by Elisa Paige
He blew out a vexed breath. “Yes, Mockingbird, of course I disarmed the bad-tempered assassins. The daggers are locked in the glovebox. Now if I can continue?” I nodded sheepishly. “When I got back, Lynx was sitting next to you and snarling at Onas and Târre. Even though they were unconscious, she couldn’t tolerate their presence.”
“I wonder why? We’re the same.”
Koda’s eyes flared with sudden anger. “You are nothing at all like them!”
Bewildered, I gaped. “We’re clones. Or as good as. Just look at them. Look at me!”
He tapped my shoulder with a gentle knuckle. “There’s a great deal more to a person than hair and eye color.” Looking toward the bound forms, his voice turned cold. “Those two smell different. The feel of them is different. Alien.”
My mouth went dry and I squeezed my eyes shut. If he could look at them with such loathing when the bitterns and I were of a kind, didn’t that mean that some part of him felt the same way about me?
A tender hand on my cheek made me look up as Koda bent a little to catch my gaze. “I am learning how you think, Sephti, so stop it right now. You are nothing like them.”
“When we met—”
“Even then, when I wasn’t sure what you were, you drew my awareness like a warm ray of sunshine on a cold winter’s day. Those two over there feel unwholesome. Repellent.”
“You thought I was fae,” I stammered. In my head, two voices were at war: one was screaming shut up and stop reminding him, while the other part was determined that we be honest with each other. That he damn well own up to how he’d originally felt. “You were furious. You wanted to kill me.”
A faint smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “If I had wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have stood around talking about it.”
The warrior in me got my chin up. “You said James asked you not to.”
“Honor would have been enough to stay my hand, yes.” Koda flushed and turned his head a little, as if lost in contemplation of the campfire. “But even if I hadn’t given my word, I would not…could not have killed you.”
I absorbed this, studying his face in profile. I could feel his intense focus on my reaction to his words. It took a few tries to get my thoughts straight. “What happened to ‘looks like a fae, stinks like a fae’?”
He winced and his blush deepened. “I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”
“My memory works just fine.” Sometimes, I wished it didn’t. There were a lot of memories I longed to forget.
As if to himself, Koda mused, “I am not used to all this emotion. It…clogs my mind.” He scrubbed at his jaw, taking a deep breath. “I purposely locked my feelings away. A long time ago, I dedicated myself to protecting my people. I gave up any hope of having someone in my life. Now my feelings are coming back and I don’t…I don’t know how to deal with them. I don’t even have the tools.”
I felt myself go very still. That we were wrestling with the same thing, trying to function in the midst of this startling, unexpected, miraculous cyclone of thought-scrambling emotion stunned me. Koda was so controlled and so damned sure of himself, the uncertainty he expressed was hard to equate in my mind with the person I thought he was.
My brain locked up as I replayed that last part.
I realized with sudden clarity that I’d subconsciously applied my own prejudices against Koda. I’d seen him all along as a supernatural male who possessed unknown powers that were so strong, his presence filled every space he occupied. With rare exception, I’d seen him as sublimely self-confident and in control of himself. As damn near impervious.
In that moment, though, I got a look at a new person…yet one who’d been there all along if only I’d had the eyes to see him. Suddenly, I was looking at Koda as a man. A man with uncertainties and fears of his own. Someone who didn’t have all the answers. Who was struggling. Who knew all too well what it was to hurt. To be alone.
Still not looking at me, he tentatively touched a fingertip to the top of my left hand. With my arm splinted, it lay motionless by my side, but the healing break wasn’t really bothering me. What brought the lump to my throat was the sudden vulnerability in Koda’s firelit expression.
“When I saw you that first night, Sephti, I was…afraid. I have lost so much to the fae,” he whispered. “The way my senses warmed to you, the way you drew me without even trying. It seemed like a very cruel set-up. A beautiful trap, laid just for me.”
