“Yes, I want to hang out while you study. No, I won’t be bored; I have this new game on my phone—”
Alexandre’s voice cut off with a laugh.
“Okay, I promise,” he said indulgently, right before one of them knocked.
Leila and Alexandre stood in front of the glass doors, Alexandre carrying a bag full of Leila’s books and notes, a fiction book of his own and a pair of large blue headphones thrown on top.
Wish felt himself smiling. He’d grade papers later—he always made time for Leila, who was almost always accompanied by Alexandre. She was easily the brightest student in his Southern Fiction After 1850 class, and one of the best at Tulane.
She was set to graduate with honors in the spring, with a number of growing scholarships taking care of her school expenses. After seeing the way she worked the past spring semester, Wish had made a few calls, deciding she deserved more than just dance scholarships—she’d earned academic funding as well.
The university had agreed.
He helped her when she became stuck in her studies, especially given that she’d decided, at the last minute, to double major in dance and English. Wish had been overjoyed by her decision—he was the head of the English department.
I’m having issues with Milton, she signed, miming a noose tightening around her neck and pulling.
Alexandre snorted with laughter.
Wish shook his head. Paradise Lost wasn’t an easy text, but he knew that professor—he wasn’t an easy man. Most students who managed to earn Cs in the class considered themselves lucky, genuinely proud of the grade.
Leila put too much pressure on herself to ever be happy with merely passing. At the end of the prior spring semester, she’d been up to her neck in loans and homeless, her sister Mary trying her hardest to earn enough money to put Leila through school in a way that would allow her sister to focus on her dreams.
Wish respected Mary’s dedication to her sister’s education more than she knew, and Mary’s hard work drove Leila to push herself that much more academically, refusing to waste the opportunity she’d been given.
Leila knew what it was to see a college degree ripped out from underneath someone—it had happened to Mary, something Wish was working on fixing. He wasn’t an expert on weapons like the man Mary was about to marry next month, but he had a good handle on all things academic, and he owed these people everything. They’d given Molly back to him.
After an hour of explaining the obscure references Leila’s professor had cited, he decided to try and talk about the issue Leila always skated around, refusing to address in her bold attempt to be a normal college student.
But she wasn’t normal. Before entering college, Leila had died—murdered by people she wouldn’t speak about. Wish was lucky she’d admitted the truth to him at all, but she wouldn’t discuss her immortality or its consequences.
The fact was, if she kept going on the path she was currently taking, people would get hurt. Leila had no idea the havoc she could wreak upon her classmates, her roommates and her sister. She wasn’t a typical banshee—she’d been deaf when she died, and because of the type creature she was, that changed everything. She had to learn control, and Wish could find someone to teach her.
“We should talk about—”
Leila shook her head vigorously, her blonde hair flying around her. No, she signed sharply.
Alexandre kept his headphones on, but Wish was under no illusion that the werewolf couldn’t hear them. In fact, he was depending on Alexandre to eavesdrop.
“No matter what we discuss, you will graduate this year. You’ll have the opportunity to pursue more school if you want, or a career in dance if you’d like, and no one will stop you. You know you have an army at your back,” Wish said truthfully. “But I can’t let you keep pretending you’re mortal. I’ve noticed your bursts of energy, heard about you leaving classes early, and it’s because you aren’t handling your powers.”
Now the headphones were ripped off. Alexandre threw them on the floor and stood, his eyes blazing. “What does he mean, you’re immortal?”
Leila shot Wish a look of pure venom. I just wanted to feel normal, she signed angrily. If no one has to know I died, why should I tell them? Do you know what it would do to my sister if she knew her whole family was killed that night?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Alexandre roared, obviously straining himself in his attempt to keep from tearing apart Wish’s house. Even trying to keep calm, Alex’s claws were out, his eyes flicking from blue to yellow. “I thought you trusted me.”
I do trust you, Leila signed desperately. You’re my best friend—I’ve told you more than I tell Mary, but if I talked to you about my death it would only make it more real.
Her eyes narrowed, and Wish knew she was about to sign something she would later regret. You haven’t told me what you did to become a criminal, Leila signed, her chin raised. You won’t tell me where you’re from, either, what your family is or was like. How can you say I don’t trust you, when you haven’t trusted me at all?
They stared at each other furiously, but Alexandre tore his gaze away first, his mouth a thin line as he looked to Wish. “How much of a danger is she?” he asked, his voice ragged.
Wish had never seen the other man so angry. Out of all the weres in his pack, Alexandre was easily the most even-tempered. Unfortunately, what Wish had to say would do nothing for Alex’s newfound rage.
“She could kill someone without meaning to.” From the research he’d done, every deaf banshee had accidentally killed. It tore them apart, changing something within them that couldn’t be fixed.
Wish didn’t want that for Leila, for the stubborn woman who worked so hard to become a professional dancer.
Would she be able to forgive herself if she killed half of her audience in a slip of control? If, in a moment of passion, she opened her mouth and released such power their human minds shut down forever?
No. She’d never be the same, just like the others.
