Marrok has something for us.”
Refusing to lower her guard for a moment, Rachel recited the necessary words while keeping her gaze on the deadly vampire. “Once then, now again, with history and with present, the Marrok take.” She pushed and pulled at her unused power and shoved her compulsion into her next words, focusing on the document she needed, calling it from the ether. She drew it from its hiding place, the notes in her parents’ journals guiding her thoughts. “And the Marrok return.”
The power felt as if scurrying ants covered her from head to foot, millions of tiny pricks skating over her skin, and then the heavily aged scroll appeared in her hands. Darkened with time, the words were still visible on the ancient surface, the protection spell woven into its threads still firmly in place. But most of all, the original signatures were plainly visible.
With tired, shaking fingers, Rachel handed over the page, exhaustion settling into her bones. She’d never taken advantage of her legacy in all of her twenty-five years, never tried to do anything but that single spell that hid her from sight. Magic, evidently, was freakishly hard.
She saw a flash of concern cross Grant’s features, but it was quickly hidden by an indifferent mask. She almost flinched at the abrupt change but forced her doubts aside. He couldn’t show worry for her, not if she was to get out of the meeting alive.
Rachel was a walking, talking vulnerability.
Grant perused the document a moment, his eyes landing on the signatures and then he tossed the page across the space that separated them from the furious vampire. Rachel tracked its progress as it danced in the air.
“As you can see, Sophia, both Egil Farleifr and Gudmundr Hamr signed the agreement. Egil was your sire, no?”
Clawed hands reached for the page, and the vampire had the temerity to attempt to tear the delicate paper.
Rachel shook her head. “The Marroks aren’t that stupid, Sophia. Never have been. That scroll will survive for eternity.” She leveled her gaze on the seething woman.
“Unless all of the Marroks perish. And then it’s gone,” Sophia snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”
The pure hatred that coated the vampire’s features sent a bolt of dread through her, but she stood tall. The Marrok power wasn’t tied to a single person, but came from the earth, so unless the woman was planning on blowing up the world, the scroll was staying.
Rachel wouldn’t let the fangy bitch intimidate her. Not when she had Grant at her side, not when—
“Kill them.”
Chapter Five
Grant’s wolf shoved forward so fast, he was partially shifted between one rapid heartbeat and the next. Fingers became claws, his mouth elongated to a wolven maw, and his teeth grew to deadly, sharpened points. Gray fur sprouted and pushed through his skin. While his increased size, muscles growing and bulging, tore his clothing at the seams.
His s
entinels were soon in the same state. Eight wolf males ready to battle the vampires until they were no more than ashes.
He’d recognized Sophia’s escorts the moment they’d approached. What her entourage had lacked in numbers, they’d more than compensated for with abilities. They were four of the oldest vampires in her clan, second only to her, and had studied under many of the battle masters through the years.
Since he doubted Sophia would join the fray, his eight sentinels against four were decent odds.
The wolf demanded that Rachel be protected and he shoved his mate behind him, shielding her with his body. His wolves were engaging the vampires, the men going after the warriors in turns while the other two soldiers protected Rachel and him.
His men were well matched as arms seemed to slice through the air, collide with skin. Each strike was countered, followed and returned, his wolves neither winning nor losing.
Blood, both black and red, flowed from various wounds, but his pack never faltered.
Sophia spewed hatred and loathing, raging and urging her vampires toward triumph. Yet she didn’t take a step forward to assist her guards.
Growls, snarls and yells filled the area as the battle raged. His wolf kept him on edge but restrained. Rachel was his priority. His sentinels worked together to destroy the threat to the pack, their rage at the vampire’s attempted subterfuge fueling their fury.
Until one went down, the sentinel bleeding from a gaping wound in his stomach yet fighting to regain his feet. Carr was a good wolf, and Grant knew the man would fight to the death, if necessary.
One of the other men made it a non-issue when he stepped into the downed wolf’s place and squared off against the vamp intent on Carr’s death.
The bodies continued to engage in battle—slice, punch, kick, block, strike. Over and again the vampires and wolves fought. Blood flowed and coated the grass.
Grant’s wolf ached to roar into the fray, show the vampires that they couldn’t threaten his mate and live to repeat the words. His claws itched, nails thirsting for blood, but he held the beast at bay. Their focus needed to be on protection. He couldn’t wade into the fight. Couldn’t…
A high-pitched cackle came from behind them, and he whirled to find Rachel wrapped in Sophia’s embrace. The vampire’s talon-like fingernail was poised against his mate’s throat. Somehow the woman had gotten behind them as they’d watched the fight.
“Easy, puppy. This one owes me. I’ve been looking for her since we took care of her parents. What do you care if I rid the world of one more witch? One more watcher?”
Keeping his eyes trained on Sophia, he forced his wolf back so that he could speak, and he called over his shoulder, internally smiling when he caught sight of a flutter of ashes. At least they’d taken down one. The others would die just as soon as he took care of the bitch in front of him.
“Sentinels. To me.” The thud of a fist striking flesh followed his words and then all fell quiet as the men appeared at his sides. “Rachel.” His mate’s furious gaze flew to him. “Sit still, woman.” She glared at him, expression promising retribution.
“Maybe you do care. So, I have your little whore, puppy. You sign that new contract, and I’ll let her go. Don’t and… I think my men would enjoy a little witch snack to help them heal.” Sophia’s words were filled with venom.
