Zander lowered his sword and opened the door. “’Bout time you got here.”
The younger of the pair took a step back. “Goddess, that is not what I needed to see right now.”
Zander hadn’t bothered to dress, so he stood fully naked in the doorway, his sword at his side. “What’s your problem, Mason?” he asked. “Gone all squeamish on me? Goddess help your mate.”
“Just cover that up. Bears, I swear, are fucking clueless.”
The older Shifter laughed. “Get over it, little bro. He’s got a woman in there. I’d say we can come back later, but I’m not waiting another two days for you to finish.”
Zander growled. “More like two weeks, but I get it. Be right back.”
He slammed the door and strode into the bedroom, sheathing the sword and finding his clothes. “Broderick and Mason McNaughton,” he told Rae by way of explanation as he pulled on his underwear and jeans. “They’re from Austin. I asked them to come up here and look at the sword.”
Rae peered at him over the quilt. Goddess help him. Her dark hair had come out of its braid and hung tousled to her shoulders, and her face was flushed with sleep. Zander wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the nest with her and snuggle down into her warmth.
Zander pulled on his T-shirt, realizing that his chest was dotted with love bites. Rae liked to chew on him.
“I can get rid of them if you want,” Zander said to her. “Send them to your dad’s house. We’ll meet them there.”
“No.” Rae threw back the quilts and dragged a hand through her hair. With her breasts bared, the covers bunching around her hips, she was sexier than ever. “I want to talk to them. Why do you think they can fix the sword?”
“Because they’re good with metal. You sure you want them in here?”
Rae nodded. “Give me a sec and I’ll come out.”
Zander’s mating frenzy, not sated at all, buzzed as he watched Rae reaching for the garments strewn around the bedroom. The curve of her back as she leaned to the floor led to her tight backside; the soft round of her breast moved as she snatched up her tank top.
It was all Zander could do to turn away from her, shutting out the seductive sight as he closed the bedroom door and went to admit two Lupines grouchy from traveling. Air and morning light rushed in as he opened the front door, along with Broderick and Mason.
“Nice place,” Broderick said, looking around. “No way they let Shifters in here.”
Zander didn’t answer. He made an expansive gesture to the living room. “Make yourself at home.”
Mason plopped to the sofa and put his booted feet on the coffee table. “You don’t have a TV in here.”
“It’s supposed to be romantic,” Zander told him. “You don’t bring a lady out into the woods and then watch football. Or baseball. Whatever the humans are playing now. You fish all day, make love all night. No need for television.”
“Barbaric,” Mason said, shaking his head. “At least tell me there’s beer.”
Broderick took the chair next to the sofa and stretched out his long legs. “There’s wine.” Broderick waved at the two empty bottles that stood by the nearly gutted basket. “At least, there was. Romance, remember?” He turned aggrieved gray eyes on Zander. “You’d think the idiot didn’t have a mate.”
“How is Jazz?” Zander asked Mason. He remembered the cute woman who’d found him in his remote Alaskan cabin when he’d sworn he’d covered his trail. She’d looked at Mason as though her world changed when she cast her eyes upon him.
Mason lost his mock sullenness and flushed. “Jasmine’s good. Really good.”
“He’s being modest,” Broderick said. “What he’s not telling you is he got a cub on her. She’s due around the first of next year.”
“Awesome news,” Zander said in all sincerity. He came up behind Mason and clapped his hands on the younger Shifter’s shoulders. “Congratulations, kid.”
“The blessing of the Goddess upon you,” Rae’s voice came to them from the now-open bedroom door. Rae stood poised on the threshold, once more in her jeans and white tank top, the sheathed Sword of the Guardian in her hands. “Cubs are wonderful things.” She sounded wistful, as though she didn’t quite believe she’d have cubs of her own.
Both Broderick and Mason came to their feet, gazing at Rae in amazement. Rae gave them her gray-eyed stare in return, fearless as always. She wasn’t afraid of two blustering, overly arrogant Lupines.
