Treachery

by Andrea Cremer

  Ren’s short, sharp bark ended in a confused whimper. The other three wolves continued stalking toward the Searcher, undeterred by their enemy having abruptly laid down his arms.

  Connor’s arm swung around my neck, catching me in a painful headlock.

  “We can’t watch this,” he snapped, slowly wrestling me out of the room.

  “Ren, please!” I shouted. “Don’t choose them! Choose me!”

  Ren turned at the desperation in my voice, watching Connor pull me through the doorway. He shifted forms, staring bewildered at Monroe’s outstretched hands, and took a step toward him.

  “Who are you?”

  Monroe’s voice shook. “I’m—”

  “Enough! You’re a fool, boy,” Emile snarled at Ren before smiling at Monroe. “Just like your father.”

  And then he was leaping through the air, shifting into wolf form—a thick bundle of fur, fangs, and claws. I saw him slam into Monroe, jaws locking around the unarmed man’s throat, a moment before I was whipped around.

  Ren didn’t look at me when he spoke, ripping me free from the blur of memories. “When he laid down his swords, I thought he was crazy. Maybe suicidal. But there was something about his scent. It was familiar, like I knew it.”

  I watched as he struggled to speak. “But what Emile said. I didn’t understand at first. Until he . . . until Monroe was bleeding. The scent of his blood. I knew there was a connection.”

  “He loved your mother.” My tears ran so hot I could have sworn they were scoring my cheeks. “He tried to help her escape. A group of the Banes wanted to rebel.”

  “When I was one,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  Ren sat on the bed, his face buried in his hands.

  “Monroe left a letter.” I knelt in front of him. “He wanted us to bring you back.”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Ren said.

  “How can you say that?”

  He lifted his face. The ragged expression on his face felt like claws in my chest.

  “Where would I belong, Calla?” he asked. “I don’t have a place in that world. Even if my mother tried to go there and my father used to be there. Both of them are gone. Dead. Dead because of the life I do belong to. There isn’t anything that links me to the Searchers. I’d only be an enemy to them.”

  I understood his feelings too well. We’d both lost so much. Our pack had been torn apart. Our families broken. But there was still hope. The Searchers proved themselves to me when I fought beside them. They weren’t so different from Guardians. We were all warriors, and we’d shed blood for each other. Our enemies had become friends, and the wolves could find a new home among the Searchers. I believed that, but I needed to make Ren believe it too.

  I grabbed his hands, squeezing his fingers tight. “You do have a link to the Searchers.”

  “What?” He was startled by my fierce words.

  “Monroe has a daughter,” I said. “Her name is Ariadne.”

  “He has a daughter?” Ren asked.

  “You have a sister. A half sister.”

  “Who’s her mother?” He stood transfixed, a flurry of emotions racing through his eyes.

  “A woman who helped him when he was mourning Corrine,” I said. “But Adne’s mother is dead too.”

  I bowed my head, thinking of how many people this war had destroyed. I pushed the grief away, trying to focus on Ren. “She’s two years younger than us. And she’s the reason I’m here.”

  “She’s the reason,” he said.

  “Yes,” I said, frowning as he scowled. “We should go.”

  “You should go,” he murmured. “They want Shay and you. Even with a sister, I don’t fit into that equation.”

  His words were like a slap in the face.

  “It’s not enough.” He looked at me sadly. “She’s a Searcher. I’m a Guardian. What am I without a pack?”

  My stomach lurched. How often had I asked that very question of myself? The pack was the essence of an alpha. We were meant to lead, to bond with our packmates. Take that away, and life lost its meaning.

  His eyes were on me. “What do you want?”

  “What?” I stared at him.

  “Can you give me a reason to go with you?”

  “I already have,” I said, quivering as his words sank in.

  “No,” he said, leaning toward me. “You’ve given me reasons, but not your reason.”

  “But—” My words were hushed, shaky.

  His fingers traced the lines where my tears had fallen. It was a light touch, barely brushing my cheek. But it felt like flames chased each other across my skin.

  “Give me a reason, Calla,” he whispered.

  I gazed at him. Blood roared in my ears. My veins were on fire.

  There wasn’t any doubt in my mind as to what he was asking. But I couldn’t give him what he wanted.

  Ren’s dark eyes were full of pain, a pain for which he thought I was the only salve.

  “Ren,” I whispered. “I want—”

  And then I was leaning over him, my cropped hair brushing against his cheeks as I bent to kiss him. Our lips met and I felt like I was diving into oblivion. The kiss grew deep, immediate and hungry. He lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist, molding my body against his. Our kisses were so full of need, so long, so fierce that I could hardly gasp for breath. He laid me on the bed. Our bed.

  His hands slipped beneath my shirt, stroking my stomach, sliding up, pushing aside my bra. I moaned and bit his lip, reveling in the full press of his weight against me as our bodies began to move together.

  With each touch of his fingers my skin came alive, crackling like tinder under a lit match. Burning away fear. Burning away sorrow. Burning away loss.

  I heard my own cry of pleasure as his mouth followed the path of his hands, and I struggled for thought in the face of torrid sensation.

  I shouldn’t be doing this. I can’t be doing this.

  My mind reeled as I called up the image of Shay. He’d been the one to open this world to me. His hands, his body had set my soul on fire for the first time. I’d wanted him so much, and at that moment I was sure Ren was lost, that he’d chosen the Keepers’ path, I’d drowned my grief by giving in to the flood of desire for Shay.

