by Brenna Lyons
Tyler rolled his eyes skyward and seemed to be counting to a hundred as his mother often had. Scott noted the response in satisfaction. Apparently, his ‘grandfather’ didn’t want to make a scene in front of the visiting royalty.
“And your adversaries,” she commented, sipping the wine set beside her plate.
His smile faltered. “Is there a difference?”
“Of course. Enemies will cut your heart out. Adversaries want much less.”
His humor fled, and memories of the morning he met his ‘family’ filled his mind. The threat had been stated clearly enough for even a hard-headed loner like Scott to get the picture. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have any adversaries.”
“Scott—” Matt began in warning.
“No,” the princess ordered.
Several Warriors who’d begun talking fell silent at once, including Tyler. Scott marveled at the way they bent to her commands, perhaps even more than they did with her father, and he was “The Lord of All Houses.”
She wasn’t smiling now. Scott couldn’t have named the expression on her face. It wasn’t one he’d seen often enough to readily identify. It wasn’t pity like the Warrior wives sent his way so often or curiosity like the children displayed. It wasn’t fury like Jordan and Tevin were usually mired in. It wasn’t the exasperation on Tyler and Matt’s faces. Whatever it was, it seemed open and honest. Scott wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“Go on,” she invited. “I get the feeling this is something no one lets you talk about.”
It wasn’t, but it also wasn’t something he intended to discuss with her, especially with Tevin and the rest listening in. “There’s nothing to talk about. Between the rules of sanction and penalties... Well, you know them.”
“Yes, I do. I imagine the idea of killing your own family for breaking them seems harsh to you.”
“And, I know I don’t need a shrink, especially not if that shrink is you.”
The table erupted in sound and motion. Scott’s eyes narrowed as her brother fisted his sacred weapon. The Blutjagdfrau silenced them all with a wave of her hand; Corwyn even released his blade though he placed his fists on the table in silent warning.
“If I was offended,” she announced, “I would have challenged Scott myself. I fight my own battles, as did my mother and grandmother before me. Now... I believe I’d like to discuss this further with you, Mr. Danvers. Perhaps, after dinner?”
Scott pushed away from the table and stood. “Sorry, Princess. Not in my job description.” He turned and strode for the kitchen door.
“You are bound to obey König,” Jordan shouted after him.
“Lord and Lady König,” he retorted, biting back laughter. “Last time I checked, she was still a generation off that title.” He smiled all the way to the garage. At least, knowing their laws meant that he knew what they had the right to demand—and what they didn’t.
* * * *
“May I apologize,” Tevin began smoothly, making her skin crawl with his oily approach.
Katie managed not to snarl at him, though his voice made her want to rake her nails down his throat. “It isn’t your apology to offer.”
Several Warriors and their wives started speaking at once.
“Nor yours,” she informed them, losing her patience.
“I’ll speak to Scott about this,” Tyler offered.
“No. I will.” Katie rose from the table, motioning Bear not to follow her, and strode out the way he had.
The kitchen was empty, but the swinging sheers on the inset window of the back door announced his passage. She slid through the door, expecting Scott to be just outside. He wasn’t, but his outline was clearly visible, retreating toward the garage.
She hoped he didn’t intend to take off in a vehicle.
No. Tyler had reported that Scott typically lived to the letter of the law.
Of course, if he really believes his life is in danger in his family’s sanctuary, he would take care not to break laws. Did he really believe that any infraction would mean his life? They’d show leniency for his inexperience, if for no other reason.
Katie debated the possibilities for a moment. If she ghosted and followed him, she could find out what Scott did to escape. She scrapped that idea almost immediately. It was obvious that Scott already felt he was under attack. Subterfuge would be the wrong answer. It would be better to approach him openly—and quietly.
Scott hadn’t bothered to close the side door to the garage, probably in an attempt to get fresh air circulating. Harsh fluorescent light and the sound of metal on metal, but not blade on blade, escaped to the night outside. Taking a calming breath, she slipped inside.
His back was to her, his muscles more relaxed than he’d been inside. It took her only a few minutes to realize that he was working on a missing part to the motorcycle in front of her. It was a beautiful machine: sleek lines, leather that smelled of whatever oil he rubbed into it and meticulously kept. Katie stepped toward it, running her hand along the soft, leather seat.
At the whisper of sound, Scott whipped around, his hand closing around the hilt of his weapon. His brow furrowed, his face morphing from a touch of panic to confusion so fast it made her dizzy.
Katie forced herself not to show emotion, stroking the seat again. “Nice bike,” she commented, trying for a safe subject.
His muscles unwound slowly. He released his weapon and rolled his shoulder in what looked like a shrug. “Cycle,” he corrected her, turning away and resuming his work.
“Beg your pardon?”
“It’s a cycle. Bikes don’t have engines. It’s not exactly a Schwinn.”
“Not remotely,” she agreed.
Scott didn’t answer her; he seemed intent on ignoring her presence.
“Do you always do that?” she asked.