To Zander’s surprise Broderick and Mason said nothing. Not So, is this her? Or Yeah, I can see why you didn’t answer the door. They only stared, stunned, and Rae didn’t move.
“This is Rae Lyall,” Zander said. “Guardian of the Montana Shiftertown. Rae—that’s Broderick McNaughton and his youngest brother, Mason. They’re luthiers and also do metalworking of amazing intricacy. They’re artists.”
“He means we make guitars and other stringed instruments,” Broderick rumbled. “And music boxes. Real ones, with clockwork gears.”
Mason shook himself out of his stupor and silently opened the backpack he’d slung to the couch. He drew out a box of meticulously inlaid and polished wood and held it out to Rae.
Rae’s face softened as she set the sword on the table and took the box in curiosity. It was very small, about three inches by two, the lid embedded with a mosaic of crushed semiprecious stones.
Rae opened the box and Zander came to look at it over her shoulder. The innards consisted of a gleaming brass cylinder covered with bumps and the tiniest cogs and wheels he’d ever seen. He knew that every piece had been fabricated by Mason’s and Broderick’s large, blunt hands in their hidden workshop in a warehouse district in Austin.
“You turn it on here.” Mason stepped forward and clicked a switch next to the cylinder.
Music filled the room. The box didn’t have the simple tinny tinkle of cheap music boxes sold at gift shops, but a full, rich resonance. Zander didn’t know what the piece of music was but it was complex and beautiful.
“Jasmine wrote the tune,” Mason said, sounding almost shy. “She thought you’d like it.”
“I do.” Rae closed the box and held it to her chest. “It’s beautiful. Tell her thank you.”
Mason kept staring at Rae and so did Broderick. Zander lifted the Sword of the Guardian from the table. “All right, stop ogling my mate. I asked you up here for your professional opinion.”
Broderick’s gaze moved to Zander, his eyes lighting. “Mate?”
Zander hadn’t realized the word had come out of his mouth. But why not? He’d been thinking of Rae and mate synonymously for a while now.
“You heard me.” Zander started to unsheathe the sword and then realized the other three hadn’t followed him.
He glanced back to see Mason and Broderick still staring at Rae, as though they’d never seen a female Lupine before. Of course she was sexy and beautiful and also the first female Guardian they’d ever seen, but even so . . .
“Leave her alone,” Zander said, his protectiveness surging.
“Sorry,” Mason said. “It’s just that you look a lot like—I mean a lot like . . .”
“Our mom,” Broderick finished.
Rae blinked. “Your mom?” Zander looked at them in surprise too.
“Our mom when she was younger,” Broderick amended. “She passed a few years back. But we have pictures of her. You’re her spitting image.”
Rae’s face lost color, her eyes becoming a lighter gray. “How can I be?”
Zander came to stand next to her and pinned Broderick with his stare. “What are you trying to say?”
Mason shrugged and answered for him. “I don’t think we’re saying anything. It’s just weird.”
Not to a woman who’d never known her family. Rae had no idea who she was or where she’d come from. Now two Lupines were telling her she resembled a matriarch of their pack, which might mean Rae was related to them, or at least was a member of their clan.
Zander tried to calm his specul
ations. It wasn’t all that mysterious for Shifters to resemble one another. Each Shifter species had been bred from similar genetic stock eons ago. Rae was a black wolf and these guys were gray—though their mother’s clan might have been black wolf. Zander didn’t want to give Rae false hope but he didn’t want to crush the hope either.
“We’ll check,” Zander promised her. “How about we fix the sword first?”
Rae shook herself. “Sure.” She made herself turn away from the two Lupines, take the sword from him, withdraw the broken pieces, and lay them on the table.
Broderick stepped forward and looked down at the blade in dismay. “Oh, come on,” he groaned. “I just put this damned thing back together.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Rae blinked as Broderick balled his fists and glared at Zander. The sword, as though waking from sleep, started to hum. Loudly.
“Zander didn’t break it,” Rae said over the noise. “I did.”
