He slumped and leaned his face into one hand. “This is a bad idea.”
Luke’s movements were so stiff and painful, it was making my own body ache. Rolling up my sleeves, I looked around for the shampoo and picked it up. Without even thinking about it, I squirted some on my palm and reached out for his hair.
His hands shot up and caught mine. “What are you doing?”
The harsh uncertainty in his voice arrested me.
“Helping you relax. Stop worrying so much. We’re living in a mountain sanctuary carved out by a bunch of shifters while the rest of the world implodes. I think a friend can wash your hair without adding to the chaos.”
Luke’s grip loosened a fraction. “I wouldn’t be so sure. And we’re friends? I thought you hated me for claiming you.”
"At first, I wasn't pleased," I said, and he slowly let me go. “But, I have to admit, it's nice to have a purpose and a life away from my family."
“Are you saying thank you?” Luke asked, and his voice was filled with his signature wicked amusement. “Or are you avoiding it?”
“Shut up,” I said and began to tentatively lather his hair. Luke didn't protest, and I kept going, massaging his scalp. The shampoo smelled good, and Luke’s hair was soft. It was nice to take care of someone because I wanted to, not because it was life or death.
“You can say it, Rea—the world won’t end,” Luke teased, though his words sounded a little strained, and his hands gripped the sides of the tub. But he didn’t tell me to stop.
“Ugh, thank you, Luke Swiftlore,” I said and scrubbed harder.
“You’re welcome,” he said and relaxed back into my hands. “Man, I have no idea how I got so lucky. Two beautiful ladies taking care of me.”
I smacked the back of his head. “Don’t ruin it.”
After a few minutes, when Luke had dunked himself and risen back up, grinning, he asked, “Conditioner?” I rolled my eyes and walked away. “Hey, Rogda, you were right.”
“Of course,” she replied. “What was it this time?”
“Rea does have strong hands.” I turned back and saw him watching me, one arm dangling to the ground and the other tucked under his chin. “You have my permission to teach her.”
“Like I needed it, boy,” Rogda retorted, causing Luke and me to both laugh.
I was downstairs making Luke a plate of food when Rogda appeared in the doorway and smiled at me. “He’s resting much easier now. Should be down any minute.”
“He’s already recovered?” I asked.
“No.” Rogda shook her head and sighed. “It is hard to explain.”
Even though both Rogda and Luke had agreed I could help take care of him, both of them were reticent about what triggered this pain or a long-term solution. Rogda clearly thought it wasn’t a tenable arrangement, but Luke had been inflexible on that point.
“Since he’s upstairs, can I ask again what this is? Something with shifting?” I asked.
“It is not my secret to tell,” Rogda said. “Only you and I know it is still reoccurring. Xander doesn’t.” Her gaze was solemn. “Perhaps you are the solution I have been praying for.”
“Maybe,” I said and shrugged. “But I mean, he’s completely impossible.”
“Yet here you are, a healer’s assistant in one night in addition to the Command’s,” Rogda said and winked at me. “I will rest easier knowing you’re here.”
I nodded. We’d made poultices for Luke, along with a healing draught to help his body repair itself, smelling of pungent herbs. After he’d soaked, he’d kicked us out and scrubbed off. Finally, he’d come out in a low-slung pair of sweats and a shit-eating grin.
“Now’s the fun part,” he’d said.
At first, I’d been a little flustered, but it wasn’t a romantic or relaxing massage. Rogda put some serious elbow grease into loosening up that man's muscles. He'd tried to relax, but I'd seen the spasms of pain and the way his jaw tensed.
“I think it’s going to take me a while to get to your level,” I said, thinking of it.
“Ah, well, I was a sports masseuse in another life for an Olympian,” she said cheerfully. “It’s to be expected.”
We went back into the living room together, and Luke was coming down the stairs, his movements slow, but much more fluid than earlier. To my surprise, my own muscles loosened, and a small smile was on my face. Seeing Luke recovering resolved a tension hanging over this house.
Once he sat down, I gave him his plate, and Rogda picked up her bag.
