by Kyle, Celia
“I know.” Hawkins shrugged. “But partnering with me… It brings out something different. So when it speaks, you listen.” That part of him was speaking now, his left arm heating and almost burning. A whip of pain struck his fingers and Hawkins turned left, sighing when the ache left him. “This way.”
His body pulsed, skin shining nearly white for half a breath before it settled back to his normal tan. It reached for something, stretching its invisible arms. He sensed its agitation and annoyance at being unable to snatch whatever it hunted.
Well, Hawkins was pretty annoyed, too.
Chance tripped, stumbling forward and catching himself on the black brick wall. “Oh, fuck.”
“Yup.”
“What the hell is that?”
Hawkins shrugged. “Still dunno, but it wants whatever it’s chasing.”
His wolf huffed at him, the soft chuff reminding him of the animal that lurked in his body. Like he could forget the beast’s existence. At least, not for long. The thing always managed to prod Hawkins exactly when he needed to focus on something.
Stupid beast.
That had the wolf snarling at him. Great. Annoyed magic and pissed off beast. Pissed off and… as anxious as the magic. Huh.
The cold nose that nudged his mind was familiar, familiar and more insistent than ever.
He grabbed his partner’s arm and tugged him to the side until they crouched behind a dumpster. If his magic decided to make a sudden reappearance, the hunk of metal could hide the bulk of the light. He hoped.
“What’s your wolf saying, Chance?” He murmured the words, keeping his voice low.
Could he have used telepathy like most other pairs? No, not so much. Mainly because Hawkins’ magic and wolf were picky bastards and still didn’t trust the younger male.
“It’s saying find that fucking scent driving it wild.” Fur crept up Chance’s neck, turning his skin gray.
“Scent?” Hawkins raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t been able to get past the stench of garbage, rain, and rotting food.
“Starfruit and sugar cookies.” Chance shuddered and that fur was joined by the emergence of his partner’s fangs.
“Starfruit and sugar cookies?” Hawkins drew in a deep breath, ignoring the wolf’s low grumble and then the animal helped things along. Hell, the magic and the beast. Both worked together to bring the surrounding aromas to him. He shifted and slid past the disgusting flavors of their surroundings and crept deeper.
Deeper and deeper, and he found Starfruit and sugar cookies. An odd combination, but one that called to both magic and wolf.
“Oh, fuck.” Hawkins’ cock went hard in his jeans, filling and lengthening in the tight confines until a new ache assaulted him. He pushed to his feet and ignored his throbbing dick. The hunt was on.
“What is it, Hawk?”
“Ours.” His fangs descended, lengthening until they pricked his lower lip. There was no denying the truth. Those flavors called to everything inside him and they’d find the source. They’d find their mate.
Now.
“Oh, shit.” Chance followed him. “Our mate? Are you serious?”
“Keep prodding the wolf, he’ll tell you.”
Hawkins didn’t wait for his partner’s agreement. He simply strode down the alley with a new purpose. Their mate was out there, out there and calling to them.
He took another left, then a right, a second left, then bypassed two other alleys before finally jogging down yet another. This part of town was a maze of buildings and crawl spaces, and he was determined to dig through every one until they found their female.
Chance dogged his heels, sometimes preempting Hawkins’ directions and jogging ahead.
They both hunted.
Around yet another corner, something struck him, hit him so hard he nearly fell to his knees.
Magic. Powerful magic. It was untrained, burning hot, and searing the very air they breathed. Hell, much stronger and it would burn the air. Set it alight and that sure as hell would garner attention.
The oxygen glowed, though. Pulsing with tiny tremors and he knew that whoever held that power was slowly losing the battle against the energies. Like a toddler who screamed until they collapsed into an exhausted heap. Fighting to the end.
“There.” He pointed at the dumpster at the end of the alley. It was the source of the tremulous light. Chance took a step forward and Hawkins placed a hand on his partner’s arm. “Carefully. She’s about ready to blow.”