  But what if Ren hadn’t chosen? What if we’d left him behind too soon? What if Monroe had been right?

  When I’d been faced with encounters like these with Ren in the past, I’d been restrained by the Keepers’ Laws, always afraid to give myself over to the passion he stirred inside me.

  I loved Shay. I had no doubts about that. But I couldn’t deny the powerful reaction I had to Ren, to how much he wanted me. I wondered if there was a bond between us that couldn’t be broken, forged from our shared pasts, born out of the pain of our life as Guardians. Was that bond stronger than the new love that had sprung up between Shay and me?

  Ren’s hand slipped between my thighs and I shivered. My body knew what was coming and it screamed for more. If I’d had any notion that being with Shay would have smothered the allure of Ren’s caress, it was swept away in that moment. Through my night in the garden with Shay, I’d had my first taste of lovers’ secrets, and I was intoxicated with wanting to know the ways Ren would bring my body to life. And I wondered if giving him that pleasure would somehow take away the horrors he’d been dealt because of me. His touch pulled me back in time, into a past where we were together as it was always meant to be. Where my mother was alive and my brother wasn’t broken.

  His lips were on mine again. I twined my fingers in his dark hair.

  “I love you,” he murmured, briefly breaking the kiss. “I’ve always loved you.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “I—”

  It was like Shay was there, whispering in my ear.

  You loved him.

  Yes.

  But not the way you love me.

  I love you.

  Shay. I’d only ever said those words to Shay. I didn’t want that to cha
nge.

  What the hell am I doing? I loved Ren. I still loved him. But this place, these intimate ghosts that held me in this room, on this bed, murmuring of past promises and stolen dreams, none of it was my life now. Lingering here, no matter what my feelings, only kept us from escaping a fate we hadn’t chosen for ourselves.

  My pulse was racing. Ren kissed me again, but I felt like I was in the arms of a restless spirit that haunted me and not the lover I wanted.

  “Wait,” I whispered. “Please wait.”

  “Don’t,” he said, moving his mouth over my neck. “Don’t do that, Calla. Don’t try to leave. Just be here. Be with me.”

  Couldn’t he see it? There was no here. This place was empty, full of nothing but sadness and—if we lingered—death.

  “Ren,” I said, pushing at him gently but firmly. I was beginning to panic but didn’t want to show it. Every word, every move had to be chosen with the utmost care. If I said the wrong thing, I might send Ren running back to the Keepers. While I couldn’t be with him the way he wanted, not here, not now—maybe not ever—I wasn’t going to lose him either. “It’s not safe.”

  “What?” He straightened, blinking at me. “Oh. Oh, of course. Look, Calla, I’m sorry about the other girls. I know that must be strange for you, and it wasn’t fair, but I swear I was always careful. I’m completely healthy. It’s safe.”

  I stared at him and then burst into laughter.

  “I’m not lying,” he said, looking slightly injured by my outburst.

  “No,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “I believe you.”

  “Good.” He smiled and leaned in for another kiss. But I squirmed away; the passion that had caught me off guard when I’d first found Ren wouldn’t snare me again. This place was dangerous for both of us.

  “No,” I said again. “I meant it’s not safe because the people who built this house want me dead. We’re using time we don’t have. We need to go.”

  “Not yet.” He reached for me. “We aren’t in danger. No one comes here. Not ever.”

  His words made me shiver as I wondered how many times Ren had come here. How often was he forced to be a lone wolf rather than the pack’s alpha?

  “Yes, yet.” I sidestepped to dodge his hands. “Adne’s waiting out there. Your sister.”

  Ren’s expression transformed, desire and frustration giving way to amazement.

  “My sister,” he murmured. I made a mental note of his reaction, which I might need again. Ren’s alpha instincts—his need to claim me—could be diverted by Adne. She was the family he truly needed. His sister was the only link to a past that offered him salvation from the brutality of Emile. From the pain of knowing his mother had been killed by the Keepers and that he’d never known his real father.

  “We can talk about this when we’re back at the Academy.” I hurried to fix my clothes, trying to ignore the guilt that tore through me. It was hurtling at me from both sides—I didn’t know what I’d say to Ren once we got out of Vail and I didn’t know what I’d tell Shay about what had transpired here. My own feelings were a jumbled chaos that seemed impossible to untangle.

  “You’re not getting out of this,” he growled, pulling me against him. “I’m not letting you go. Not again.”

  “I know,” I said, not resisting when he kissed me, wondering just how deep a hole I was digging myself into. But I was afraid that saying anything to counter Ren’s hopes would make him change his mind about coming with me. I couldn’t let that happen.

  “Good.”

  I felt him smile through the kiss.

  We left the bedroom, hurrying down the stairs. When we reached the front door, he paused, turning to look at his surroundings.

  “It’s a shame,” he said. “It really is a nice house.”

  “There are more important things in life than houses,” I said, reaching for the doorknob.

  He put his hand over mine.

  “There’s one more thing I need to tell you before we go,” he said.

  “What?” I asked in a clipped voice, wanting to get back to a safe place and away from the seductive spirits that lingered here.

  He leaned down, lips brushing my cheek as I opened the door. “I like your hair.”