by Juniper Hart
“I really don’t feel like talking about it,” Damon said in his usual, stoic way. He rose from his seat, squaring his broad shoulders as he dropped his lap napkin onto his half-finished meal.
“Damon!” Ava called after her son as he turned to leave without another word. Yet as he hurried from the dining room, the questions still haunted him deeply and horribly.
They don’t understand the horrors of war because they’ve never experienced life outside this estate, not in any true form.
Lucien had seen to it that all his children remained dutiful and indebted to him. Damon knew of no other family that operated as they did, grown children still living at home, mate-less and at the beck and call of their patriarch. They were forbidden so many of the simple pleasures that others took for granted but they were powerless to rise up against Lucien. Damien wondered if that wasn’t half the reason he’d enlisted in the first place—just to escape his father.
But they weren’t like any other family. They were Wilders, the head of the most powerful pack in America, if not the world. They didn’t do anything like other families.
He took the butler stairs through the back halls of the west wing until he found himself in his suite. It wasn’t until he was properly squared away that he settled his rapidly thumping heart as he flopped back onto his bed, coffee bean eyes trained on the ceiling.
There was no escape from the life that encompassed him. His fate had been sealed well before his birth, before Lucien had met his mother. It was ingrained in their DNA, that the oldest male child would continue on this senseless fight to control the enchanted realm. There was no escape. For a while, he had deluded himself into believing that once he took over, he could gently sway the packs he controlled into a more sensible way of thinking, one that would encourage unity, not war.
That had been before Damon had learned the truth about his father.
Of course, there were benefits to acting on Cass’ suggestion and succeeding as leader. He would be free to mate and release his siblings from the oppressive hold that Lucien seemed to have over them.
Or was that wishful thinking? After all, Lucien might be old but he was not going anywhere, not without a tragedy befalling him.
Damon sat up, shaking off the dark thoughts that threatened to plague him. Tempting as the thought was on occasion, he knew he wasn’t going to kill his father, no matter how much Lucien might deserve it.
Why not? he thought. You’ve killed before.
Another tremor shot through Damon’s body and he immediately threw his legs over the side of the bed, unable to sit still. Ambling toward the balcony doors, he pushed them open and stepped onto the terrace. The moon was almost full above his head and the urge to shift and run suddenly overwhelmed him insurmountably.
Without considering his next move, he scaled the Victorian railing and climbed to the yard below. The exterior lights twinkled along the property line, but Damon didn’t need them. Even without his night vision, he knew the area almost as well as he knew himself.
Falling forward, he began to morph into his massive black bear form but as he did, someone cleared their throat at his back. Startled by the unexpected noise, Damon fell onto his face, tasting the dew of the grass as he landed. Instantly, he was on his feet, whirling to confront the uninvited visitor.
“Forgive the intrusion,” the well-built man said genially. “I was hoping for a moment alone with you, Mr. Wilder.”
Confusion and irritation shot through Damon as he peered at the being. There was nothing familiar about him.
What the hell was a dragon doing on the property?
He didn’t much care what species the man was but he knew his father would have something to say about it.
Damon studied him closer, anger growing inside him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Damon growled.
“I know but you’re a hard man to track down outside of here,” the stranger agreed. “First I waited for you to come home from the wars and now I’ve waited two weeks for you to leave this monstrosity. Frankly, I have other things to do. So you’ll forgive the drop in, will you?”
Damon’s mouth twitched, alarm shooting through him as he met the stranger’s inky black eyes. They seemed like an abyss in the darkness around them, filled with infinite wisdom that he didn’t begin to understand.
“Who are you?” Damon growled. “What do you want?”
The dragon nodded.
“My name isn’t as important as the proposal I have for you, Damon. May I call you Damon?”
Damon scoffed, sauntering closer to meet the man’s eyes defiantly.
“Whatever you’re trying to sell, I’m not interested in buying,” Damon snapped. “See yourself off the property before you find yourself on the wrong end of half a dozen sets of bear claws.”
The dragon chuckled humorlessly, unperturbed by the threat.
“I know all about your father and siblings, Damon,” he said quietly. “But I also know about you. I’m less concerned about them than I am about you.”
Curiosity mingled with nervousness shot through Damon’s body.
“Look, I don’t know what this is—” Damon started to say but the dragon cut him off.
“It’s not up to me to explain it,” he replied. “But if you come with me, I’ll bring you to someone who will.”
Damon snorted again but with less conviction this time.
“You expect me to go with you. Where?”
He hated that he was entertaining the notion. Whatever this was, it certainly had an air of mystery about it. The stranger was right about one thing: Damon had yet to step foot off the property since finishing his tour a fortnight earlier.
And I’m not apt to go anywhere again unless I re-enlist. Would getting away from here for a few minutes be such a bad thing?
“Somewhere remote,” the dragon replied evasively, his dark hair glinting in the moonlight. “Somewhere no one knows—or knows you.”
Fully intrigued and losing the sense of danger that the stranger had brought about, Damon found himself listening more intently.