“But I wasn’t…I wouldn’t ever…”
“I know. Now.” At long last, he met my eyes. It was a brief contact, a there-and-gone connection. “I can no longer smell jasmine on you. Instead, your scent is wild and intoxicating, uniquely yours. Your features may be similar to the others’, but your face is all you. Its character, the faint smile lines, the tiny freckles on your nose, the little scar on your chin.”
I squirmed under his frankly admiring gaze.
“Hear me, Sephti.” His voice took on a rougher tone. “Your keen intellect is in your radiant eyes. Your gentle heart in the pink tint of your cheeks. Your soul in the warmth of your regard.”
He carefully took my hand, cradling it in his gentle grip and smiling when I managed a weak squeeze in response.
Giving himself a shake, he cast a cold look at the unconscious bitterns. “They are devoid of expression, like wax poured straight from a mold. There is no evidence of a soul or the capacity to ever possess one. They are animated weapons. Nothing more.”
I’d sensed the same of Onas and Târre. Deeply saddened, I kept silent.
Koda’s glance flicked to the cat, now sound asleep against me, the heat of her body welcome in the chill woods. “Did you know that humans could live a lifetime in the forest and never once glimpse Lynx or her kin? They are the most elusive of all the animals in this part of the world.” His gaze turned inward as if he was lost in thought. “I had wondered if Coyote would come. Or Fox. Maybe Badger. That it was Lynx was…surprising.”
I found my voice. “What are you talking about?”
“While I was gone, I spoke with an anzhenii lore-keeper about our most ancient history.” Koda’s sable eyes met mine. “She told me that, long before the Unseelie wars killed off all but the most vicious among them, a unique fae bloodline existed. One that was in sync with nature. She said the animals loved them. That even the trees took note of their passage.” He touched my face, a soft smile curving his lips. “I believe you’re a genetic throwback, Sephti. That’s why you were wild from the beginning. Why the brain-washing didn’t take. Why you’re able to think for yourself. And why the animals have begun to seek you out.”
Flustered, I said, “There was that owl, sure, but…”
Koda’s smile grew. “You should see something. Let me help you sit up.”
With his arms supporting me, I was able to get upright this time. Leaning heavily against his chest, I had to close my eyes and pant for the space of a few minutes, waiting for the world to settle. The feel of his strength and solidity was so soothing, I may have reveled in it a bit longer than my vertigo and weakness strictly required.
His mouth by my ear, he murmured, “Look around, Sephti.”
I did as he asked, sucking in a startled breath to see—just outside the firelight—two coyote, a badger and a very large, very white owl staring at me. “Um-m,” I stammered.
“They are shy still and won’t come any closer to you. Not yet. But your being here drew them. Just as you draw me.” He breathed a kiss across my cheek.
My mouth tried to form words twice before I finally got anything out. “When did the other animals show up?”
“They’ve been coming and going for the last few hours. Only Lynx stays.”
“You don’t say,” I whispered before an idea occurred to me. “Maybe the animals are here because of you. Maybe it’s not me at all.”
“My little cousins visit when I’m outside civilization. But these are all here for you.”
I lifted my chin. “What makes yo
u so sure?”
He had the decency to keep his face straight, but his eyes gleamed with laughter. “They told me.”
That threw me for all of a second. “Ha! That blows your theory, then. I can’t talk to them or understand what they say.”
“Not yet, although I suspect you may some day.”
I stared at him, speechless as he gazed blithely back. Shaking off my damaged mental condition, I looked away. My gaze landed on Onas and Târre.
Ah, my favorite dodge—a change of subject. “How are they?”
Anger tightened Koda’s expression. “I saw to their wounds and covered them with blankets. But the animals will go no closer.”
“And you?” I asked softly.
“They tried to kill you, and for that, I would slit their throats where they lie.” He sighed, dipping his head to rub his cheek against mine—a tender gesture that made my heartbeat pick up. “But they are your people, and if you wish them to stay, I will deal with them.”
Pressing my face into his neck, I closed my eyes and breathed him in. “I don’t want them here—”
He went rigid. “You remove your protection of them?” There was a hopeful quality to his voice that made me lift my head and stare at him.