“I always keep my cycle in good shape. The Great Lord Armen and Jordan added the other vehicles on—my chores, I guess. Have to be a contributing member somehow.” There was an edge of sarcasm in his voice.
“I guess, but that’s not really what I meant.”
He didn’t respond, didn’t even acknowledge her comment.
“I see. Ignoring people is something you do a lot.”
The slightest edge of Blutjagd lit in him then faded. Still, he didn’t comment.
She ground her teeth in frustration. “I’m not your enemy, Mr. Danvers.”
“Why— Why do you call me that?”
“It’s your name.”
He snorted as if in disgust. “Try telling... Never mind.”
“KlingeStütze getragen,” she whispered.
Scott tensed.
“Your name is your own. You know, my grandmother was separated from the Warriors for twenty-four years, from just after her birth.”
“So?” he snapped.
“She didn’t accept her birth name. I’d guess you didn’t know that. She was born Erin Allison Hunter, but she was Jayde Marie Albright-Cross until the day she died.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard.” But his voice announced his uncertainty.
Katie crossed the room and hoisted herself up on the work table a yard away from him. “Jayde thought of the title König as a distinction—like Blutjagdfrau or protected.” She crossed one leg over the other, leaning back on her arms so her chest pushed through the open front of her jacket. “If you want to get purely technical about it, I’m a Maher. Saying I’m Blutjagdfrau and König is redundant, since all female Warriors are from the König house.”
Scott glanced her way then back to his work, though he’d ceased doing any actual work at about the time she lifted her leg. “Makes sense.” His jaw tensed slightly. “Now you know why I hit the books so hard.”
“Oh, you won’t find that in any book. The books are ancient writings. Corwyn—my great-grandfather Corwyn, that is— He kept journals of theories about the stone, and my mother knows all the secrets, of course. I suppose there hasn’t been time to write everything down that we’ve
learned since the first Blutjagdfrau returned to the fold. I don’t think any of the houses have kept a formal history since the late eighteen-hundreds.”
“Armen’s ends in nineteen-twenty-two.”
She smiled at his offer of information. “Maybe I should hit the books while I’m here.”
His face flushed. “Why are you here? Obviously, you don’t intend to punish me for being rude to you.”
“Oh, were you being rude?” she asked coyly. “I thought you were hinting that you wanted a sparring partner.”
Scott stared at her, his expression flickering through a myriad of emotions. Katie shifted to the side, twisting her torso so that the black pearl-buttoned sweater she wore under her jacket pulled tight over her chest. His gaze drifted down then back up sharply. His work sat by, forgotten for a moment.
“I...um...I’m probably not good enough to spar with you.” His eyes flicked to her chest again. He looked away, seemingly discomfited.
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” she stated calmly.
Scott fisted the ratchet, swallowing slowly.
“Hungry?” she asked, dropping her leg so they sat side by side, slightly parted.
His head snapped around again, darting to the space between her thighs then to her face. “What?”
“Are you hungry? I’m starving.” She rolled the final statement out, adding just a hint of sexual innuendo to it.
He started to deny it, but his stomach grumbled, ruining his chances of lying.
“Chicken or burgers?” she offered.
His brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You don’t want to eat in there, and truth be told, neither do I. Why don’t we take off and get something to eat?”
Scott looked at the ratchet in his hand, as if he were conferring with it for what answer to give her. “The cycle is out of commission,” he reminded her.
“I have my F250.” Katie motioned to the silver vehicle closest to the double sliders.
He paused as if he was considering it. “It’s probably not a good idea.”
“We both need to eat, and I’d still like to talk to you.”
“I’ll raid the kitchen later.” He didn’t answer the rest.
Katie bit back a sigh, easing to the floor. There was no question that Scott wanted her, but he wasn’t going to make getting close to him easy.
“If you say so,” she offered cordially. “I’ll see you at training, Mr. Danvers.” She started for the door.
“Scott,” he whispered.
Her heart leapt at that.
“You’ll only piss them off if you keep calling me Danvers.”
“Okay, Scott. I’ll see you at training.” Katie headed back to the house with a smile on her face.
Step two. She had to learn more about Scott. Getting close to him meant learning about him — and not just what she could read in his file.
* * * *
Scott breathed a half dozen curses, forcing his attention back to the starter assembly. “You are undeniably the stupidest man alive,” he berated himself.
The princess wanted inside his defenses, and she was damned good at using her body to get what she wanted. There was no mistaking that. Still, he almost fell for it.
When she’d hoisted herself onto the work table, it had taken every ounce of his willpower not to drink in every curve, but she hadn’t backed down, and before long, he’d been rapt on every delicious inch of her lush body.
Turning down her offer of dinner had stretched his control to dangerous levels. Trapped in the F250 with her, Scott felt certain that he’d have found himself all over her, pouring out his heart while he tried his best to get into her pants.
No! Sex was one area of his life where Scott had always been in charge. No König princess was going to change that. If they ended up taking release together, it wouldn’t be in exchange for something she wanted—and he would be the one calling the shots.
He grumbled another curse. There was no way it would happen. Once she figured out he wasn’t going to play it her way, it would be over before it started.