Chance nodded and they resumed their trek, slowly easing closer to the female who’d called to them. The nearer they got, the stronger her scent became until he couldn’t smell anything other than her. The woman’s magic sank into him, too. It delved beneath his skin and he sensed the intelligence that lived in the energy. That part of her crept deeply and seemed to measure and weigh him. It stroked his spine, sank into his lungs, and finally wrapped around his heart.
Then it squeezed. Tighter and tighter. It strengthened its hold, seeming to slowly bleed him of his life. His instinct was to fight, to lash out at the female even if she was his mate. He wasn’t about to die because she was frightened. He was stronger than that. He had more power than…
It didn’t matter how much power he had. Not when it came to her. He didn’t know what she looked like, didn’t know her name, but he did know she was his mate.
And if his mate wanted his life… Well, he figured she’d have it. Just being this close was worth everything to him. Including his existence.
As soon as the thought solidified in his mind, she released him. It’d tested Hawkins’ strength and found him worthy. Damn. That was scary as hell and just as arousing.
He glanced at Chance, trying to see if his partner endured the same treatment, but Chance looked as young and happy as always. How the hell could the man endure that experience and not…
Unless he didn’t receive the same treatment. But she would have tried them both, right?
Then it didn’t matter because they’d reached the edge of the dumpster. Eight feet separated them now, her body hidden behind the caked steel.
Together they stepped forward, movements slow yet audible. By silent agreement, they allowed themselves to be heard. He sensed her distress and the last thing he wanted to do was catch her by surprise.
When a low whimper reached them, and it took all of his control not to rush forward and tug her close. To wrap her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay.
Instead, he kept to his path and opened his mouth to speak, but Chance cut him off.
“Hello? Are you okay?” His partner’s voice was low, and even Hawkins found it soothing.
Another whimper was her answer.
“I’m Chance and I’ve got my partner Hawkins with me,” the man murmured and stepped away from the dumpster, putting more space between himself and the woman yet still stepping into sight. “What’s your name?”
A wave of magic ballooned from her, coating them both in the energies and it sent Hawkins to his knees, body sinking into the sludge that coated the asphalt. “Shit.”
The woman whined and it struck him again, slicing through skin and delving into bone. Damn their mate packed a punch.
Hawkins spared a glance for his partner and noted the man wasn’t having any trouble facing off against their mate. In fact, he seemed to glow with power, absorbing whatever the woman tossed at him. Great, she shoved Hawkins aside and beckoned Chance closer.
Wasn’t that great?
Fuck you, life.
* * *
Chance ignored the fact that their mate sent Hawkins to his knees. Later, when his partner wasn’t so pissed over being knocked on his ass by her, he’d remind Hawkins that… he was put on his ass by their tiny mate.
And she was tiny. Oh, she looked to be curved in all the right places, but she was curled in a tight, small ball. He knew when she stood, she’d barely top his shoulder. But her height wasn’t his primary concern.
No, her condition worri
ed him most.
Yes, dirt and grime from the alley coated her pale skin, but the worst was that beneath the stains were bruises. Not a few, either. No, he saw at least two on her right leg and three on her left including one that looked to be a boot print on the outside of her upper thigh. He imagined her curled up in an attempt to block the blow. A deep gash marred her forearm and purple surrounded her throat. Her cheek was swollen and one eye was encircled by a dark shiner. And beneath her ear, near her jaw, was a still-bleeding cut.
Someone went after her. Went after her, beat her to hell, and then tried to kill her.
Anger—no, rage—filled him in a blinding rush and he noticed how the magic inside her pulsed in response. The brightness increased, flaring, and then settled once again.
She was powerful, but she’d already learned a good bit of control.
She wasn’t just a powerful woman, she was Warden Born. A human female meant to mate a Warden Pair. She was theirs and now that he was this close, able to fully enjoy her scent while his magic tasted hers, he knew he’d never let her go.
