Heart of Glass

by P. Jameson

  “But the physical shit wasn’t what hurt us the most. It was the way they broke our animals. See, most shifters don’t shift until puberty, but if they’re in danger and their juvenile animal thinks it can help, it will come forward to keep the human part safe.”

  “And when the Fathers hurt you, it caused you to shift.”

  Skittles nodded solemnly as horrid memories of the past twitched through his mind. His brave kitten coming out to protect and then… “Then they’d beat the animal nearly to death to push it back inside. The abuse twisted our cats into something wicked.”

  “Shit.” She set the sandwich back on the tray, staring at it like it was foreign.

  Skittles frowned. “Eat, mate.”

  “Oh, right,” she muttered. “Like I want to eat after hearing that.” Her voice was so sad it made his heart clench. It was strange getting used to all these new sensations she brought on.

  “It gets better,” he said. “You’ll see.”

  She stared at him hopefully, urging him on with his story.

  “Drink,” he reminded, and when she put the glass of orange juice to her lips he continued. “When we grew and took over the clan, we survived the only way we knew how. The way we’d been taught. To be brutal. We didn’t care who we hurt as long as the payoff was power. During the reign of our Fathers, most of the mates escaped with the female young, leaving our clan with no hope of a future. Only Ratchet’s mother—Mama Kitty, we call her—stayed. But not many of us gave a shit. We were taught females made you weak, mates gave you young and that was all they were good for.”

  Nyla’s face ran a gamut of emotions, settling on an expression somewhere between sadness and a scowl. “You were users,” she said, and all he could do was nod. “I was a user too,” she admitted. He opened his mouth to ask for details… he was starving for details… but she quickly cut him off. “How did it all change?”

  “A few of the men wanted…”

  Skittles swallowed hard. He was one who had wanted, yet when given the choice, he’d chosen wrong. On a battle field in the Ouachita Mountains, he’d chosen to hurt a brother instead of doing the right thing. Waiting so long for Nyla was his punishment, he knew.

  “Some of them wanted different. Something more. Some were tired of the brutality and the way it was too easy to hurt people.” He cleared the lump from his throat. “One of those was Felix’s brother, Gash. He went to desperate measures to leave the clan so he could hunt down his mate and try to win her over. He wanted… a life with her. A family. A future.”

  “He wanted out.”

  Skittles nodded. “Faked his death. Found another clan deep in the mountains where his mate lived. When we found him, he was happy. His mate carried a young inside. He was like a new man.” Skittles couldn’t help the wonder creeping into his voice, the slight lift of his lips, remembering how different Gash was when they’d located him.

  “But… it doesn’t end well does it?” Nyla pressed.

  “Not yet.”

  “You said it gets better.”

  “It does, but not before it gets worse.”

  “Okay.”

  He continued.

  “It doesn’t make sense now, looking back, but at the time, we felt betrayed. The clan was everything, the individual was nothing. It was bred into us from our first breath. For one of our own to even try to leave… it was treason.” He rubbed his palms together and focused on the cold floor. He couldn’t look at her while he said the rest. “We tried to take away what he had.”

  “His mate?”

  Skittles nodded. “Felix wanted to punish him, and he knew the best way to do it was to hurt the mate Gash had somehow learned to love.”

  “Damn it,” Nyla whispered. “Tell me your people didn’t do this. Tell me they didn’t hurt an innocent woman and her unborn baby.”

  “We didn’t.” He found her eyes again, letting her see his truth. His shame. “But not because we didn’t try.”

  He stared at her mouth as it fell open, wordless. Would she hate him for his past? It was never something he’d considered, even though now it seemed like an obvious possibility. Hell, sometimes he hated himself for it. But he was trying to make amends, and he’d keep trying for the rest of his goddamned life.

  “Gash’s new clan had a secret weapon and they used it against us. A coven of Sorcera had made the mountains their home, and chose to protect the clan. They cast a spell that locked our animals inside, making it impossible for us to shift, and taking away our power. Because what good is a bully without his power?”