“I didn’t say that.” My voice was sharp. “But I can’t turn them loose on the world and they can’t shift themselves back to the stable.”
Koda grumbled, but withheld comment.
I bit my bottom lip, thinking. “What if…what if I could help them shake off Cian’s influence? They could make lives for themselves on the mortal plane.”
“Those two?” Koda growled.
“I did say ‘what if.’ I know it doesn’t seem likely. They’re still so new, so recently indoctrinated. Maybe their self-awareness is buried so deep, we just can’t sense it.”
He gave me a look, but was kind enough to leave me my delusion. “What was it like for you? When you first escaped?”
I caught Koda’s hand in my good one, smiling a little as he tightened his fingers. “All I’d ever known was the stable, the company of my kind and the fae masters’ collective will as dispensed by Cian.” Casting my thoughts back, I stared into the fire. “Being away from all I knew, out in the mortal world, it was like up was down. Nothing made sense. Nothing was predictable. I couldn’t understand the Round Ears, how to work simple conveniences they took for granted. The first time I saw an eighteen-wheeler, I thought it was a massive predator. Once I finished with it, the thing was only good for scrap metal.”
“When did you learn to drive?”
A blush heated my cheeks. “Promise not to laugh?”
“Not a chance.” He grinned. “I don’t make promises I won’t keep.”
I shot him a look over my shoulder, my lips twitching against my will as I saw his grin broaden. “I found a driving school and rode around in the backseat for a couple of lessons. The humans never knew I was there since I stayed shaded. To practice, I, um, borrowed cars while their owners were asleep in their homes.” That last part made my face flame brighter.
Koda didn’t even try not to laugh. “I believe cops call that grand theft auto.”
With great dignity, I hiked my chin up. “I returned every car and motorcycle I borrowed.”
“In the same condition as when you borrowed it?”
My wince had nothing to do with my injuries. “Well…”
Cradling me with care, Koda brushed a kiss across my cheek and his amusement faded. “Everything had to have been so strange to you. So alien. You must have been frightened.”
I nodded, swallowing hard against the remembered fear. “Countless times, I decided to return to the stable. I knew my punishment would be brutal, but I figured I could take it.”
“What stopped you?”
“Remembering why I escaped in the first place. My plan.”
“And?”
“The fear gradually lessened. I learned to speak English and to handle technology. I discovered jelly beans.” I grinned at his chuckle. “Ninja motorcycles.”
“Cheeseburgers.”
“Mmm, especially cheeseburgers.” I thought for a moment. “As for Onas and Târre, don’t forget that Halloween is only weeks away. At minimum, it wouldn’t hurt to have additional allies against Philippe.”
Koda was rigid against my back. “Cian said most of the stable was killed. There can’t be very many bitterns left to free.” He shifted his weight. “Or is this about your deal with Althea?”
I snorted. “There is no deal.”
“But I heard—”
“Cian and Althea are fae, remember? If they claim it’s day, assume it’s night.” I tilted my head back against Koda’s shoulder. “I agreed with the so-called agreement because they think I’m actually stupid enough to believe a word Cian said. That I’m desperate for the kill-order to be lifted and will accept anything I’m told.”
“So why did he track you down? Why leave the bitterns behind?”
“That’s what I’d like to figure out.” I sighed.
“Then why go—”
“Through with my plan?” I asked, hiding my smile when he huffed irritably at being interrupted again. “It’s not just the bitterns from my own stable I care about, Koda. It’s all of them, no matter their kith. Besides, the geneticists are constantly producing more. Those who died in the attack—assuming Cian’s story is true—have probably been replaced already.”
Koda made a rude noise.
My gaze strayed again to the trussed forms on the other side of the fire. “Could you just walk away from your people?”
“Never,” he whispered.
“Then don’t ask it of me. The cycle has to end. It damn well has to end.”