“Why? What is this proposition?”
“As I already said, I’m not at liberty to discuss it,” he answered. “But I can give you certain assurances.”
“Such as?”
“Such as, if you don’t like what you hear, you’ll be escorted back without protest and you’ll never hear from us again.”
Damon wanted to ask him why he should trust an odd being who blindsided him in the dark, but he checked his sarcasm and contemplated the offer.
“I have no interest in harming you, Damon,” the dragon continued. “But my partner seems to think that you have the need to change our world.”
The words caused Damon to perk up, his eyes widening as he stared at the man.
“Change it how?”
Again, the dragon chortled as he shrugged.
“As I said, this is neither the time nor the place for such a discussion. In fact, this offer expires in thirty seconds. I can smell your father’s guard dogs closing in on us as we stand here wasting time.”
Damon’s brow rose.
He wasn’t wrong. Bruno and Jupiter should have been there by now. Had this man really been watching Damon all this time?
“Well?” The impatience in the stranger’s voice was not masked.
“I’d feel better about this if I knew your name,” Damon told him, knowing he was already going wherever this journey would take him.
The man sighed.
“Dex.”
Damon nodded slowly, making his decision rashly.
I’ve taken on dragons before, he thought but he also knew he didn’t wish to do it again.
“Fine,” Damon agreed, watching as Dex shifted before his eyes, his long tail sweeping out to curl along the garishly pruned shrubbery which Damon’s father cherished so dearly.
Damon didn’t need to be told what to do and despite his lingering reservations, he climbed atop the dragon’s m
ajestic back, casting one last look at the mansion as the rottweilers came howling around the corner. Dex lifted off into the air and somehow, even then, Damon knew that was going to be the last time he saw the Wilder estate for a long, long time…if ever again.
1
For the first time in his life, Damon felt free.
His breaths were steadier, his shoulders more relaxed, his general gait easy and unrushed.
This is what it’s like to actually live, he thought as he rolled his shoulder back. This is life outside of the Wilder estate.
On some level, he knew it was inane, considering the extensive training he’d undergone at the compound in Virginia.
Was it only a year ago that Dex came to him? It felt so much longer than that. It was a decision he didn’t regret. Upon arriving in Virginia, Damon learned that he was to be part of an elite group called the Sleepers, whose ultimate goal was to bring peace among the different species.
The Damon Wilder who had left the mansion in Boston behind was not the same beast who spent his days in the hot sun.
True, it had taken some time for him to adjust to his posting in South America but as the initial culture shock wore off, he found himself relaxing into the life that had been handpicked for him.
Who would have ever believed that things would have turned out like this? Damon thought wistfully.
“Hey, pendejo,” Miguel called. “Are you coming or what?”
He spoke in Spanish, reminding Damon that he was drifting off, thinking of a previous life, one he had no interest in recalling.
“Si,” he replied, his own accent flawless as he rose from his spot at the café chair and followed his coworker back toward the construction site a few feet away from where they’d taken their break.
He and Miguel had become fast friends, jibing from almost the moment Damon had arrived in Bogota, four months before. Given the political climate in Columbia, the bear shifter hadn’t been sure what to expect but he had been pleasantly surprised by the graciousness of everyone he met. He’d long since learned to avoid areas that were considered crime-ridden, not because he was incapable of taking care of himself but because he did not want to draw attention.
The rules of the Sleepers were deeply ingrained in him and Damon knew he would not mess up this posting—or his position—for anything. The consequences were far worse than merely dealing with Anatoli, the witch-vampire hybrid in charge of the Sleepers. If he rocked the boat, he would have to deal with his father too. Of the two, Damon couldn’t be sure which was worse.
“Took you long enough,” Jamie grumbled when they neared the worksite. “I thought you were just going for coffee.”
“We did,” Miguel interjected smoothly, casting Damon a warning look as he held up the paper tray of coffees. “The line-up was incredible.”
“I hope you intend to stay later to make up for this,” the foreman shot back, glowering at them both. “We have deadlines, you know? I don’t pay you to stand around scratching your cojones.”
“I’ll stay,” Damon offered, knowing Miguel had a wife and children waiting for him in the outskirts. It would take him two hours to get home from their location as it was.
“You can both stay,” Jamie shot back, causing Miguel’s happy expression to fade. “Since you both decided to take an unauthorized lunch break.”
Damon opened his mouth to protest but Miguel shook his head vigorously. They watched as Jamie sauntered away to reprimand one of the other workers.
“No tocarle los cojones,” Miguel said. “There’s no point in arguing with him. It will only get you on his shit list. He’s the one with the itchy cojones.”
Miguel grinned charmingly but Damon didn’t smile, knowing that this extra time was putting his friend out.
“It’s fine, amigo,” Miguel insisted, sensing Damon’s darkening mood. “I shouldn’t have insisted we stay for lunch. I honestly didn’t think he was going to step foot outside the trailer today. It’s so hot and that bastardo has air conditioning. How could I have known he was going to pretend to work today?”