I would never hurt anyone! Leila signed, her movements large, held out toward their faces. I have never hurt anyone.
“But you will, isn’t that what you’re saying, Wish?”
Wish nodded solemnly.
Alexandre raised his eyes to Leila’s, his anger and hurt apparent in his stricken expression. “You have a choice, Lay. Either you work on this, or I tell Mary you’re dead.”
You cannot tell her. Tears were forming in Leila’s eyes, rapidly welling to spill over her cheeks. Soon they were hitting the floor quietly. She’s only recently found happiness—I can’t ruin it for her.
“What happened, Leila?” Wish asked quietly.
Leila didn’t answer for a long moment, allowing herself to be wrapped tightly in Alexandre’s arms. She shook while she sobbed silently, Alexandre murmuring quiet reassurances in her ear.
It was moments like this, moments when Wish knew they were meant for each other, that he wished he could have that bond for himself. It was a selfish, but intrinsically human notion. The only woman in his life who made his blood boil was Thérèse, and it was not in a pleasurable way.
In all the months he’d cared for Molly, she still found him wanting as a father, insisting to come over multiple times a week to look after his child’s well-being. Wish would have been grateful, but the woman had such a sharp tongue, the only reasonable reaction to her was stark fear.
A few minutes later, Leila turned in her future mate’s grip, resting her back against his front. She can’t ever know, she signed, her blue eyes bright from her tears but her expression resigned, heavily burdened. Mary doesn’t know anything about our parents, our family. The knowledge would change everything for her, and make her a target.
As soon as they find out I’m still alive, they’ll kill me again, just like they killed our mother. Did you know she was a banshee too, and immortal? We always joked about how the women from the Irish side of our family had such good gen
es, but it turns out most of them didn’t age at all.
Above her head, Alex’s eyes glowed gold.
I know it’s supposed to be difficult to kill an immortal banshee, she signed.
Leila looked old, Wish realized. It was why no one thought twice about her somewhat young appearance. She hadn’t aged since she was eighteen, but she held an age beyond her years in her eyes, in the slump of her shoulders.
For them, it’s as easy as breathing, she finished.
Just like that, Wish knew Leila had entrusted himself and Alexandre with her life.
I’ll see whoever you want, do whatever you ask, so long as you never tell my sister.
Alexandre turned her to face him, pulling her against his chest. His eyes met Wish’s in silent question.
Wish nodded slightly.
Something was coming for Leila, and they had to be prepared. Because no one else in the pack would know about this danger, about the cloud of sorrow Leila had to break through every day of her life.
Not even their Alpha, who kept nothing from his beloved mate.
It was no wonder Leila tried so hard to be normal, to earn everything she could—she knew the same people who killed her once were going to come back and finish what they started.
Wish and Alexandre would make sure that didn’t happen. If he couldn’t protect Leila, Wish surely couldn’t protect his own daughter.
The time had come for the creatures that came to New Orleans to realize Wish Sutherland was someone they didn’t want to fuck with. Leila and the pack had no idea what he was capable of, but someday they would.
No one hurt those who Wish cared about and survived.
* * * *
Aiyanna had liked Theo.
Really, she did—until he tried to tell her she couldn’t hang out at the firehouse. Her hackles had raised on principle. Sure, Theo had every reason to be jealous and possessive of her. She was meant for Cael, who brutally rejected her at every chance.
She’d never hidden the way she felt about Cael. If Theo asked her, she’d tell him honestly that there was no comparison: she’d choose Cael over absolutely anyone in a heartbeat, no questions asked. That, she suspected, was why Theo had never directly spoken to her about her relationship with the other werewolf.
But she’d been willing to give him a chance. Theo was so sweet and handsome, and she knew he would never coldly reject her. So she let him flirt with her, let him think he could take care of her.
She needed a break from the cruelty.
Aiyanna could feel herself becoming more and more fragile with every blow Cael dealt. He would never lay a hand on her—not even in a fun way—but he knew what he was doing with those words he pulled like swords, his intention to keep her at bay, if only for a little longer. His tactics were beginning to work, and she could feel her very soul dying from his efforts.
She knew nothing could be permanent with Theo. They weren’t mates because Aiyanna would be mated to Cael. She’d known it since the moment she met him five years ago.
She was visiting a friend at the Oat Mill in the Warehouse District, the same building where film production companies owned half the apartments, letting the stars stay in them while they filmed in the city. Her friend had sworn up and down that Ryan Gosling was living next door to her, and Aiyanna wanted to see for herself.
Bethany had been right—she was the actor’s temporary neighbor, and Aiyanna had scored his number with a smile and a top cut so low that her breasts had stayed where they were meant to by a whispered prayer.
Minutes after receiving Ryan Gosling’s number, she’d seen Cael for the first time, walking alone to an old firehouse. She’d crumpled up the paper a ridiculous amount of women would have killed for because this was the man she was meant to be with. She knew her body would fit his perfectly, and his kiss would pull her in and never let her go.
He. Was. It.
She’d sashayed up to him, knowing he’d noticed her too, and almost stopped in her tracks at the frigid glare he’d sent her way. It read, “Stay the hell away from me, or you’ll be sorry.”