“Aw, Rog, you’re leaving?” Luke asked and twinkled at her. “Thank you, as always.”
“As always, you’re welcome, nephew,” Rogda said and lingered at the door. “It’s good to have someone worrying about how much you worry.” She winked at me. “Especially someone like her. It was an excellent claim. I’m glad you waited.”
I gaped as she laughed and went out the front door. Coming back over to the couch, I looked at Luke, who smiled at me.
“You’re all right?” I asked and twisted a piece of my hair. After everything that had happened today, I was exhausted. He nodded and continued to eat. “I apologize for wandering off.”
“Mm, remind me to punish you for that,” Luke said, and I stared at him. “Joking.”
“I thought I was within Winfyre,” I muttered. The most crucial Law was to stay inside of the territory’s borders. “I swear, I wasn’t trying to cause trouble.”
“You were straying into a kind of no man’s land on the eastern edge. I should have warned you,” Luke said and picked up his water. His hands were steady again, and he caught me watching. “Reagan, I’m fine. Thanks to you and Rogda, patchin’ me up and working out the knots.”
“You do seem a lot better,” I said and twisted my hands.
There were a lot of things running through my head, and one of them was an insistent desire to ask him to take a break from shifting. As though I hadn’t pushed it enough tonight.
“What’s that face?” Luke asked, and I leaned back, shaking my head. It occurred to me that this was the first time we’d sat and spent time together like this. A pulse of heat went through my chest, and I found myself on my feet. “Listen, bumps and bruises—it’s part of the job, darlin’.”
What if you got stranded somewhere? What if someone took advantage of it? What if…
“Rogda’s right, you do worry a lot,” Luke said and sniffed the air. “It’s like bitter apples in here. Can you think of something else? Try beaches.”
“You can smell that?” I asked.
Luke gave me a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, you always smell delicious to me, Rea.”
“Nice.” I rolled my eyes. “Well, if you’re all set, I think I’ll go to bed. I’m tired.” Then I blinked and stared at him. I’d almost forgotten. “So, what was that thing in the woods? Did you catch it?”
“Not this time,” Luke said, and his eyes closed. “I will, though.”
It gave me an opportunity to look at his face at closer range. His face had sharper lines around the eyes and nose than I’d realized, with a contrast of rounded cheekbones and a square jaw. His dusky blond hair had dried in tendrils at his nape, and his broad chest was rippled with it. Part of me wanted to let my fingers trace across it, up his stubbly jaw and those stubborn lips.
Oh. Oh no, what am I thinking? I rubbed my eyes. Okay, I was exhausted, and I hadn’t been around a man in far too long. Never mind with a man. God, what had that been now? Two years?
Darker and deeper heat wove through my veins, and I fidgeted, before blurting out, “Night.” Then I pressed my hands into my thighs and watched his turquoise eyes slowly blink open. “Wait, do you need help? Like getting upstairs or anything?”
Luke gave me a lazy and indulgent smile, shaking his head. “Nah, I can handle it. Night.” I walked away and smoothed back my hair. “Careful though, Rea.” His voice had a wicked purr that stopped me in my tracks. “Might be tempted to take advantage of that kind of offer.”
Now the playfulness vanished. “Thank you, Rea,” he said seriously. “I’m starting to wonder how I functioned before you got here.”
My breath caught, and I nodded, throat tight. That meant a lot. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Finally, I escaped into my room.
Leaning against the door, I inhaled the now familiar scent of wood, outside air, wood smoke, and the faint hint of Luke. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but suddenly, whatever this was…
Well, all this was a hell of a lot more than a job, that was for damn sure.
Chapter Ten
Luke
Approaching the house was different now.
I never knew if Reagan was going to pop out and run her eyes over me, checking for injuries. Or if I’d find her playing with the dogs, sprawled in the yard reading, or napping on the couch. Or just waiting for me, usually with some infuriating, sassy comment. One that made me laugh and want to angle for more.
She was starting to become enjoyable to be around—so, I’d been around less and less.
