by C. D. Gorri
“But now I can see why.” Conan nodded at me.
“Why?” I had to be missing something.
“To begin with, you have magic.”
I laughed then. How little he knew. “No. I try to have magic. But it’s tiny, flaky, and useless.”
“No, it’s not. It’s there.” Conan’s response was instant, and he brooked no discussion.
“What are you, the magic guru?” My hand flew out in a gesture of scorn, or what the hell, or something. Otherwise, I’d have to think about how all I wanted was to be magical, to be capable, and show everyone around me that I was more. So much more.
It was almost as though Conan had seen that, after only seeing me for a few minutes.
I didn’t like it.
“I’m skilled at discerning the abilities of others.” You could ice drinks with the frost in his voice. “I see great magic in you.”
“Whatever. I’ve been through all the tests. I don’t have magic, no matter how much I want it.”
“Conan.” Bran’s voice held warning and a lot of things that weren’t being said.
“How are you still alive in this world?” Conan was impatient.
“They kept her hidden,” Bran replied.
“Why? Why did they keep her hidden if she’s just a kinda-sorta magical being? Why the nine-one-one-all-hands-on-deck-we-have-to-get-our-Lena-back drama?” Now it was Conan’s turn to toss up his hands. “There’s more to this. She may be using you. They may have coached her well.” He glared at me.
“I’m not sensing the things you are.” Bran took his brother’s words calmly.
“Doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
“No.” I had to interrupt. “They didn’t know anything about my magic. It’s not from my mom or dad. And if it came from anywhere else, they would have told me!”
“The way they told you Zane was faithful, all yours, just waiting for your wedding day?” Conan didn’t even bother hiding his scorn.
“You’re an asshole.” I slid out of bed and pulled the sheet with me, not caring if I messed up the bed. Then I leaned down and scooped up my clothes and marched to the bathroom.
At least I hadn’t tripped and fallen on my face.
I’d take the wins where I could.
It felt good to slam the bathroom door behind me. To hell with Conan.
Nothing was going to separate me from Bran.
Nothing.
When I came out of the bathroom, having washed my face and done what I could with my hair, I looked around for my jacket. It was over near the dresser, on a chair. My boots were close by on the floor.
“We need to go.” Conan headed for the door.
“Where?” I wasn’t going to be ordered around any longer.
“To our parents. To our compound. Where we can keep Bran safe.”
“But not me?” I glared at him.
“That remains to be seen.”
Bran had gotten dressed while I was in the bathroom, and he came to slide an arm around my waist, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Don’t take him personally. He’s kind of a shit when he’s worried. He’s really worried.”
“And you had to steal the bike.” Conan was already outside, throwing his hands up again as he took in Zane’s Fat Boy.
“I didn’t have any other way to leave. They didn’t let me drive.”
Conan turned around and whatever he was going to say died a quick death as he looked at me. Then he focused his attention on Bran. “You might as well bring it. Dad may want to gloat before we give—”
“Sell.” Bran cut in.
“Get it back to the Darkbanes.”
“Is he missing me or his bike?” I had to ask. I was pretty sure I knew the answer. “Zane, I mean. What’s he the angriest about?”
“You know your fiancé well.” Conan didn’t really answer me. “Yuri and Sofia are upset. They don’t know what happened—” he put the last part in air quotes, “But they are ‘concerned and full of love for you.’ Nothing public, of course. The grapevine, however, is going ape shit.”
I rolled my eyes.
How was it that I would have believed such a statement yesterday, but now, I could hear the insincerity?
What had changed? Because something had.
I just didn’t know what it was.
“Do you have everything? We might not come back here if things get frosty. We may need to leave, get further away.” Bran slid an arm around my waist and kissed my ear.
“I do.” Although Bran’s actions and words soothed my anger and hurt, I didn’t stop glaring at Conan.
“Hang on. I’ll be right back.” Bran was gone in an instant.
Which left me with cranky pants Conan.
Great.
I looked away, not interested in conversation.
Bran’s voice floated out from his apartment, and I could hear the worry in his tone, although I couldn’t hear what he was saying.
I could feel his worry, his concern. There was something he wasn’t sharing with me.
Then I let it go. This guy was my mate. I was sensing his emotions. He’d tell me what was up with him when he was ready.
I could trust him.
Unlike everyone else in my life.
Bran came back out, still frowning. As his eyes met mine, he smiled, although it seemed like it was an effort. Something was off.
“Wait twenty minutes.” Conan walked over to a low-slung black car that looked fast.
“You took the car?”
“I’m in disguise, thanks to you.”
Holy Joseph. Conan was extremely quick, in addition to being extremely tall and extremely handsome. Too bad he was extremely rude. He could make someone a nice husband someday.
Or maybe not.
Conan roared off in the car, gunning the engine as he bumped back down the dirt road toward the main road.
Bran winced as the sound of a rock hitting the undercarriage of the car reached us. “He’s going to regret that later.” He sighed. “I’ll help him fix it, to maybe make up for this.”