But first he had figure out how she’d been activated. A Warden Born could only access her power if she’d been triggered by one of the Wardens or if she came into contact with her mate. They’d just stumbled upon her so that meant…
Okay, he needed to know how she got away from the Gathering and how she’d ended up inside the devil’s asshole.
Unless… No, this couldn’t be her. Not Paisley Twynham. Could it?
“How about I tell you our full names?” He crouched, putting himself at eye level and praying he seemed harmless to her. “I’m Chance Bishop,” he pressed a hand to his chest and then pointed at his partner. “That’s Hawkins Rowe.”
The scent of her fear stung his nose, searing his nostrils and he worked to brush it aside. He wanted more of her sweetened flavors to fill him.
When she didn’t say a word, he pushed on. He needed to confirm his suspicions and then he needed to get her back to Hotel Garou. It wasn’t safe to have an unstable Warden Born on the streets.
“I’m not gonna lie, okay. You’re feeling twitchy, huh? A little hot, maybe like your skin is burning?” She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t speak. “And you’re glowing. That’s probably new.” He raised his eyes and flicked his attention to her hand before refocusing on her face. “How about I tell you what I think happened and then you can tell me if I’m right.”
More silence and a slight tremble slid through her.
“I think you were called to the Gathering and you didn’t know what was going on. Maybe saw some things that scared you?” He raised his eyebrows in question. “And then you were taken from there, huh? By a man? He probably had a little something different about him?” Her lips twitched and a low snort reached him. “Okay, different is an understatement.”
He took a deep breath and prepared himself for her reaction to his next words. He might get tears, or a slap in the face from her magic. Either way, he’d know.
“He was a werewolf. And he took you to be with other werewolves.” Chance didn’t miss the widening of her eyes. “Your name is Paisley Twynham. Your sisters are Rebecca and Lorelei and they’re really worried about you.”
The strike was nearly instantaneous and harsher than he’d suspected. It did manage to have him stumbling back, but he managed to catch himself before he fell into the grime.
Hawkins was even less successful. With a low groan, his partner crumpled to the ground, his shoulder and then head colliding with the garbage caked surface with a solid thump. Damn, their mate kicked his friend’s ass.
Which should not be his focus.
“Okay,” he settled his nerves and reminded his magic—and his wolf—that she was their mate. By her reaction to his words, he assumed she was Paisley. “That’s a nice punch you’ve got. Now, why don’t we give your sisters a call? They’re back at the hotel and truly worried about you.”
“You kidnapped them, too?” Her voice was soft and lyrical, stroking his wolf and soothing some of its raised fur.
“Well…” The answer was yes, but how the hell could he admit to that? “It wasn’t intentional, but you can see…” He flicked his hand, flipping it until his palm faced the sky. A small glowing ball hovered above his skin, swaying in the wind. “We have magic. That’s how you three were brought here, but you weren’t supposed to leave the hotel. Someone was supposed to explain things to you about all this.”
“This? This werewolves or this magic or this asshole reading from a book and…” Paisley shuddered and those words verified his assumptions.
“All of it, really. Except the asshole and the book which is also something we need to talk about once we get you out of this hellhole and cleaned up.” He kept his tone soft and soothing. She was scared, tired, and had been held by Maxim for days. Snarling and growling wasn’t going to do the job.
“So maybe you come with me and we’ll take care of you?”
Paisley shook her head. “No. I want—”
Hawkins groaned and got his hands beneath him, slowly easing from the ground. Which was a mistake because her magic struck out at his partner once again.
“Okay, then.” He tore his attention from his unconscious friend. “Why don’t you tell me what you want? What do you need, Paisley?”
Chance’s magic stroked him in approval and his wolf added his own chuff. His question wasn’t fueled by his responsibilities or his desire to do as ordered. Now it was all about what he could do for her. Nothing was more important than caring for her.
