The Vow (Black Arrowhead Series Book 1)

by Dannika Dark

  I handed it over and watched him analyze it closely.

  “Here,” he said, pointing near two faded lines. “The turnoff is right past my place. It’s easy to get lost in Running Horse. We’re not on the map. Want me to show you the way?”

  “No, that’s not necessary. If I can navigate I-35, I can do anything. Thanks for the info.” I hopped off my stool and dug through my purse.

  “Don’t I get a name? Or should I just call you Violet?”

  “So we’re here?” I asked, pointing at intersecting lines to confirm.

  When I answered his question with a question, he stared at me for a spell. Finally, Crow shook his head and moved my finger to the left. “No, darlin’, we’re here. Careful not to lose your way.”

  I set a twenty-dollar bill under my bottle and decided not to ask for the change. Not that the food or the atmosphere was stellar, but better not to burn a bridge while I was still standing on it. I decided to save my matches for later.

  “See you ’round?” Crow asked. “I’m here most days, just in case you change your mind and want some company. There’s not much to do around here but drink, hunt, and play bingo.”

  A group of men drifted toward the billiard room. Lakota was among them and deep in conversation with a shorter man. He didn’t look my way, and I took that as my cue to leave. I wasn’t sure whether I would tell Hope about our chance meeting or keep it to myself until the next time Lakota swung into town. Either way, it was going on my list of weird encounters of the Shifter kind.

  I smiled at Crow and grabbed the map. “Arrivederci.”

  “Music to my ears.”

  Chapter 4

  “Music to my ears?” I muttered while driving. “What was that supposed to mean?”

  The rain had finally tapered off, but I still drove way below the speed limit so as not to miss any turns. Crow’s enigmatic reply had me baffled, and I thought about what I’d said to him before leaving the bar. So I grabbed my phone and did a quick lookup of the word arrivederci.

  “Until we meet again? Swell. All this time, I thought it meant goodbye. So much for being the educated city girl.” I tossed the phone in the seat next to me. “Now he’s going to think I was coming on to him.”

  Shifters—especially wolves—loved the dance of hard to get. Men had to prove their worth. Living with a pack had taught me that a woman should set the bar high so her suitors would work hard to win her affection.

  Hopefully Crow had interpreted my fumbled remarks as disinterest and not an invitation to pursue me. The last thing I needed was some smooth-talking Shifter with a sexy smile and blue cowboy boots following me around with his tail wagging. Or worse, following me all the way back home to Austin.

  I turned off the air conditioner to keep from shivering to death since my clothes were still wet. It didn’t take long before the air inside the Jeep felt stuffy, especially with the humidity and heat outside. Still, a little rain was always a nice reprieve from the scorching July heat.

  My stomach cramped again, reminding me to never again eat strange, improperly cooked meats. Or maybe it was the fries. Something wasn’t agreeing with me, and it felt like a civil war brewing in my digestive tract.

  The blinker clicked noisily as I turned right and traveled up a bumpy dirt road. Mud splashed on the undercarriage, and tiny pebbles popped against the metal frame. Signs warned against trespassing, and one cautioned to look out for venomous snakes. I had to laugh. Packs often put up signs along their property to scare away nosy humans. Then again, maybe the place really was infested with snakes. I shuddered at the thought. I hated snakes. Maybe hate was too mild a word to describe how much I loathed them.

  In the dimming afternoon light, dark clouds loomed, weighted with the promise of more rain. A man walking in my direction turned a sharp eye at me. I slowed the vehicle and waved so he could get a good look and see that I wasn’t a threat. His expression remained impassive, and when I continued driving, I looked in the rearview mirror and noticed a long braid down his back like the men I’d seen in the bar.

  “Nice digs.”

  Shikoba lived in a two-story cabin of epic proportions. But to call it a cabin was a gross understatement. A long balcony stretched around the outside of the entire second floor, and it had either third-level suites or attic space. Several vehicles, though not enough to crowd the property, were parked along the tree line to the right. If they lived off the land and did most of their work out of the house, they probably had no need for more than a few. Brown gravel covered the front yard, providing traction and protecting the Jeep from the red dirt beneath.