“What is there to make up for?” I demanded. I didn’t mean to get pushy, but he was still putting off massive amounts of anxiety. “You don’t have to do this, Bran. I can leave. I was already planning on taking the bike and my ring and selling them. I could start over somewhere else, where no one knows me.”
His arms went around me. “No. No way in hell. You’re not going anywhere. But if you find your mate through a bond, and you’re older, sometimes things have to be managed.”
His tone made my eyes narrow. “Like what?”
“I don’t want to get into it now.” He kissed me. “Because it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’ve found each other. And I will never let you go, Lena Raff. Not even after you’re Lena Blackwood.”
The sound of his last name with mine sent a thrill through me. Lena Blackwood. That sounded wonderful. I’d be his wife, but more importantly, his mate.
He wouldn’t abandon me or give me away when times get hard.
Like my dad.
I pushed that thought away. That was old, old family business, and it had no place here. Not now.
I let him cuddle me for a few moments, and then I stepped away. “Should we get going? Is it time?”
He checked his phone. “Yeah, let’s go. It’s early enough that we should be able to get there without anyone spotting us.”
His words were casual, but I felt his spike of anxiety. This was far more serious than I thought. “Are we in trouble?”
“I don’t know. Conan’s pretty worried, but you can’t always judge by his reactions.” Bran shrugged. He was trying to be at ease, but it wasn’t working.
“Then let’s go. I’ll follow you.”
He leaned over to kiss me and then stepped over to his bike. Unlike Conan, we drove slowly down the road, swerving to avoid some of the more pitted areas.
I found that I was nervous. I didn’t know whether it was what I got from Bran's anxiety or Co
nan’s hostility—whatever it was, I could feel my own anxiety spike.
But there would be lots of that.
I’d changed everything when I left the Darkbane house.
And no matter how tough things got, it would still be better, less painful, to be here. Or even on my own.
With that thought, I followed Bran to the main road and hoped Conan’s mother wasn’t around when we arrived.
Chapter Seven
Lena
It took about half an hour before Bran pulled off the main roads that led out of Cantorville. The woods were thicker, more densely packed the further north we drove. I was wondering what his family would be like when I saw his blinker. He was slowing and veering to the right, and as I came up behind him, I could see an arch, in rusted iron, over a rusted gate.
It wasn’t rusted out of neglect but by design. The top of the arch had the phases of the moon over the letters ‘LWMC’.
To anyone not from here or not in the know, it would look like the entrance to a ranch. But here, in Cantorville, we knew. This was the home base of the Blackwoods.
The Lone Wolf Motorcycle Club.
Bran punched in the keys of the code pad and gestured for me to come in as the gate slid open. He drove his bike through and then waited, watching the gate. Once it was closed, he pulled ahead.
“You okay?” He leaned over as he lifted his face shield.
“Yes. I’m nervous.”
“I don’t blame you.”
Thanks, Bran. Not all that helpful.
“My family is strong and noisy and opinionated. But they love me, and I love them, and we’re going to be all right.” He smiled.
His phone rang then, and he whipped it out of his pocket. When he saw who was calling, he frowned and declined the call.
The anxiety—okay, his anxiety—filled the air around us.
“You’re going to have to tell me what’s up.” I nodded at the phone.
“What?” His shock was evident.
“I can feel your worry. Whatever it is, you can share.”
He bit his lip. “That’s new for me, sharing outside the family.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I mean, if we were mate-bonded, didn’t that make us family? Before I could question him further, he stepped on the gas and started down the driveway.
Well, shit.
I had a bad feeling.
But I would sit on it for a little longer. We had just dropped into one another’s lives like twelve hours ago. He might have things to manage. The only reason I didn’t was that I’d run away from my entire life.
Which maybe I didn’t need to do? I could explain this, try to talk to Sofia. She’d been the one who had told me of mate bonds, initially. And that they had to be honored. You couldn’t ignore them.
I was sure she wouldn’t feel the same way about me dumping her precious boy. Although if she knew about his screwing around and Susan—she really didn’t have any room to talk.
No. Any talking I did with the Darkbanes would be on the other side of a table, preferably with Bran and his brothers there.
The Darkbanes might have called me family, but ever since I’d left, I could see situations where they didn’t treat me like family. As someone who would join them. Someone who was supposed to be a trusted member.
They treated me like I was… like a… a commodity. That was the word—something of value, to be used for their needs.
Not as a person with my own wants and needs.
I hoped the Blackwoods would not hate me on sight.
All too soon, we were pulling up to the house. It was huge but modern and looked comfortable. It had been built for people to live in, rather than to impress, or for show. It was long, one story, and made of logs. The porch ran along the front of the house. There were rockers, love seats, and a couple of fire pits.
“How many people live here?” I asked when I turned off the Fat Boy after parking next to Bran.
His face wrinkled in thought. “There’s always the seven of us. Lately, we’ve had several guests staying for a week or so, and a couple of—well, we’ve had some guests here with us longer.” Something about the guests made him nervous.
The anxiety around him spiked again. There was nothing to be done about it now. He’d have to tell me—but that would be later, apparently.
Bran took my hand. “Ready?”