Reagan had taken over the house in one too many ways. Even the second floor wasn’t an escape anymore. Up there, if I tried even a little, I could hear her or smell her. Tossing in her bed, walking around the house, her warm scent calling up to me. I tried not to do that, but invariably, I found myself checking in on her every few minutes instead of sleeping.
All that aside, though, this pain in the ass refugee hadn’t given up a single hint as to what she was. Hell, Reagan Grace knew more about me than I did about her. Even trying to get her to talk about her pre-Rift life or the events of the Rift was next to impossible.
Although that wasn’t unusual. A lot of people didn’t like to bring it up. It might have been over a year ago, but for most of us, still, the wound was still raw.
Xander had noticed that odd note in her scent, too. Apparently, Reagan had been brazen enough to chat and make him laugh. Then the bastard had the audacity to suggest that I’d been waiting for a Reagan to walk through a gate to claim.
And he wasn’t the only one. Honestly, between my idiot friends and Winfyre gossip, I couldn’t escape Reagan Grace. Even the woods reminded me of her, thanks to the wolves and that incident from a few weeks ago. Oh, and no leads on that demonic lurker, either.
Hesitating outside the house now, I turned and headed back to town. I had to get a report in to Xander anyway. I wasn’t avoiding—I was being prudent. But when I got all the way across Cobalt and into his office, he wasn’t there. Dammit.
Wandering through Cobalt, I ducked into a small restaurant and took a seat up at the bar. There wasn’t a lot of booze, but it had the best fried onions in all of North America, I swear.
By some stroke of luck, we’d found gallons of oil, and the cooking man, Eddie Reid, had a successful run with a giant plot of onions. We’d had more onions than we’d known what to do with.
After getting me a glass of water and some fried onions, Chef Eddie leaned on the bar and gave me a dubious look. "Son, if I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were avoiding someone."
“What?” I asked.
“Well, ya seem kind of twitchy," he said and gave me a bright-eyed look. Few things escaped his notice, and I honestly wondered if he’d gotten some kind of psychic gift from the Rift. Or if it had exaggerated his inborn talent for perception. “Looking over your shoulder. Trouble with your girl?”
“No,” I said shortly. I didn’t mind people being familiar, but I drew the line at gossip. Especially false gossip about Reagan Grace.
“Whatever you say,” Chef said and left it at that.
But I sighed as I dipped the onions into salt. Dammit. It was exactly what I was doing, hoping no one saw me and asked why I wasn’t with Reagan.
I don’t need to be with her. The thought was loud in my head. Too loud. It echoed with a rich and itching kind of falseness. Trouble was, I couldn’t stop thinking about her barging into the bathroom or that spontaneous hair washing. It had been sixteen days ago, and still I could remember every damn moment of it.
I’d known Reagan was a ferocious and protective older sister, a loyal friend on my level, and a warrior with a heart like the Vixens. Yet I hadn’t anticipated becoming part of her circle. And from that brief flicker in her eyes when we’d had that bathroom staring content, I think she hadn’t, either.
Never mind the heat. Christ, that girl had me half-hard in a second with her hands in my hair. Of course, having Aunt Rogda there put a damper on things, thankfully. Who knows what I might have done if she wasn’t there?
Ever since the Rift, the wolf had made me more impulsive. Reagan made it worse. It was like she’d awoken some latent Rift instinct, one that was constantly distracting me. When or if she touched me, it became a roar that drowned rationality. Unraveled some deep knot of longing buried inside of my heart and singed my veins. Burned away judgment and restraint.
That worried me. The wolf had never responded to a woman before.
I’d been a Special Forces Op, a Green Beret, a Bearded Bastard, and she was my weakness?
A startled breath escaped me. That thought was quiet. Intense. It hummed through my veins, and I closed my eyes. Stop. Don’t go a step further.
Tristan often gave me shit for worrying, but if I didn’t think of all the possible outcomes, who would? It was planning. Not all of us could be brilliant bastards with harebrained plans that worked in a pinch. I wanted to know that if the worst did come to pass, I had a plan and a few backup plans. I’d served—it went without saying that half those plans would go to shit.