  “You’re saying a group of witches were able to force your animals inside… like the Fathers did?”

  Skittles frowned. He’d never really thought of it like that. “Yes. The loss of power pulled our legs right out from under us. We had nothing if we didn’t have our animals. We left the mountains and never returned. Some of us came back here to Memphis. A few went their own way. We tried everything to shift. We inflicted pain. Put ourselves in mortal danger. The only thing we accomplished was making ourselves sick. And over time, our animals faded away to nothing. They just… disappeared.”

  Absently, he rubbed his sternum, recalling the barren place in his center where he felt the loss of one half of him. It was different now, with the new werecat he now held. He wasn’t empty anymore. But it wasn’t any less terrifying. He didn’t know the Firecat. He didn’t know what it would turn him into or whether it was as much a part of him as the animal he was born with.

  All he knew was… it was enough to protect the thing in the world that mattered most. And that was all he cared about now. He didn’t give a shit about power unless it meant keeping her.

  Keep her. Keep your darkness. Hold onto it tight. She will help you shine.

  “I’m damn glad I lost that animal, mate,” he admitted, meeting her gaze again.

  “You are?”

  “Yes. It was the thing that saved us. I’m convinced of it.”

  “Saved you from what? Bastian will come for you now. And from what I can tell, this place is still full of cruel people.” He knew she must be thinking of Felix. And she wasn’t wrong. The male—and so many others—was still a savage. Maybe there were those among them who could never be fixed.

  “From ourselves. The curse saved us from ourselves. From the trap our Father’s locked us in. But you’re right. This isn’t over. It might not be over in my lifetime. Bastian will retaliate. Some of my people will never be right in the heart. Things will go sideways. But for now… for right this very moment… we are stronger than ever.”

  It was true, and as he said the words, he realized just how much he believed them.

  They had the power of three Firecats and an Ice Cat.

  But more importantly, they were stronger because their hearts were changing. Love was stronger than hate. Something he never believed until Ratchet… Monster… Nyla… proved him wrong.

  Love was stronger than hate.

  “How did you break the curse?”

  He wouldn’t tell her that yet. She wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready.

  “One day, you’ll know,” he said, “but for now, just believe.”

  Nyla’s eyes shone, making them seem darker. Tears, but nothing dared to fall. “Believe how?” she whispered.

  “Believe that this is a new beginning. For you, for me. For anyone who wants out.”

  “Like Gash did.”

  “Yes, like Gash.”

  She shook her head, staring down at the tray of food. “I’m not good at believing.”

  “Me neither.”

  Her gaze moved back to him. “Then how do you do it?”

  “Practice. And…” He reached for the photo where it lay beside Nyla on the blanket. He held it up for her to see again. “You.”

  “Me?”

  “You helped me believe I could be different. Now I’m going to help you believe.”

  Her mouth opened on an argument, then shut again before finally whispering, “It might not be so
easy.”

  “It’s good, mate. I never liked things that were too easy. The harder the better.”

  Nyla stiffened, and he caught the barest hints of her arousal in the air. It didn’t take much for her to react. She was very responsive to him.

  This was the most satisfying piece of information he’d learned yet. And very soon, he planned to use it to their benefit.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I couldn’t find her. Skye wasn’t in her room and she wasn’t in the kitchen where she liked to spend time with Mama Kitty.

  I scowled, stomping up the stairs to continue my search.

  She was wasting my time by not being where she should be. Whether it was her fault or not, the fucking weak-ass voice inside my head couldn’t rest until I knew she was okay.

  Find her.

  There was too much happening, too much upheaval, to not have knowledge of her whereabouts at all times. What if Bastian chose this moment to attack the Alley Cat warehouse again? What if she was caught in the crosshairs?

  There had already been several more threats leveled at the clan in the days since they’d rescued Seven. Who knew what he’d do next.

