A figure emerged from the hallway, stopping just beneath the stairs that led up to the second-floor balcony. It was Lucas. Lyla recognized him from that day at the shop. Tall and broad and commanding, he paused, taking in the room in one swift glance. The Alpha.
Lyla felt herself go stock still. Like a rabbit, freezing in the presence of a predator.
By the time Lucas came to a stop, Mari was already halfway around the kitchen island. Lucas’s attention snapped to the petite blond as she all but skidded to a stop in front of him. She looked tiny and uncertain standing there, her hands held awkwardly between them. Lucas towered over her, his broad shoulders dwarfing her small figure. Then he reached down and took both her hands in his. It was a gentle, graceful, elegant movement, and Lyla blinked.
“Mari, you are well?”
His rich baritone was warm, the soft French accent lending a seductive quality to it. Lyla felt she should look away, but she couldn’t. The tension seemed to leach from Mari’s body at his touch, and Lyla felt her own body relax.
“Lucas, you’re home.” Mari’s voice was small. She pulled her hands from his. There was such a wealth of feeling in those few words that Lyla felt her own throat try to close.
Then another man shoved past Lucas, grabbed Mari up by the hips, and swung her around. “Mari, we’re home!” His voice rang out theatrically. Mari shrieked and clutched his shoulders as he spun her around.
“Gage! Put me down.”
He did, plopping her unceremoniously down on her feet and dropping a quick kiss to the top of her head. He was even taller than Lucas, although somewhat leaner. He shot a glance a Lucas, said something low in French to him, and strode into the kitchen arms wide. So, this was the brother.
“Elizabeth, my one and only, come give me some sugar.” He was trying for some kind of Texas twang, she thought, but his French accent wasn’t helping. The words sounded utterly ridiculous. Elizabeth was laughing helplessly as she backed away, one hand raised in defense.
“Don’t you dare,” she said, but Lyla could hear the laughter in her voice. She felt her own lips twitch. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
Then Cray was there, stepping neatly in front of Elizabeth, shaking Gage’s hand, the other hand on his shoulder marching him back. “Gage. So good to have you back.”
“Ow. Ow. Cray. It was a joke.”
Cray released him, grinning, well— wolfishly, she’d have to say, as Gage shook out his hand. But another man had entered the room while all this was happening. Tall and lean and tawny, he was halfway through the room before Lyla noticed him.
She’d been in the process of setting the dining room table, which sat at a rakish angle on the far side of the kitchen island separating the kitchen and the living room area. There was a sort of a breakfast nook with benches and pillows in the far corner, just past the kitchen—where they’d eaten breakfast—but at the moment, Lyla felt like she was stranded in the middle of the room. And she couldn’t take her eyes off the man who was stalking straight towards her.
He was one of the sexiest men she’d ever seen. He had the long legged loose gait of a cowboy, and the way his dark blond hair curled just past the collar of his pale denim shirt only enhanced the impression. All he needed was the hat.
“Ah. And you must be the lovely Lyla.” His sharp blue gaze belied the playful seductive curl of his lips. She instinctively tried to take a step back, but she was trapped by the table. “I’m Jesse.” He took her hand and raised it slowly to his lips, and kissed it, his blue eyes staring into hers while she stood there frozen. She was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open. Still holding her gaze—and her hand—he continued. “I’ve heard… not nearly enough about you.”
There was a sudden commotion from the top of the stairs and she looked up to see Aaron, wearing jeans, and nothing else, leap over the banister from halfway down the stairs. He landed with a thump in the center of the great room. Then he was between her and Jesse before she could blink, growling and pushing the other man away from her. He had Jesse pressed up against the island in a heartbeat, and the deep menacing tone of his voice made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. He seemed to be growling something about a claim. Lucas had just started towards them when a fourth man entered the room, catching her attention.
He was maybe a little shorter than the others, but still at least six feet. He had glossy reddish brown hair that flopped boyishly into his eyes. He was staring down at a tablet when he walked in, and she wouldn’t even have noticed him with all the commotion, except he was talking. Loudly.