  I stared at a group of men standing on a cleared plot of land to the left. Some of them had muddy shoes and hands, and one of them twirled an axe. Had I not seen the target boards made of tree slices, I might have turned the Jeep around and called it a day.

  One of the men jogged up to my Jeep and pounded his fist on the hood. I stopped the vehicle and shut off the engine. He must not have wanted me to park by their vehicles. Understandable. The last thing I wanted to do was piss these guys off by leaving a scratch on somebody’s pickup.

  As I hopped out, I noticed five women sitting in rocking chairs on the front porch. They were quietly talking, their eyes on me, and I had a feeling they didn’t get visitors too often.

  I took a step back when a ferocious-looking man with tribal markings all over the left side of his face approached me. He was a beast with a menacing presence. A man like him could easily have a lucrative career in professional wrestling.

  He regarded me for a moment. “Are you Miss Church?”

  I bit my lip. There must have been some kind of miscommunication.

  A little girl came sprinting toward us, her pigtails bouncing like springs with every step. When she insistently tugged on the man’s hand, he scooped her into his arms and anchored her against his left hip.

  I shut the door. “I’m here to speak with Shikoba.”

  The toddler’s eyes widened as she took in my hair color. I gave her a gleeful smile and bobbled my head back and forth playfully. When she reached out to touch it, the man swung away.

  “Come with me,” he said.

  I followed him, stealing a glance at the men to my left. They stood motionless. One of them spat and turned his back to me. I had to remind myself I wasn’t in Austin. If the encounter with the locals back at the bar was any indication of the fractured relationships in this community, I had a feeling they didn’t trust anyone who wasn’t in their tribe.

  When we ascended onto the porch, the women steered their eyes away. Hope had taught me that Native Shifters were very different from the human tribes. They had their own unique languages, traditions, and way of life. Many tribes didn’t welcome outsiders to live with them, especially other animals. Hope’s family was an exception—an example of how the younger generations were branching off and running their packs differently. But her father still held fast to the belief that only Shifters should live in a pack, preferably wolves.

  My family had different opinions on the matter.

  When we entered the cabin, a double-sided stone fireplace in the center of the room drew my attention. It was flanked by simple furniture, which told me that the pack spent a lot of time socializing. The room had a lofty quality, with high ceilings and wood floors. The architecture seemed to suppress the desire to isolate oneself.

  The man set the little girl down on a woven rug littered with wooden animals. She clutched a pony to her chest as I followed Mr. Beefcake to a narrow sunroom at the back of the house. It was closed off, affording privacy without the feeling of seclusion because of the tall windows that overlooked the back of the property.

  An older man I presumed to be Shikoba greeted me with a nod from his brown chair. He tapped his hand on a wooden table and gestured for me to take the seat in front of him. I sat down, and the chair felt as leathery and lived-in as Shikoba’s skin appeared.

  After the door closed and we were alone, he plucked a blac
kberry from a wooden bowl and ate it. “You don’t look like a Church.”

  “I’m Hope’s partner and best friend. I came in her stead.”

  He pushed the bowl forward to offer me some. “I know her people. Our tribes were allies in the days of war centuries ago. Why would she not come to see me face-to-face?”

  I wasn’t sure what to say without inadvertently offending him, so I danced around the answer. “Our store is opening soon, and she has to finish as many designs as possible. We’ve fallen behind.”

  He licked his finger and never tore his gaze from mine. “I’m familiar with her mother’s people. Good people. What a shame her grandmother fell for such a heartless man.” He tapped the rim of the bowl.

  Even though my stomach was still queasy, I graciously accepted a plump blackberry. “Thank you for the honor of inviting me into your home, Mr. Shikoba.”