* * * *
“Come in,” Katie called absently, not looking up from the file spread across the bed.
Bear strolled in, closing the door behind him. “Learning anything interesting?” he asked.
“Fascinating. How about you?”
Her twin settled on the bed beside her. “He’s a felon, you know.”
“No, he’s not. It was a misdemeanor. That asshole was beating up on a woman, and Scott defended her.”
“He sent that guy to the hospital for a week, Kates.”
“And how long would the woman have spent in the hospital if he hadn’t?” She sighed. “Yes, he went too far, which is why he ended up with a record, but look at the facts, Bear. He wasn’t even sixteen yet. How long do we train to control our Blutjagd? Even you’ve had a serious slip in control—at about the same age, too. The only difference is that you were lucky enough to have Dad and Hunter with you at the time to take you down. Scott wasn’t that lucky.”
“But, that’s my point. He’s still not trained.”
“Look at the line of work he was in. You can’t seriously think he lacked control. He would have killed someone. He would have gone too far again.”
“I just think—” He hesitated, a pained look on his face.
“Go on.”
“When his training is complete—”
“You are not suggesting I wait a year for him.”
“He’s not exactly polished material, Kates.”
“Neither was Dad, if memory serves. How many rules of sanction did he break the night we were conceived? Even he’s not sure, but by my count, it was at least four, and he’d finished his training seven years before he and Mom mated.”
He grimaced as he always did when she mentioned their parents’ lack of control in mating.
“I won’t last another year,” she informed him miserably. Just being in the same house with Scott was driving her insane. “I won’t, Bear, and you can’t ask me to.”
“Mom lasted four,” he countered in as diplomatic a voice as he could muster.
“So have I—already. Self-release isn’t enough anymore, just like it wasn’t enough for her.” She growled. “Like you men understand! If I didn’t know for a fact that the stone was female, I’d swear the damned thing was male. You men don’t have to wait. No. You get to slake your hungers from the moment they hit.”
“Okay. I get it. Waiting isn’t an option.”
“No. It isn’t. I should have come when I felt the pull.” Memories of her indecision made her stomach ache. Why hadn’t she called her mother in and told her what she was feeling? By that time, her parents had to have known that Scott was found in Maher range. They were among the first to meet him, after all.
“Oh, yeah,” he countered sarcastically. “That would have been grand. You’d have waltzed back to Maher — or to Armen to meet a borderline psychotic.”
“Has it occurred to you that Grandma Jayde settled into Warrior life because Talon was there for her? Maybe I was meant to help Scott accept what he is. I missed him in Maher range by less than a day, you know. And, I almost got off the plane to Smith. You know I did.”
“Then why didn’t Mom order you back to Armen range when Scott was found? Why didn’t the stone lead you there?”
She faltered, feeling her cheeks heat. “I don’t know. I’m not stone vessel yet, and the stone doesn’t always explain why it does things. Maybe it was a choice I had to make for myself.”
“Or, maybe you’re wrong.”
Katie ground her teeth, trying not to snap at him. It was her printing driving her crazy, not Bear. Of the two of them, he was probably the more rational at the moment. “Maybe about that but not about Scott. Gods, just being in the same room with him makes me—”
“This is way more information than I need from you.”
She chuckled, enjoying his squeamish response to her sexual side. “So...
I take it you talked to the other Warriors?”
His jaw tightened, and a touch of Blutjagd lit then extinguished, all in the blink of an eye.
“Wow,” she breathed. “Do I dare ask what that was all about?”
“I don’t like the idea of you sleeping with that man,” he stated bluntly.
“He’s my mate, Bear. Having sex with him is part of the package, and I don’t mind telling you, it’s a part I don’t intend to shy from.”
Bear darkened, scrubbing a hand over his evening stubble.
“It can’t possibly be that bad. Can it?”
Warriors weren’t known for staid sexual practices. They were virile men, and they took every wild opportunity to indulge, as her parents more than proved. What could possibly make her brother so wary? She hoped it was just the idea of her budding sexuality, but his reactions didn’t seem to support that. Of course, he didn’t like Scott, so anything was possible.
“The women he picks up for release are...” He skated a quick look at her then away.
Katie scowled at him. “What? Please, stop beating around the bush with me. I am an adult, you know.”
“They’re—not your type,” he offered diplomatically.
“What? Blonde, green-eyed airheads?”
Bear turned to her, doing a slow perusal of her, head to toe. Katie stared at the mirror, taking stock of the steel-toed elf boots made especially for her, the skin-tight Lycra mix jeans, the black sweater with the gray pearl buttons, and the black curls pinned to her scalp and surrounding her face. She looked back to Bear, shrugging. Whatever he was looking at, it wasn’t apparent to her.
He rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t pick up the sweet sixteen and never been kissed type. He doesn’t even go for the been around the block a time or two type. His chosen partners are usually...trashy.” Bear shifted uncomfortably.
She considered her reflection again. Pulling the pins took a few minutes, but soon her curls were cascading over her shoulders.
“You’re not trashy, Kates. Nothing you do to your hair is going to change that.”