“Yes! This is it! This sequence of genetic testing is to isolate those strings that may include pre-human DNA. Mostly Neanderthal, but some…”
He paused, seemed to sniff the air, and then glanced up from the tablet. Everyone was staring at him by this point, even Aaron and Jesse, who were still pressed up against the counter, the two of them flanked by Lucas and Gage. The man didn’t seem to realize. He was looking at Lyla.
“Oh,” he said. “That’s interesting.” He walked farther into the room, heading, Lyla was dismayed to note, straight toward her. She felt her stomach clench. Not again. His clear green eyes were disconcertingly intent as they locked on hers.
“I’ve never met a universal mate before.” He nodded to himself, smiling. “And a witch too. That makes sense. Hi, I’m Dean.” He held out his hand.
Before Lyla could decide what to do, all hell broke loose. Aaron pushed away from Jesse, but Lucas was faster, lunging past Aaron to brush Dean aside. His hand shot out and wrapped around Lyla’s throat, holding her at arm’s length. “A what?”
“A witch,” Dean said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Lyla felt her knees go weak. This was really not good.
“A witch?” Lucas’s voice was a roar. Lyla winced at the noise. His hand was large and very, very warm where it wrapped almost all the way around her throat. Cold shivers raced down her arms. Her whole body felt icy. Not good. Really, really not good.
“You brought a witch into my house?” This was directed at Aaron, who was struggling to reach them, while Gage and Jesse held him back.
“She’s not a witch.” Aaron’s eyes were locked on hers, pleading with her to deny it, the hurt so clear, she knew even he wouldn’t believe her if she did.
“Oh, yes,” Dean said, “she is. Can’t you smell it?” He came closer, looking at her like she was a new and fascinating species of bug, completely ignoring Lucas’s growls for him to stay back.
“Yes, yes. It makes perfect sense. Why did I never think of that?” Dean muttered to himself, walking around her, examining her pensively from all angles. Lyla could feel her pulse beating wildly against Lucas’s fingers.
Of course, now I can feel my pulse— was the wild thought that shot through her mind. She tried to shake her head to clear it, but she couldn’t with Lucas’s hand there. Focus, Lyla. She swallowed. Lucas’s grip was firm, but surprisingly gentle. Maybe—
“You accepted my claim,” Aaron yelled, shoving against Gage, elbowing Jesse in the ribs.
“You know the Law, Aaron. It’s clear in this matter.” He met Lyla’s eyes, his face grim, his brown eyes almost apologetic. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”
Lyla’s mouth went dry. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t think Lucas had tightened his grip, but she couldn’t be sure. Aaron fought wildly, breaking away for a second, only to be tackled and wrestled to the floor. Stools went flying, a small table tipped over. Something shattered with a crash. The scars on Aaron’s torso were still a livid red. A flash of fear hit her that he would tear them open.
“Lucas! What are you doing? Let her go!” That was Elizabeth. She started towards them, but Cray grabbed her and pulled her back. He’d been holding her there in the kitchen, away from the fray, talking softly in her ear this whole time, but she must have broken free. Lyla felt a fierce stab of gratitude at the other woman’s defense. Holy Goddess above, please—
“Ac
tually,” Dean said, raising his voice above the fray. “That’s not Law.”
Everyone stopped.
“That’s a verse from the human Bible. It became popular among the packs during the Great War.”
Lyla swallowed again, feeling her throat work against Lucas’s hand. She was extremely aware of the frozen forms of the three men who had been wrestling on the floor. A picture of arrested motion.
“The Great War?” Elizabeth’s voice was faint and slightly muffled. She shoved Cray’s hand away from her mouth. “What is that, World War One?”
“No. This was back in the Middle Ages.” Dean’s voice was very casual. “You know the whole silver bull—”
Lucas made a cutting motion with his hand, and Dean stopped mid-sentence. Lucas pulled in a breath through his nose. Then his hold on her throat relaxed slightly. He pursed his lips.