  At the top of the stairs, I drew in a long breath, searching for Skye’s scent. It was pretty much useless. I missed the days when I could rely on my senses. When I wanted something and I could sniff it out with no problem.

  Where are you, little female?

  The thrill of hunting her warred with my frustration. Reminded me of the day I’d helped free her from Bastian’s fucked-up dungeon.

  The day she’d tried to run away from me.

  The day I realized I was fucked for life. And not in the way I liked.

  Turning into the lounge, I jerked to a stop.

  She was in a chair, slumped over one of the tables, head resting on her folded arm. Asleep. She was fucking asleep.

  I walked forward, unconsciously making my steps as quiet as possible.

  Asleep. In the middle of this warehouse full of fucking monsters. What the hell was wrong with her? Did she have no sense of self-preservation?

  I stopped at the edge of the table and stared down at her. Long blond hair spilled over the smooth laminate. It looked soft. Like a feather or a cloud. I wanted to feel it.

  No. Stay away.

  But my hand moved forward anyhow, and made contact with the silky, pale strands. The breath rushed out of my lungs as if someone had punched me. It was like touching a piece of heaven. I’d never felt anything so soft.

  “Mine.” The whisper caused real pain in my chest. Pain as brutal as my father’s fist.

  No. She will make me weak.

  With a quiet gasp, Skye came awake and I jerked my hand away from her.

  “Felix?”

  Shit, my name from her lips caused more pain inside.

  “Get your ass back to your room.”

  Straightening, she looked around to see that we were alone before meeting my gaze again. Her eyes were sharp, looking momentarily frightened. But in a blink, they turned into something else. Something defiant. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why go back to my room?”

  She was questioning me?

  “Because I said,” I snarled, not able to do anything else.

  She tipped her chin up a notch. “I don’t have to do what you say. Or what any other man says. Ever.”

  Good girl, the voice inside me purred. She was getting stronger.

  I didn’t want her stronger, but the weak beast inside me did.

  No…

  I wanted her stronger, but the sick human inside me didn’t.

  What the fuck was happening?

  I struggled to keep upright, the pain in my center stealing my breath like a fucking freight train. My pieces were at war. The part I never told anyone still existed, the crippled werecat that refused to end. The human part that always was. And the new pussy part of me the female awakened.

  I knew fucking Marlee had told her this shit. Told them all. But I was still the leader of this clan, and if they wanted to be part of it, they would damn well do what I said.

  Grabbing her thin arm, I hauled her up, ignoring her shocked gasp, and started out of the lounge toward my room. I’d toss her in there and lock the door. She wouldn’t make me hunt her again. I didn’t have time for her shit.

  “W-Where are we going?”

  I didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. I was in control. Not her.

  Pulling her down the stairs, I turned in the direction of my quarters. Weaver spotted us but made no attempt to stop me. She could have screamed, could have asked for help. Maybe I even wanted her to.

  But she didn’t.

  Swinging the door open, it bounced on the hinges, hitting the wall with a thud. I didn’t release her until she was beside my bed. And when I did, it was a relief.

  “Sit,” I demanded. “You will stay here. Understand me, female. You are not to leave this room.”

  Skye swallowed hard enough I could hear the sound. “You’re keeping me… here?”

  Keeping her. Keeping her.

  Goddamn it, I wanted to keep her. And my sneaky fucking animal had found a way to do it.

  For now.

  Only for now.

  Because I wasn’t bowing to that thing. And I wasn’t bowing to her.

  I would keep her safe so that I didn’t go crazy and reveal my weakness to the clan.

  That was it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nyla stood before one of Skittles’s packed bookshelves, scanning the titles lined there. There were manuals galore, some Stephen King horror, old timey westerns that were small enough to be swallowed up in one of his big hands. Her finger dragged along the row of spines, stopping when she noticed something interesting. Love is Pain: A Collection of Hurts.