  A smirk formed on his weathered face, and his whiskey-colored eyes twinkled. Unlike the other men in the tribe, who wore single braids, Shikoba had two thin ones. A few black hairs were woven in with the grey as if they were too stubborn to concede to aging. “You can leave off the formal title. Most people call me Father or Chief, and I am neither to you.”

  “I’m Melody.”

  He chuckled and looked at my hair. “Of course you are. And tell me about your family, Melody…”

  “Cole. Melody Cole. I’m recently independent, but I grew up in the Weston pack. My uncle’s the Packmaster, and his brother is the beta. We’re a tight family. My brothers are both alphas,” I added, hoping that would impress him.

  “Twin alphas,” he said, connecting the dots. “Very uncommon.” Shikoba hooked his finger on the bowl and dragged it toward him. “You come from a good family that sticks together. Many brothers separate because of pride.”

  “All of my uncles live in the same pack.”

  “I heard about your troubles when the war broke out. Austin Cole carries a solid reputation with the Iwa tribe. It’s a shame he doesn’t hold the daughters of his pack closer. Our women stay unless they choose to mate someone from another tribe.”

  “So they’re just waiting around to get mated?” I grimaced, realizing the moment the remark flew out of my mouth that it sounded like an insult.

  Shikoba plucked another blackberry from the bowl and slowly chewed on it. “Our women hunt, fish, garden, build, and help the men with teaching the children. If they choose not to mate, they will still have a place in my home. They are equals in this house. Are they not in yours?”

  “We believe it causes issues if the children don’t leave the home when they come of age.”

  His eyebrows arched knowingly. “Those issues can be easily resolved. I would much rather see the men leave my pack than the women. They are the foundation this tribe is built upon. If two men cannot resolve their differences because of their affections for the same woman, then one of them must go.” His eyes flashed down to my turquoise necklace, and he admired it. “Do you know what that necklace means?”

  I furrowed my brow and lifted the turtle-shaped pendant encased in silver. “Hope made it.”

  He picked a seed from between his teeth. “Everything we make with our hands tells a story, and if it doesn’t, it’s not worth having. Every small detail, every bend of the metal, every color of the stone, every imperfection—it is like reading a book. You should ask your friend someday the story that goes with that necklace you wear so frivolously around your neck. She chose a cracked stone for the body, and that is very unusual.”

  I hadn’t realized I was touching my bracelet until his gaze skated down.

  “Sister,” he read off the metal. “Perhaps you don’t need to ask after all. I wonder if your spirit animals knew each other in another life.”

  I nodded. Who am I to argue? “We heard you’re one of the best and distribute top-quality stones.”

  “It’s unfortunate for you.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked, reaching in my purse for the notebook with our sales figures and projected earnings for the year.

  “I don’t deal with whiteskins.”

  My hopes were dashed, but I didn’t have the sense he was trying to be offensive. Perhaps I just needed to win him over. Undeterred, I held a neutral expression and set the notebook on the table between us. “These are the numbers we’ve done so far this year. I have a monthly calculation of our profit increase as well as new-customer growth. I’m sure Hope filled you in that we’re opening a store soon. We’re already backed up with preorders and need to stock up our inventory.”

  He pushed the notebook away. “Numbers aren’t important to me.”

  “Then what is?”

  He rested his arms on the table and gave me a dispassionate look. “What do you think my people value above all else?”

  Without hesitation, I answered, “Family. Loyalty.”

  Shikoba nodded. “Unless you have ancient tribal blood flowing in your veins, I cannot trust you. No white man has ever made a deal with my people that wasn’t to benefit himself.”

  “I’m not those men,” I said sharply, holding my ground. “I’m a wolf, and that should be trust enough. Our cultures are different, but your family’s not so different from mine. We bleed for each other and fight to protect what’s ours. I know the value of trust, and that’s what I’m offering you.”

  “And what of your last supplier?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, arms folded. “Why are you in need of a replacement so close to the opening of your store?”

  I mulled the question over. “He raised his prices,” I said truthfully.