“Who was he? Why me? What’s…” She raised her hand, the entwined symbols glowing on her skin. They were permanent marks. Ones that told every wolf she met that not only did she hold a great deal of magic, but she was mated as well. “Why do I look like I was covered in glow-in-the-dark paint by some high-as-a-kite artist with bad eyesight?”
“Oh, you want me to answer the easy questions, then.” His rueful grin was met by hers and despite the shared smile, he knew he wasn’t getting out of the alley with her until she was satisfied with his answers.
Chance glanced at the ground his attention shifting from the asphalt to his jeans and back again. He spared a glance for his partner and was satisfied that his friend still breathed easily. Just knocked out, then.
Okay, Hawkins was fine and they were gonna hang out for a while. In the smelly alley. The smelly alley filled with…
Fuck it.
He plopped onto the ground, ignoring the wetness that sank into his clothes and cooled his skin. “Okay, this is gonna take a while.”
Chapter Three
Paisley stared at her hand, ignoring the bumps and jarring that shook her as the SUV trundled over the ground. Her glowing hand. Hell, it looked as if it was on fire, white flames dancing from finger to finger. Small crackles and bolts of light flicked her palm.
Magic. Her magic.
It hadn’t truly hit home until she’d heard Chance’s explanations coupled with Hawkins’ gruff interruptions.
Warden Born.
Human women meant to mate with two werewolves. No, not regular werewolves. Wardens.
Like Hawkins and Chance.
Like Maxim except that man hadn’t had a partner. They said it was the only reason she’d been able to use her powers and escape.
Neither man explained why she was suddenly a human glow stick who’d be more at home at a rave than the middle of a busy city. She would look pretty at night, though. Like a sparkling star.
The vehicle’s weight shifted, forcing her to lean sideways as they rounded another corner, almost sending her crashing against Hawkins. The man jerked away from her as if touching her skin repulsed him.
What-the-fuck-ever.
Paisley held herself stiff, clinging to the seat belt while squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to take up as little space as possible. He didn’t want to touch her? Well, she didn’t either. Not really. Okay, a little bit really, but if he was keeping his hands to himself then so w
as she.
The SUV traveled around a dozen corners and covered God only knows how many miles before the posh hotel finally came into view. It stretched toward the sky, rising high above the street. Supposedly her cousin Scarlet—the Ruling Alpha Mate—was on the top floor with her other two cousins and sisters. Her family. Her family that was now mated to werewolves. She still couldn’t believe it—not really—and yet… she was a walking glow stick.
Eventually they turned into the hotel’s driveway, their SUV winding its way along the long road until they slowed to a stop beneath a large overhang. There was a small milling crowd made up of massive, heavily muscled men, beautiful women, and a half dozen dogs, er, wolves.
Every single person focused on them, gazes seeming to penetrate the vehicle. Gorgeous, strong, deadly… So like Maxim. But they weren’t that wolf. She’d left him unconscious in that disgusting hotel room and now there were men hunting him. She’d given her description of the place as well as she could from a hazy recounting of the random path she’d taken during her mad dash for freedom.
They would find him and do whatever it was they did with crazy as hell werewolves. She didn’t need the details. As long as someone told her that he’d been “handled,” she was good.
Chance climbed from the SUV first, stepping onto the red cobblestone pavers. He blocked her path, his back to her as his attention swept the gathered people. Was he hunting for danger? Was she still at risk? They’d said Maxim wouldn’t dare… That…
Fear. Cold hard fear beat on her, memories of his fists and boots ramming into her body, that small knife that’d nearly ended her life, that…
“Easy, Paisley. You’re safe,” Hawkins, gruff Hawkins, whispered to her. His words didn’t soothe her frazzled nerves, but his gentle tone had her racing heart slowing. “That’s it. There’s no reason to blow us all to hell.”
“Blow us all to…” She looked over her shoulder and frowned at him. “What are you talking about? I wasn’t—”