“You are telling me it’s not Law. To kill witches.”
“Not at all.” Dean shrugged. “We were allies back in the day. Before the split.”
“You accepted my claim,” Aaron bellowed, shoving away from the other two men and pushing to his feet. “Take your hands off her!”
Gage tripped him and pulled him back down. If the situation weren’t so precarious, it might have been funny.
“That was before I knew she was a witch,” Lucas spat back at him.
“Witches are people too!” Elizabeth’s words rang out in the large room. “Lucas, how can you mwhft—” Her words were cut off as Cray clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Yes, that’s right,” Dean put in, watching her thoughtfully. He gave her a smile over Lucas’s shoulder, and then a tiny wink. Lyla’s mouth dropped open.
“If she’s Pack, that clearly takes precedence. The first Law is Pack. Protect the Pack.”
“A witch can’t be Pack.” Lucas’s chocolate brown eyes were intent as they stared into hers.
“I don’t see why not. They’re human.” Dean shrugged. “Humans can be Pack. There’s nothing in the Laws, or even the archives to preclude it.”
Lucas let out a breath, closing his eyes briefly. His thumb stroked down the back of her neck, soothingly. She wondered if he even aware of it. She didn’t think so. She tried to take in a slow, calming breath. Dear Goddess, please—
“Are you certain? As Alpha, it is my duty to uphold the Law. But I will defer to our Lore Master in this matter.” He gave a tiny shake of his head. “I can’t say this issue has ever come up. Not to my knowledge.”
“Apprentice Lore Master,” Dean said with a deprecating shrug. “But yes, in this case I’m sure.”
Lucas drew in a deep breath. Let it out. His grip on her throat relaxed further. “She has no bond. She is not fully Pack.”
“She is human,” Dean said. “She is protected by the claim. Which you accepted.”
Those last words were unexpectedly firm, and Lyla glanced at the younger man in surprise. Apparently, there was more to this guy than boyish charm and absentminded professor.
Lucas huffed out a sigh and released her, gesturing for Jesse and Gage to let Aaron up. He shoved them aside and sprang to his feet, pulling her against his chest. His skin was warm and slightly damp against her cheek. She could hear his heart beating fast. She thought she might melt into a puddle at his feet.
“Something you forgot to tell me?” He hissed the words through clenched teeth into her ear. Lyla’s belly dropped. Aaron was furious. And Lyla knew she deserved it. But what else could she have done?
You should have gone back to Aunt Zoe. She swallowed. The very idea made her sick with dread. She didn’t like the way they were always trying to manipulate events, so intent on increasing their power. But they might have been able to protect you. And you wouldn’t be dealing with this. She sighed. Too late now.
Lyla heard movement and felt Aaron go tense. Make that tenser. She peeked up to see Jesse ambling toward them. He half turned to address Dean, but Lyla could see he was watching her out of the corner of his eye.
“Did I hear you right? Did you say Lyla is a universal mate? What exactly does that mean?” He hooked his thumbs in his front pockets, his sharp blue gaze bouncing between the three of them.
Aaron growled and took a menacing step forward, somehow managing to shift her behind him at the same time. Without letting her go. The man had hidden talents.
Jesse pulled his hands out of his pockets, holding them up in appeasement. “Okay, okay. I was just asking.” Aaron growled louder, the sound rumbling in his throat. Jesse took a step back. “All-righty, then. I’ll just wait outside.”
“Stay.” The one word was obviously a command. Lucas hadn’t even raised his voice, but all movement in the room ceased. He turned to Aaron, his eyes narrowed, his face hard.
“You brought this witch into my territory. Into my home.”
Aaron stretched up, seeming almost to inflate. “I did. I claim her. She is under my protection.”
“This is on you. I accepted your claim, but I don’t accept her. There will be no welcome into the pack.”
There was a short, hushed silence. Lyla sucked in a breath. This wasn’t worth it. Even for the protection they could offer her. She’d made a mistake coming here. That was clear now. She’d just have to take her chances with her family. This was so much worse than the subtle put-downs she’d endured as a child. Worse than the threats and hostility she’d become accustomed to in her marriage.