“This is Daragh’s sword, isn’t it?” Broderick asked. “The one that was stolen? Yeah, I recognize its tone.”
The sword swelled into a happy crescendo and then thankfully died away into a quiet ring. Rae knew the story of Broderick returning this sword after it had been stolen—he’d been the one to release Daragh from the Fae and finally send him to dust. Rae hadn’t witnessed the dusting—only Daragh’s immediate family and her father as Shiftertown leader had been there.
“The medallion was broken off when I found it,” Broderick told Rae. “But it went back together without much effort. Why won’t it do that now?”
Zander said, “If I knew how to fix it, I wouldn’t have called you. The sword likes you, Broderick, and you’re good at making metal parts for your boxes and instruments. I figured if anyone had a chance at putting it back together, it was you.”
Mason put his fists on the table, gazing at the sword with the same interest as Broderick. “Instrument making and swordsmithing are two different things,” he said.
“Not really.” Zander touched the hilt. “Hot metal, artistry . . . Like the samurai swords. They’re weapons and works of art at the same time. I would have taken this to the man who made my samurai swords but he’s been dead a couple hundred years.”
“The Shifter swordsmith has been gone even longer,” Broderick said dryly. “Seems wrong that the skill wasn’t handed down.”
“I’m guessing no one thought we’d need it,” Zander said. “The swords lasted eight hundred years without a problem before.”
“Goddess, I hope they all don’t start breaking,” Broderick grumbled.
Mason ran his fingers along the blade. Rae held her breath but he touched it without trouble, no burning.
When Broderick had gazed at her with such intensity and announced she resembled their mother, her heart had leapt and her pulse hadn’t calmed since.
It wasn’t so farfetched to believe they were related—Shifter clans had been broken up when they were put into Shiftertowns, with clan members scattered all over the world. Rae’s mother could have been separated from her clan long before her death. She had no idea.
Also, Broderick had succeeded in driving this very sword through Daragh’s heart and sending him to dust. Only a Guardian could dust another Guardian. Broderick wasn’t one, but the story went that the sword chose him to help out Daragh. Afterward, Eoin had asked Broderick to stay in Montana and see if he’d be their Shiftertown’s next Guardian but Broderick had declined.
Six months after that, Rae had been chosen. If Broderick and Rae were related, all this would make sense—they both might be descended from a Guardian, or at least from a clan with Guardian blood.
Zander had given her a warning look when Broderick made his pronouncement. He didn’t want her to get too excited in case they proved to be no relation at all.
Rae couldn’t help it. For the first time in her life there was a possibility that she’d found her family. She hadn’t met Broderick when he’d come here to send Daragh to the Summerland—he’d left the moment he’d finished and Rae had never seen him.
Broderick touched the hilt but he did it in trepidation, as though he expected a spark or flame. Nothing happened—the sword remained a cold hunk of silver.
“We’ll need a forge,” Broderick said, resigned.
“No problem,” Zander said. “I know—”
“Cheese and rice, Zander,” Rae cut him off. “You can’t know a guy who has a forge.”
Zander’s dark eyes sparkled. “Sure I do. You know him too. You boys up for a trip north?”
* * *
Rae found herself once more saying good-bye to her father and brothers and once again boarding Marlo’s cargo plane and heading north to Alaska. Carson stayed behind, as did Ezra, both of them wanting to help Eoin in the search for the Shifters who’d hurt Carson’s wife.
Eoin didn’t question Zander’s abrupt announcement that they needed to return to Alaska but by his look, he was going to soon demand the whole story. He was trusting Rae—and Zander—but he’d want the truth. Rae hoped to be able to tell him while showing him the repaired sword.
The guy Zander knew who had a forge was Piotr. The plane landed at an isolated air strip north of Homer in the middle of the night, but Piotr was there, in Zander’s own truck, to pick them up.
Piotr hopped out of the cab and came at them with arms outstretched. “My friends!” he boomed. “It is good to see you again!”
He threw his arms around Rae first, lifting her in an exuberant hug, his smile as big as ever.