A movement to his left revealed Sophia’s guards limping toward their mistress. Grant smiled at the destruction he saw. Wolves and vampires tended to be evenly matched, but these were highly trained in combat. And his sentinels had held their own. The minute this was over, he’d step up his wolves’ training.
He wanted nothing to threaten his mate again. Ever.
“Will you kill her the way you took out my father? He knew, didn’t he? The Marroks met with him and then they all had to die, yes?”
The woman’s smile was evil personified. “Quite.”
“So, I sign, and you release her. That is your proposal, yes? My signature for her life?” Low growls surrounded him. “You assume much, vampire.” Focused entirely on Rachel, he made his next words count. “She is a witch, nothing more. A pawn, really. Why, she could disappear, and I wouldn’t blink an eye.”
At the word disappear, Rachel was gone. One heartbeat and she became invisible. Poof.
The confusion was enough for Grant. It was enough for him to close the distance between him and Sophia and…
And rip out the bitch’s throat. By the time his claws slid free of her flesh, the woman’s body disintegrated into a million flecks of gray. The fluttering debris caught on Rachel’s unseen body as she fled and he wrapped his arm around her waist, shoving her behind him while he dealt with the remaining vampires.
“Your leader is dead, and you have twenty-four hours to leave the city.” He didn’t owe them more than that. Not after what their clan had done to the witches and the wolves, his family and Rachel’s.
The bloodiest of Sophia’s guards hissed at him. “We can still end you, wolf.”
“I’m willing to let others think Sophia was insane, and you were forced to follow her schemes because she was so much stronger than you. Attack now, and face a blood war unlike any you’ve ever seen.”
The vampire’s response was simply a narrowing of glowing, red eyes. The men turned from Grant, moved around their cluster of wolves, and strode toward their waiting vehicles without a backward glance.
It wasn’t until the SUVs were out of sight that Grant relaxed, pulling the shivering, invisible body into his arms. His sweet, strong-as-steel mate seemed to be falling apart now that the danger had passed.
The distinct pht of someone spitting was followed by the soft thud as the glob hit the grass near their feet. The man moved away from their group toward the waiting vehicles.
The sound repeated, another wolf leaving Grant and Rachel.
And another.
Again.
The heavy thud of booted feet on the grass softened the further the wolves traveled until Grant and Rachel stood alone, not even Hagan having remained by his side.
And, it seemed, the pack had spoken of their feelings regarding his mate.
* * *
Rachel tugged the last book from the box she’d been emptying and slid it onto the shelf. The final carton was empty.
Turning, she took a moment to look around the room, noting that everything had been put away and was snuggled into place. She hadn’t stayed in this room since she’d left for college and she was thankful that Great Aunt Petunia hadn’t ever gotten around to turning the space into a sewing room. The woman had been spouting that threat for years.
Crazy old bat.
Well, crazy old bat who’d given her a place to come home to.
The canopy bed was just as she’d left it, frilly pink comforter in place with no sign of dust or age. As much as the woman complained about the room going without use, she sure did keep it ready for Rachel.
God, she couldn’t imagine Grant flopping onto the girly bed…
Unbidden tears stung her eyes and she blinked against the pain. She didn’t want to think about him, about the pack, about how unwelcome she’d been once they’d all learned the truth about her.
Because you’re mine.
Rachel shook her head and pushed that deep, gravelly voice from her mind. She wasn’t his. She didn’t belong to him. She’d helped the pack, but she was a witch, a watcher. There was no future for the two of them and Grant’s sentinels had made their opinions clear.
There was no talking after the meeting with the vampires, and the tension had been palpable through the ride back to Hemming Industries. The men, bloodied and bruised, kept to themselves. No one looked toward her, the invisible body that Grant shielded in the SUV.
In the parking garage, she’d strayed from Grant’s side, leaving the cluster of men to talk and growl at each other. But a few choice words echoed in the concrete structure.
“I will challenge before a witch enters…” Hagan’s voice had been unmistak
able.
That’d been enough for Rachel.
Disregarding the ache building in her heart, Rachel had left, practically running down the street and toward her nearby apartment. Body jiggling, breath heaving and invisibility still firmly in place, she dashed over the sidewalk. She dodged pedestrians, pushing past others, with one destination in mind.
Her apartment.
Then Great Aunt Petunia’s.
She could hide. At least for a bit while she figured out what to do with her life. It wasn’t as if she’d get a glowing reference from Hemming Industries. She doubted HR knew of her witchery and saving of the pack.
“Rachel, dear?” Her aunt’s voice came from downstairs. The frail notes ate at her conscience. The elderly woman had welcomed her with open arms, but she knew Petunia was worried about Grant and the Hemming pack. It’d been a week since she’d fled, and she wondered how much longer she was able to hide.
“Coming!”
A heavy knocking at the front of the house caught Rachel’s attention, sending her heart racing, but her aunt’s welcoming tone soothed her. With her failing hearing, Petunia practically yelled her welcome. “Hello, dear, how are you? I’ve been wondering when you’d come for a visit.”
Her aunt had people coming and going all day, but… The soft, deep rumble reached into her, stroking something she’d tried to push from her mind.
“Yes, yes, come in…”
The response was muffled, but still crept into her veins.
“Oh, how lovely.”
She could hear the smile in the man’s voice, if not his words, when he replied.
“Of course, dear.”
The roll of the man’s voice moved closer, close enough to…
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Rachel’s knees buckled, legs no longer supporting her, and she crumpled to the bed, flopping onto the soft surface with a whimper.
Grant. He’d come. He’d left the pack and come for her and—
“Rachel.”