“I am.” I stood up taller. I wasn’t all that tall, to begin with, and my hair had seen better days. I was here with Bran, though, and we’d chosen each other. That was all that should matter.
It wouldn’t matter to your family. To either of them. The nasty voice that made me think of Zane whispered in my mind.
He lifted my hand and kissed the back of it. “Welcome to Blackwood House, Lena.”
A wave of caring so strong surrounded me, and I felt my anxiety ease.
Together, we walked in the front door.
There was no one in the front room, which was like a great room, had lots of sofas, and a large television in one corner. I could see a long dining table near the wall behind the couches. I looked to the left and saw the kitchen.
Which was filled with people.
And holy mother of Pearl, Conan the Grouch was at the stove.
Everyone turned.
A woman with light hair was the first to rise. “I’m Caro Blackwood, Bran’s mother. Well, his birth mother. We’re all his mothers. Did he tell you that?” She came toward me with her hand out.
I shook it. It was warm. Caro had a firm grip and kind eyes. I remembered what Bran told me—that she was the practical mom. This was being practical. Bran had come home with a strange girl. May as well welcome her in.
Her welcome felt sincere, no matter what I might think.
“You’ve met Conan, and this is Andi. Morena and Xavier aren’t here, and I don’t know where Alec is.” Caro looked around with a frown.
I noted that she liked to know where people were. Sofia had always wanted to know where I was, what I was doing, but it wasn’t the same. The feeling that came from Caro was totally different.
Andi got up. “It’s nice to meet you, Lena, is it?” She looked to Bran for confirmation.
Bran nodded. “Lena Raff.”
The eyebrows of both women went up. “Not Darkbane?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve never been a Darkbane.”
“They treated you like one.” Conan joined in from near the stove.
“I guess.” Then I clapped my hand over my mouth. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Sofia always told me that I was to always, always keep the family business within the family.
Andi took a step closer to me. “You can be honest with us. At this point, based on the little Conan has shared, it would probably be for the best. Why don’t you come in and sit down? Conan’s making breakfast, and he’s a good cook.” She smiled, trying to put me at my ease.
Bran rested his hand on my lower back as we walked to where the women had been sitting at the island in front of the stove. The chairs were large and comfy with handles and well-padded backs.
Everything in this house that I’d seen so far, including the people (other than Conan), were comfortable.
Everything I’d learned about the Blackwoods was proving to be a lie.
“Omelets and hash browns, Lena?” Conan didn’t turn around as he spoke to me.
It was interesting. Back at Bran’s place, Conan had been vibrating with anger and anxiety. Here, he was a lot less high-strung. Bran, who sat on my right side at the end of the island, was now the one vibrating.
Something was really off with him.
“Yes, please,” I replied to Conan.
“If you’re willing, can you tell us how you met Bran and what happened last night?” Caro settled in and took charge.
“If you want to, that is. Conan told us a little, as I said, but I’d rather hear it from you if you’re up to speaking about it.” Andi gave Caro a look that I couldn’t decipher.
�
��I don’t mind. It’s pretty simple, sadly. The oldest sad story in the book.” I told them about discovering Zane and Susan.
“In your bed?” Caro gasped.
“I would have killed him,” Andi stated like it wasn’t a big deal. “Then beat her ass.”
Bran and Conan laughed.
“Tell us how you really feel, Andi.” Conan’s shoulders were shaking.
“Once you’re engaged, that’s it. All the running around stops. It sounds like Zane never stopped.” Andi chose her words carefully.
“It’s all right. Bran told me that everyone, even the people outside his pack, knows all about him.” Why did that part hurt? Because it did. I didn’t want Zane back. Not at all. Even had I not met Bran. But… it still stung.
“Nice, Bran. I hope you broke it gently.” Caro glared at her son.
“As gently as I could.” Bran held up hands in protest. “Wouldn’t you rather know the truth? I know the three of you wanted the truth from Dad.”
“Your father is nothing like Zane Darkbane.” Andi’s response was prim.
“We all would have killed him together.” Caro smiled when she saw my face. “But he’d made no promises to any of us at that point in time.”
“Yes, indeed.” Andi nodded. “But enough about ancient history. Go on, Lena.”
I shared the whole sad-ass thing, getting angrier as I spoke. “It’s really strange.” I finished with something that had been bothering me when I came up for air with Bran, which hadn’t been much, truthfully.
“Oh, you were bothered?” Conan broke in.
“Shut up!” Both the moms said together.
I nodded. “After I gave him back his necklace, I left—”
“And kicked him in the balls. Don’t forget that part.” Bran chimed in.
Andi gave him a look.
“You didn’t tell him to shut up,” Conan said as he turned to slide an omelet onto a plate. This was obviously an old complaint between the brothers.
“Hey, that’s never getting old.” Bran laughed. “I would have paid money to have seen that.”
“Yes, after that, and I took the bike. It wasn’t anything Zane did. It was just me, how I felt. It was when I was riding away. I was crying, but I wasn’t wanting to die or feeling devastated. I mean, I’m hurt. But at the same time, I felt, I feel… free. Like something had lifted off me.”