  Shikoba dipped his chin. “And now I know how quickly you will cast me aside if I renegotiate.”

  I clenched my hands beneath the table, trying to quell my frustration. “We see this as a blessing in disguise. Hope doesn’t want to deal with outsiders for the same reason as you. She values the relationships among the tribes and would prefer doing business with the tribes. If you raise your rates to a fair price, that’s one thing. But jacking up prices because you see a golden ticket is another matter, and that’s the position we were put in by our previous dealer. He was manipulating and browbeating us.” I leaned forward and smoothed out the rough edges in my voice. “If I can get Hope to come up here, will you negotiate?”

  He slowly shook his head.

  “So this has to do with me,” I said to myself, sighing deeply and lowering my head.

  Even though Hope had two other guys lined up, she’d said Shikoba was her first choice. Few could secure a contract with him, and his pieces were of the finest quality—rumored to be blessed by their spiritual leaders. I’d given him my best pitch, but in the end, the real disappointment was knowing that I’d blown the deal. Hope would eventually find someone else, but she might secretly resent having partnered with me. Am I going to be the one who held her back from the deal of a lifetime? The reason she can only sell second-rate gemstones?

  “Why didn’t you just turn me away instead of inviting me in and wasting my time?”

  “What kind of host would I be? How a man treats a stranger says more about his character than how he treats his family.”

  “What about the guy who smacks his woman around but gives a big tip to the waitress?”

  Something dark flashed in his eyes. “How many packs do you know that would allow a man to beat his female? Even raise a hand to her in threat? With Shifters, masks are worn among family. You remember that, young wolf. A man will kiss his mother to keep peace within the pack, but he will always show his true face among strangers. He will berate women, disrespect his peers, and frighten children. You cannot trust a man with a painted smile and a stony heart. My mind was made up from the moment I saw you, but I respected you enough to offer my hospitality and hear what you had to say. You seem like a strong woman with a good head on your shoulders, even if your hair is the color of a wildflower that grows north of here.”

  The sky was darkening outside, and I glanced around for a clock.

&nb
sp; “Is there somewhere you must be?” he asked.

  I collected my notebook and tucked it back in my purse. “I need to find a motel before dusk. The roads around here are like a labyrinth, and I don’t want to get lost in the dark.”

  Shikoba gripped a cane and rose to his feet. “You’re a brave young wolf to journey so far into unfamiliar territory. That will get you far in this life. Let me show you out.”

  I lollygagged on my way to the door and admired the backyard. “You have a nice piece of land.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, his feet shuffling across the floor. “It’s been in my family since I was a boy.”

  Wow. That was certainly a long time. Shikoba must have been around eight hundred. Shifters aged slowly and lived different life spans, but most of us didn’t live past a thousand. Those who lived that long were purebloods from royal lines, and not many existed since most Shifters at some point in the family tree had interbred with another animal type.

  The smell of homemade bread wafted from an adjacent room as we headed to the front door. Instead of salivating, I felt a wave of nausea creep over me—probably one reason I was eager to leave the premises so hastily.

  Shikoba’s cane tapped on the front porch, and the women bowed to him as they went inside. A small truck was parked next to my Jeep, and when I swung my eyes to the right, a wave of terror came over me.

  Lakota was standing amid the group of men, the sun catching on his bare chest. He’d stripped out of his jacket and T-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. His shoulders were broad and rounded with muscle, and his torso tapered down to the V in his abdomen, which I could see because of the way his jeans were slung low on his hips. His golden skin glowed, though it wasn’t as dark as those who surrounded him.

  Someone handed him an axe, and he hefted it for a moment before reaching over his shoulder. His bicep tightened when he threw the weapon with incredible precision. The sharp blade struck the target dead center, and cheers erupted. Lakota had always been athletically gifted—good at pool, a great swimmer, faster than most of the men in Lorenzo’s pack, and not too bad at basketball either. But I’d never seen him throw a weapon before. Not like that.