  Easing the book from its place, she cracked it open to a random spot in the middle and read.

  “People are like stained glass…”

  Poetry. Skittles liked reading poetry? Poems about love. And pain.

  After the things he’d told her, maybe that wasn’t so surprising.

  “Find something?” His voice caught her by surprise and she turned to find him standing in the doorway of the bathroom. He was backlit by the faint flickering light of what was assumed to be candles.

  Nyla nodded, tucking the book to her chest and pushing past him into the bathroom. After she’d eaten all she could, he’d offered to draw her a bath. The first one had been so luxurious, she couldn’t say no. Even if it felt like a trap.

  But in the bathroom, there was nothing nefarious. Not at first glance anyway.

  He had dimmed the lights, using mostly candles to keep things muted. The ambiance was relaxing. Fragrant steam rose from the tub and filled the space. Those fluffy towels were stacked nearby, waiting for when she’d need them. The darkness, the warmth, the soft scents… it all worked together to put her at ease. She felt the tension drain from her body just standing there, doing nothing.

  How did the man know how to do this? Maybe he’d drawn baths for tons of women before her.

  The thought made her feel edgy. Jealous?

  No, that was ridiculous. She didn’t care if he’d done this for others. She just wanted a damn bath.

  She felt his presence as he came up behind her, and reaching around, he eased the book from her grasp. “Get undressed, mate.”

  She wanted to buck against his demand. Wanted to tell him no, just because she could. Because she really could. She knew that here, in this place, she could say no all she pleased. But… she wanted in the warm water so undressing was kind of necessary.

  Nyla glanced at him, expecting him to look away while she got in. But he just stood there, holding the book she’d chosen, his eyes so dark she couldn’t read them in the dim candlelight. Turning her back to him, she lifted the borrowed t-shirt over her head and let it fall to the floor.

  She held her arms out to inspect the damage from the shackles. Everything was healing. Ju
st scabs now, some even faint, and yellowing bruises. The spot where Ratchet’s Firecat burned her was only a dark pink scar now. She ran her finger over it. The burn had gotten her through her worst days in Bastian’s cell. Reminded her they were out there somewhere, the Firecats, the saviors of broken things.

  Hooking her fingers behind the waist of her sweatpants, she eased them over her hips and stepped out. She padded to the edge of the tub, ignoring the fact that she was completely naked in the presence of a powerful man.

  Don’t think about it. Don’t think about him.

  Sliding into the water was like being cloaked in glory. Warm and soothing, and when she was all the way in, the silky bubbles from the soap he’d used covered her completely to her neck. Nyla closed her eyes, letting the breath ease from her lungs until she felt weightless.

  The bath was like her own little cocoon, where she could heal and grow. As if much could be accomplished in a small hour, but still. Whatever magic this was, she would soak it up while she could.

  Because she’d need it for the next time she faced Bastian. Revenge wouldn’t come easy. She’d have to get well first. Then come up with a plan. Taking down the king would require the best of her skills…

  Skittles moved, pulling her attention back to him. He wasn’t watching her as he crossed the small space and put his back to the opposite wall. He slid to the floor, propping his knees up, the book of poems hanging in one hand over one leg. He’d offered to read to her. Anything she picked. Now, she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to.

  He seemed casual until she took in his pinched expression. Jaw clenched, eyes narrowed at the floor. Slowly, he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing shallow. And stayed like that for so long, she was sure he’d fallen asleep.

  She thought to ask if he was okay, but the silence felt nearly… holy. She didn’t want to be the one to disrupt it.

  Pressing her head back against the tub, she closed her eyes too, and let herself relax. With every breath, she felt oddly free. Freer than she had in ages. Even after she was saved from the dungeon. Except this freedom wasn’t physical. It ran deeper. Temporary, she knew, brought on by the quiet safety of Skittles’s room. Freedom that wasn’t fully realized, because she knew what the future held.