Part of her was sorry.
But the dominant portion of her was glad because she knew he understood who they were for each other. He’d never touched her, but he’d also never let anyone else touch her either. He was fiercely protective, keeping her from harm anytime she overused her healing abilities, incapacitating herself.
It happened more often than Aiyanna was comfortable with, but refusing to heal someone was as unnatural to her as violence. She could use weapons, but inflicting injury went against who she was, draining her abilities without using them.
Anytime she’d tried to breach the cool wall Cael had placed between them, she’d been rebuffed as if she were nothing more to him than a woman who followed him around like a dog.
She was a cat; if she stalked someone, it was for a very good reason.
She shifted out of panther form when she reached her house in the Irish Channel, fishing her keys out of her pocket and unlocking the door.
There were all sorts of charms and protections surrounding her tiny home, but none of them stopped the human intruders who would inevitably attempt to make an appearance.
She sensed him as soon as the door swung open. Aiyanna had wondered where Cael went when she’d left the firehouse earlier. Theo and Mary tracked her down, arguing with each other until they reached her. The good friend that she was, Mary had given Theo a dressing down that left him blushing for what he’d said. Wisely, Theo had apologized, seeming contrite even though he felt justified in his commands.
He was justified, but that didn’t mean Aiyanna would do what he said.
Cael had been absent, until now. Apparently, he’d used the key she’d made for him, a crescent moon painted onto it.
It was the first time he’d used it, a monumental occasion she would have to celebrate later.
Her heart fluttering in her chest like a middle school child, Aiyanna strode over to where he was perched on one of her kitchen barstools. She ached to touch him, to rub up against him and purr.
She swallowed the urge, instead fisting her hands on her hips. “You said nothing,” she told him accusingly.
Cael’s blue eyes flashed. He was the most perfect man ever formed—a slight cleft in his pronounced chin, cheekbones that were almost too sharp on a face that could sell virtually anything. His dark hair was slicked back perfectly in that way that made Aiyanna desperately want to muss it with her hands.
She’d only ever seen him put together like this, a cold, beautiful statue.
“You need to leave New Orleans,” he said. It was a detached statement, as if he’d commented that the chairs around her table didn’t match one another. Incidentally, they didn’t.
“No,” she said simply. She’d been born here, raised here, and been ripped away for reasons beyond her control before.
Once she’d clawed her way back home, having to use every ounce of strength and cunning she possessed, she vowed to herself she would never leave again.
“You can’t stay here,” Cael continued, a little more inflection in his voice this time.
Aiyanna only waited, her eyebrows raised.
“I’ll kill anyone you sleep with,” he said, his eyes hard and no less cold. “I won’t be able to control myself.”
Something uncurled in Aiyanna, lifting its head hopefully, tentatively.
“Then sleep with me.” She moved toward him, close enough to touch.
Cael recoiled, but his eyes never left hers. He didn’t move an inch. “You know we can’t ever have that type of relationship.”
“Why?” She gave up on control and ran her hand through his hair, surprised at its softness. She’d thought product had been holding it that way. “I know you want me.” She ran her finger across his hairline. “I know you haven’t been with anyone else since we met.”
In one quick movement, Cael took her hand in his, but he let
go just as quickly. He left her hand on the counter and moved to the opposite side of the room, in front of the gold and brown tapestry pinned to her far wall.
“I haven’t slept with someone in one hundred years.” His lips curled in disgust. “I’ll never touch a woman that way again.”
Aiyanna froze, all of her instincts warning her that what he was about to say was something she didn’t want to know, something that would change everything.
She held on tight to her confidence in them, in herself.
“What a terrible way to go through life,” Aiyanna found herself saying. She kept to her side of the small room, her back against the wood of her bar. “You don’t have to live that way, Cael.”
She didn’t want him to live like that. She would help him move past whatever it was he was punishing himself for, so long as it was her arms he ran into in the end. He said he would kill anyone she slept with.
The difference was, Aiyanna probably wouldn’t kill the other woman, but she would make it so she learned never to go near Cael again. She had years of thinking about that situation, and was grateful she hadn’t been driven to such extremes.
“You’re the only woman I’ve wanted in so long,” Cael murmured, raising a finger to the Minion stuffed animal she’d bought because it was too cute not have.
Tears sprang into her eyes. She’d been waiting for him to say those words for so long, and she felt like this wasn’t real. Would she wake up in a few minutes, swaying on her water mattress, wishing this hadn’t been a dream?
“You know how I feel about you.” The first day she met him, she’d introduced herself by saying, “Hi, I’m Aiyanna, and I’m going to rock your world.”
She’d been in earnest.
Now Cael actually laughed, and it was one of the few times she’d heard that sound, seen his smile. She could count the instances on one hand. She knew he was also thinking about when they met.
Suddenly his laughter died, replaced by abject misery. She could almost see it around him, a noose leaving him only enough air to breathe. “I would kill you,” he said, his voice breaking, causing Aiyanna’s heart to clench.
Hunted Page 11