“You are keeping Zander from trouble, yes?” he asked Rae when he thumped her back to her feet. “You will love my wife, young Rae. She is so looking forward to meeting you.”
Rae hoped Piotr didn’t exaggerate. Any woman might be alarmed at her husband bringing home three large and loud Shifter males and a young woman with a broken sword.
Broderick and Mason were a little distrustful of Piotr at first but by the time they were halfway to Piotr’s house in Nikolaevsk, the brothers were joking and laughing with the man like old friends.
Piotr lived in a large house on a stretch of land a little outside the town. The night sky was a riot of stars when they arrived, swaths of white unfolding in majesty.
Piotr’s house went with him—the interior was filled with bright colors, deep-pile rugs, and soft furniture, everything made for comfort. A corner of the living room contained a cloth-draped niche covered with medieval-looking pictures of a mother and child done up in blacks, golds, and reds. Icons, Zander told Rae. They depicted the mother goddess of Piotr’s religion.
The entire house had been furnished for practicality yet coziness. Winters here were long and dark but Piotr’s house would be cheerful with a fire on the big hearth and the kitchen bubbling with good smells.
Even in summer, with the light lingering, the kitchen held thick, warm scents. Piotr’s wife, Irena, came to greet them, a ladle in her hand. When introductions had been made, which included Irena pulling Rae into a firm embrace, she led the way to the kitchen, waving the ladle and telling them she hoped they’d brought appetites.
Irena was not as bulky as her husband, but her face was as pink, her eyes as bright, though hers were hazel. She had a blue scarf over her hair, so Rae could not see its color, but her brows were dark. Irena wore a long skirt and blouse, which she moved around in with ease as she served a meaty stew plump with dumplings.
She had beer for the Shifters, coffee and tea for whoever wanted it, and water for her sons, no matter how much they protested they were old enough to drink beer. One was nine, the other seven.
The kids already loved Zander and didn’t seem too worried about Mason and Broderick. The clamored to tell Zander all about the cool things they’d done since they last saw him and wanted to show him Dad’s new snowmobile and other things.
Finally Piotr raised his voice. “I cannot hear a word in my own house. Zander is a guest. Let him eat his meal in peace, volchok.”
Zander rumbled a lau
gh. He gazed across the table at Rae, his dark eyes holding her. “That’s what I call you. It means Little Wolf.”
Rae’s face went very hot, especially under the interested looks of the entire Ivanov family. “What’s Russian for big-ass bear?” she asked, sounding innocent.
“Zander,” Piotr said, and then roared with laughter.
The others laughed too, the meal ending jovially.
Rae had never known that humans could be as close and loving as Shifters, though she admitted she’d never had much contact with them. Humans were the people who’d locked away Shifters, but since she’d met Zander, she’d realized that humans had degrees of good and evil, just like Shifters.
Once supper was over, Piotr led them out to his big shed where he stored his snowmobiles and kept his forge.
Rae wasn’t certain what she’d expected when Zander had said “forge.” She pictured a wide hearth with a roaring fire, a big anvil, and iron everywhere, but she’d never seen a real smithy, only read about old-fashioned ones. Piotr gestured them to a box about two feet square that rested on a stand, with propane bottles nestled on the stand’s bottom shelf. The opening to the firebox was on the forge’s side, to contain the heat inside, Rae supposed.
Piotr flipped a few switches and got the forge going. “Takes a little bit to warm up,” he said. “You think it will be safe for your sword?”
“Sure, if we don’t plunge it in and leave it to melt,” Zander said. “This is why I asked Broderick and Mason to try. They know how to work soft metals without ruining them, and the sword already likes Broderick.”
“Don’t remind me,” Broderick said, grimacing. “I was glad to see the back of that thing.” The sword, which Rae had laid on a workbench near the forge, hummed once then went silent. Broderick glared at it. “And I hate when it does that.”
Piotr, who’d heard nothing, glanced curiously at them then went back to setting out his supplies on the workbench. He had several anvils of different sizes, hammers, files, and other tools Rae didn’t recognize.
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