I could feel his reluctance when he nodded, but figured his not arguing was a good sign that he’d at least accepted how important this was to me.
“You need to rest now,” he murmured after a long moment, easing me back onto the thick, quilted sleeping bag.
The lynx grumbled and opened a golden eye, then settled her whiskered chin on my stomach and went back to sleep.
“She’s so beautiful,” I murmured.
“That she is,” Koda responded, gazing at me. When I blushed, he smiled a soft, lopsided smile. “Sleep now.”
I looked up at him, for once not looking away from the intensity in his eyes. His expression deepened and he laced his fingers with mine, letting our clasped hands rest on my belly. It looked like he would say something, then he shook his head slightly, like he was chastising himself.
He asked, “Would you like me to sing to you?”
“That would be nice, but I’m not really up to dealing with more sad memories.”
Koda considered me. “I think that maybe they wouldn’t be an issue anymore. I think that the person you are becoming is past that now.”
“What do you mean becoming?” A sudden, irrational panic made my voice sharp.
He kept his expression serene. “Don’t worry about it, Coyote.” Smiling at my annoyed huff, he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Sleep.”
The next day, after a breakfast of cold-cuts Koda had in a cooler in the back of his truck, I figured Onas, Târre and I were healed enough to travel. We’d cleaned up as well as we were able but our clothes were mostly gore-stained scraps hanging off our bodies. And although the dried blood was gone and we were ambulatory, we were a mass of knife wounds, contusions and florid bruises. Onas’s nose appeared to have been flattened by a battering ram and I didn’t even want to consider what his nether regions had to be like; judging by his bowlegged gait, not at all good. Târre held her head canted at an angle, courtesy of two ruptured eardrums messing up her balance. One eye was swollen completely closed and she was having great difficulty chewing—a broken jaw will do that.
As for me, I was grateful there weren’t any full-length mirrors to look in and resolutely steered clear of the truck’s reflective surfaces. My leg was functional, thanks to Koda’s having stitched the
muscles back together, but it hurt like a bitch, throbbing in time with my hyper heartbeat. My face was a mass of aches, my ribs even worse. Surprisingly, my broken arm was the least of my problems. Only when I bumped the damn thing or forgot and tried to use my left arm did it bother me.
Except for birdsong in the trees overhead, the campsite was silent. The lynx had left while I slept and the other animals fled with the rising sun. Koda was strangely quiet this morning, which I chalked up to his open animosity toward the bitterns. The tension was oppressive and I spoke only when I had to direct our unwelcome guests.
I also kept myself between Koda and them at all times. Not as subtly as I’d hoped, either, judging by his watchful expression after the second time I sidled between their hostile gazes and him as he moved around the campsite. Their sizing him up, trying to figure out his position in the hierarchy would be as natural—and essential—to them as breathing. No way was I going to give them a chance to observe how he moved, to gauge his habits, to study him for potential weakness.
Up to this point, I’d insisted the bitterns remain tethered and that any food or water come from my hand alone. When it was time to release them, it was my knife that sliced through the bindings.
Ordering Onas and Târre to kneel, I noted without pleasure that neither would meet my eyes. Partly, this was fear—a dangerous, unpredictable thing among predators—but most of it was instinctual. I’d proven myself the most dominant, the alpha, and their meeting my gaze would have been a flagrant insult. In the stable, bitterns had killed for less.
Reinforcing hierarchy was essential to preventing additional bloodshed.
Standing over the bitterns, I spoke Fae in an arctic voice. “Your continued existence is by my leave alone. Nourishment comes from my hand and every action you take is at my pleasure.”
Together, they intoned the ritual response. “By your will.”
I swallowed, trying to ignore the bitter taste in my mouth. Without looking away from their bowed heads, I called out, “Koda, would you come here, please?”
He pushed away from the truck where he’d been leaning, watching without comment. I felt his gaze on the side of my face, but had to maintain the full force of my oppressive will on the kneeling bitterns. It was critical that I establish my unquestioned dominance and maintain it for however long these two were around.