Winfyre was safe, but all around was as precarious as a nuke dangling on a threaded piece of string. Each day, we heard of more horror and bloodshed, mixed with uneasy rumors about new Excris. Reagan was an unknown Riftborn, living in my house and possibly attracting danger.
I couldn’t let part of that danger or attraction be me.
A bottle clinked down in front of me, and I looked up to see Chef had dug out a beer from somewhere. I gave him a half-smile and shook my head.
“You should sell this, Eddie,” I said.
“Boss, I’m sorry for the joke about your girl,” he said quietly. “You look stressed. Rumors?”
I nodded. Eddie could be trusted to be discreet. “I’ve heard reports of all kinds of nasty shit edging this way.” I blew out my cheeks. “But the joke wasn’t unwarranted. Don’t worry about it.”
Eddie gave me a grin. “Man, if you’re not going to drink free beer, then go home.”
I went to fish out some money, as we hadn’t exactly worked out how to barter or pay for things in our damn home, but Eddie waved me off.
“You barely ate.”
“Smell of onions calms the nerves,” I joked.
Eddie let out a booming laugh. “Tell that to my wife.”
I cracked a small grin and nodded, bidding him goodnight. Outside, the air had cooled, and the stars had leaped into the sky. It still blew my mind to see a night sky like this. Before, you would have had to go out into the middle of the ocean to see even half these stars. Now that we were so far north, too, there were northern lights on occasion.
“Every day above ground is a good day,” I murmured. It was something my dad had said often. He’d have given me shit for brooding on a night like this. Man, I miss you, Pop.
Trekking through the quiet and peace of Cobalt, of all of Winfyre, letting the breeze and scent of the bay soothe me, I took my time walking home. When I got back, Reagan was asleep. I hovered outside her door, listening to her soft breathing and wondering if it was locked.
Gently, I laid a hand on the door and closed my eyes.
I gotta figure out a way to keep you safe. And, honey, that might mean from me.
“Shit.”
I’d shifted back, and blood was oozing from a deep gash on my arm. Bastard did get me.
An hour ago, this patch o
f woods had probably been nothing but soft, springtime earth and gently waving trees. Now it was a torn-up mess of a battleground and Northbane shifters.
Nearby, healers were rushing from person to person. Mud, blood, and torn flesh filled my nose, making me want to gag. More than that, I wanted to go after those assholes.
A massive white bear came roaring over the top of a hill, and everyone jumped.
Except me. I had a grim smile as Kal came thundering towards us, shifting and stalking towards me. His broad shoulders cut a path to me, and he gripped my hand briefly.
“You all right?”
I nodded. “They turned tail and ran once I got there. One of ’em sliced me with an arrow, though.” I gestured to the blood. “It’s nothing, but…” I choked on the words, anger burning in my gut. Kal’s eyes flashed. “They almost got Brinney.”
Kal whirled and saw Brinney stretched out on the ground, with Rogda and her eldest son, Niles, working over him. “Who?”
“Bounts, I think.” My voice snapped with sarcasm and ice on the epithet the Northbane had for Bounty Hunters. “Skrors, too,” I said, naming an infamous gang of them that roamed the Pacific Northwest, and nodded over at Jeques. The leopard shifter was still pacing, agitated and deep in thought, probably memorizing the events of the day to write down later. “J got the logo, although by now he might’ve eaten it.”
Kal’s eyes glittered, and I saw him glance south. Skrors were the worst of the worst. Not affiliated with any kind of law organization, if that even existed at this point, the gang had cropped up after the Rift like a disease. One that passed from stasis to stasis with a terrible and vicious irony.
No shifter was easy prey, though. It wasn’t easy, as most guns stopped working around shifters, and old-school ones that got a shot off were easily dodged. But some of them had gotten good at wielding crossbows, as evidenced by my arm.
Skrors were ruthless, hunting shifters like actual animals and displaying the few they felled like prizes. It made me sick, and I wasn’t alone in that. Before today, though, those cowards had never ventured this far north. Usually, the Northbane found them.
Wolf's Wager (Northbane Shifters) Page 8