He’d decided not to kill her. How nice. But she was downright unwanted. And she couldn’t stand the idea of coming between Aaron and his pack. Causing him trouble with his Alpha. That couldn’t be good. She pushed back from Aaron and drew her dignity around her like a cloak.
“That’s fine. I don’t want to cause problems. And I don’t really need anyone’s protection. Sorry for any misunderstandings. I’ll just see myself out.”
The silence in the room was oppressive. She was determined to get the hell out of there as fast as possible. She only made it one step before Lucas rounded on her, his presence seeming to swell to encompass the entire room.
“You will go nowhere until I say so.”
His words rang with absolute authority, and power filled the room. Lyla rocked back on her heels, feeling like the breath had been knocked out of her. Lucas regarded her for a moment, eyes narrowed. She struggled to suck in air. Then he turned away, dismissing her. With a flick of his chin, he nodded at Cray.
“Take her upstairs. I need to talk to my second. She can wait in Aaron’s room.”
Chapter 10
Aaron’s room, it turned out, was directly across from what Elizabeth referred to as her old room. The very room Lyla had spent much of the morning laughing with Mari and Elizabeth in. Apparently, she and Cray had lived there until their house was ready. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any laughing going on now.
At least the rich aroma of the pot roast they’d been preparing had stopped tormenting her. She sighed and glanced around the room for the hundredth time, searching for something—anything—she could use as a distraction. But no. A television had not magically appeared in the last minute or two, and the books on the bookshelf were still one hundred percent geek-lovers’ computer science and mechanical engineering tombs mixed with the occasional hard cover military history. Yeah, she’d have to be a lot more desperate before she cracked one of those. It had only been an hour.
Cray’s face had been grim, but the look in his eyes had been apologetic and his touch gentle when he took her elbow and led her up the stairs. He looked like he was going to say something just before he closed the door, but in the end he just shook his head and stepped back.
The tiny click of the lock snicking home was anti-climactic, since it was one of those push buttons on the door handle, and locked from the inside. Lyla wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that Cray had pushed in the button before stepping out. Was that supposed to make her feel safe or something?
As jail cells went, she’d have to say it was surprisingly well-appointed. D
on’t be so melodramatic, Lyla. They’re hardly locking you in the dungeon. But it was clear that she was “confined to quarters.” And she’d bet there was a guard, namely Cray, waiting outside the door in case she tried to leave. She was almost tempted to poke her head out just to see, but not enough to actually do it.
She looked around the room and sighed. Decorated in creams and beige, with dark antique furniture set off by potted ferns and huge areca palms, Aaron’s room was hardly the worst place to be incarcerated. Under other circumstances, she could really love this room. And what it said about Aaron.
The carved wooden mantelpiece of the fireplace—yes, the room had a fireplace—held framed photos of what had to be his family. Smiling, blond-haired people of all ages, looking so happy it was hard to really get into the whole woe-is-me mindset. The pictures of a much younger Aaron horsing around with his siblings touched a spot in her heart she wasn’t prepared to examine. There was one picture in particular that gave her pause. Two boys of maybe ten or eleven mugged for the camera. They were in swim trunks, both dripping wet, their skinny chests on display, and eating chocolate cake with their hands. It looked very much like the aftermath of some epic water balloon battle, perhaps at a birthday party. And it was clearly Aaron and Lucas.
Lyla turned away from the fireplace and paced restlessly around the room. Guilt tried to smother her, but she did her best to fight it back. It wasn’t like she meant to cause discord between them. You should have told him you were a witch the minute he suggested taking you back here. But at the time she’d been wrestling with the fact that three men with an ax were bent on taking her captive, and that the prophecy might actually be real— and have something to do with her. Oh, yes, and that Aaron was a—good Lord, the man was a werewolf. Suddenly, even if he hadn’t quite defeated the crazy trio, he’d seemed like the best choice for keeping her safe.
Wolf's Promise Page 10