Damon flashed his friend a half-smile and shrugged indifferently.
“It doesn’t matter to me. I’ve got nowhere to be,” Damon reminded him, getting back to work. The area had been demolished and needed to be cleared for building. The task was grueling and exhausting and it was the worst part of the job by far. Damon knew the faster they got it done, the faster they’d be on to laying the foundation and starting the build.
“That will change for you soon,” Miguel told him with the slyness of someone who knew more than he was saying.
“What will?” Damon asked, not understanding.
“Having somewhere to be,” Miguel explained. “In fact, I think it will change for you this weekend.”
Damon gave him a curious look.
“Is this something you saw in your crystal ball or…?”
Miguel snorted and dropped another piece of debris into the wheelbarrow at Damon’s side.
“Ana’s crystal ball,” he replied. “She wants you to come over for dinner on Saturday. We’re having a get-together and at least two of her single, loca primas will be there.”
“That sounds… terrifying,” Damon laughed.
“It is,” Miguel assured him, snickering. “You just wait and see. Will you come?”
Damon snorted but inwardly, he was intrigued by the invitation. He had become a fixture in Miguel and Ana’s house over the past couple months. Miguel’s wife had been hospitable and charming and now Damon saw why.
She wants to set me up with one of her crazy cousins. I’ve had worse offers.
His mind’s eye drifted to the countless dinner parties he’d endured at the Wilder mansion, the insipid, vapid female bears falling all over themselves to win his favor. None of them had ever cared about him, only the fact that he would be the next leader of the pack.
He wondered where all those wretched females were now.
A pang of guilt shot through him as he considered Laz now falling into the role that he had abandoned but just as quickly as it had come, the feeling dissipated.
No one would love the title more than Laz. He was made for center stage.
“So? What do you say?” Miguel pressed, mistaking his silence for reluctance. “Mari and Essa are muy bonita. I mean, they’re insane but…”
He kissed his fingertips to his lips, his grin broadening.
“You might be distracted by their attractiveness long enough to ignore their personalities. But that is bear females for you. They have to keep us in line, I suppose.”
Damon burst out laughing and nodded, readjusting his baseball cap to shield his dark eyes from the blinding sunlight. The sun was different there, hotter but richer somehow.
Not bogged down by North American pollution, Damon mused.
“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll be there.”
Miguel’s trademark smile almost overtook his face now and he nodded again.
“You’re one of the good ones,” he said, his voice lowering slightly. Damon chuckled.
“Am I?”
“With los orsos, no one can tell. You know how it is.”
Damon’s brow raised almost to his dark hairline as he again regarded Miguel.
“Como?”
Miguel turned his back and continued his work, his voice barely audible.
“You know what I mean, pendejo. Around here, you never know who you can trust.”
The words made the hairs on the back of Damon’s neck raise slightly. He had no idea what Miguel was referring to, but the sentiment put him on guard.
Does he know about the Sleepers or does he mean something else?
Damon found himself looking about the all-bear workforce with new eyes. For the most part, the men did their jobs and went home but Damon had gotten to know some of them over the time he’d been staffed. Nothing about any of them stuck out to him in particular. With the exception of Miguel, Damon didn’t know any of them well either.
/> Should he be keeping a closer eye on them? Was there something going on there he should prepare himself for?
The notion unsettled him. He hadn’t been in his placement as a Sleeper long enough to expect to be activated, but he had also learned that the call could come any time. He wondered if the call to action might be closer to home than he realized.
There’s no way anyone in this group has anything to do with the Cabal, Damon thought firmly. Stop imagining trouble when your life is finally peaceful.
“Hey! Are you ever going to do any work?” Jamie snapped, causing Damon to look alive.
The sun must be frying my brain today, he thought grimly, forcing his attention back on his work. I can’t stop thinking about home.
And for a peculiar moment, he thought he might be homesick.
The thought appalled him and he shoved it as far from his mind as possible, shaking his head.
Yep. You’re suffering heatstroke, he told himself. Better get hydrated. This is your home now and don’t you forget it.
The sun had floated down over the horizon, enshrouding the pair in near darkness before the workday was done.
“Should I light some lamps?” Miguel asked nervously, glancing at the half-moon pouring light from the sky above.
“No! We’re getting out of here,” Damon snorted, shaking his head. “Look what time it is.”
“But we’re not even close to being finished and Jamie—”
“Jamie isn’t paying us for these extra hours. We took forty-five minutes for lunch. We’ve been here three hours later than anyone else. Jamie be damned,” Damon interjected, wiping the sweat from his brow. His body was tired and he was sure Miguel was ready to drop too.
“Where the hell do you come from where you can talk about your boss like that?” Miguel asked, awe in his voice. “You’re a brave man.”
“Come on,” Damon said before his friend could protest. “I’ll buy you a beer for the ride home.”
“Ugh,” Miguel groaned. “I forgot I still have to go home.”
Damon laughed.
“You’re welcome to crash at my place,” he offered. “But I don’t want Ana to uninvite me from the fiesta this weekend.”
