For a moment, I was speechless, but then I realized he’d given me an opening. “Not surprising, seeing as we live together.” Tristan and Rett both chuckled. “He’s a good guy.”
“The best,” Rett said and folded his arms.
“Where were you guys stationed in the service?” I asked.
“Oh, all over,” Tristan replied. “Boston, Newport News, San Diego, Seattle, Alaska.”
“Seattle?” I echoed, startled.
“He didn’t mention that?” Tristan asked, and then he caught Rett giving him a warning look. “Ah, well, who wants to talk about the good old days, right?”
“Did something happen in Seattle?” I asked, grasping at straws, and thinking about that emphasized feminine pronoun. “Maybe involving a woman?”
Both of them looked downright alarmed and pulled back, glancing at each other. Meanwhile, my heart sank. I think this woman was important to him.
But wait, didn’t she tell Sarrow where Luke was? Does that mean that she sold out the Northbane boys, or that Sarrow got to her? Or is she in trouble? Is that where Luke’s been?
“He told you about that?” Rett finally asked, dazed. “I’ve never heard him even mention—”
“No, he didn’t,” Tristan said. "Rea, whatever you think it is, believe me, it's not. That was”—he swallowed—“one of the few times I wished I hadn't been right."
Something about Tristan’s tone sent a chill up my spine. “Is Luke going after her?”
“What?” Rett asked and glanced at Tristan. “Is he?”
“No. Rea, you can’t ask us this.” Tristan was gentle and troubled. “This isn’t something you try to fish out of his best friends. If he wants to tell you, then, well, I’ll be shocked—but it’s his call.” He gave me a warning look. “You should know, though, this is heavy shit you’re wading into.”
I suddenly felt immature and foolish, like a high school girl trying to get dirt on someone. Cheeks flushing, I looked down. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
“Listen, I know Luke is not easy to deal with. Hell, none of us are,” Rett said in a warm voice, and I lifted my head, smiling a little. “Okay, maybe it goes, like, Xander, Kal, Luke, Tristan, and then me, but trust us when we say, let him come to you on this. If he does. Lotta hurt there.”
She hurt him? I wanted to screech, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching.
Rett and Tristan exchanged amused looks.
“I think Xander was right,” Tristan said lightly. “You are good for him.”
“He said that?” I asked, and they nodded. Warmth suffused my face and chest, so I turned, pretending to shrug it off and look for the kids. But I couldn’t hide the smile on my face.
I hadn’t gotten the information I’d wanted out of Luke’s friends, maybe, but I had gotten something even better.
When I got back to the house, my heart was still glowing, and I was doubly in a good mood from hanging out with the kids. The air was warm and light, the buds starting to unfurl on the trees, and the frogs were singing in the woods. Gulls swept overhead, and I watched their silvery wings flash against the early evening sky, a pale wash of blue. My steps were leisurely, unhurried.
In spite of everything that had happened and my worries over Luke, I was finding myself again. The more time I spent here, the more refreshed I felt. My wounds were starting to heal. I let out a long sigh. More than that, I was allowing myself to heal.
When I reached the house, I stood for a moment, overlooking the bay and the mountains. The water was a sparkling array of blues, and a sailboat idled in the distance. Hugging myself, I smiled and let this moment wash over me. When I turned, my smile widened.
Luke had come up behind me. He smiled back, and I let my eyes run over him. The rise and fall of his chest, the easy stance with his hands in his pockets, and the breeze in his hair. His black shirt and jeans, simple and beyond sexy.
I had the sudden urge to dart across the lawn and throw myself against him. For the first time in days, he was fully present and there, the look in his eyes reminiscent of our Belrush trip.
“This place’ll never let you go if you’re not careful,” he suddenly said.
And what about you? I wanted to ask, but my tongue got twisted up.
“Want to have dinner out here?” I asked as I walked over.
Luke looked away, his jaw tight, and my chest hitched. I wished I’d just kept my mouth shut.
“I–I can’t,” he said. “Gotta pack.”
“You’re going somewhere?” I asked and grasped his forearm. The muscles flexed under my fingers, and I jumped back. “Sorry. I’m just worried—you’re healing still.”
“Nah, I’m fine,” Luke said. “I’ll be gone for a week.”
“A week?” I echoed, and I sucked in a breath at how plaintive I sounded.
“Don’t worry, the dogs’ll be here,” Luke said.
“Right,” I said and moved past him, going into the house. “I think I’m going to have a salad. You want one?”
I looked over my shoulder at Luke, who’d followed me to the kitchen. He shook his head. After that brief moment of peace outside, everything felt snuffed and flat. I wished I’d just stayed outside, alone and daydreaming. As I cut up vegetables and washed them, Luke leaned against the far counter, petting the dogs and staring into space.
At first, I tried to ignore him, but after another few minutes passed, I couldn’t take it.
“You’re not eating?” I demanded, and he lifted his head. “You have to eat.”
“I know,” Luke said.
“Is something wrong? Are you feeling all right?” I asked.
He leaned on his hand and sighed. “So many damn questions.”
His tone pinched something low in my gut, and pressure built behind my eyes. Why was I letting him get to me like this? I grabbed a tomato and tried to chop it up to distract myself. But the knife slipped and went across my knuckle.
“Dammit,” I swore, and tears pricked, hot and ready. I turned away and looked around for a clean cloth, but they’d all been used. I went to turn to go upstairs and was met by a wall of muscle.
“What happened?” Luke asked, and I tried to pull my hand away, but he caught my wrist.
“It’s a little cut,” I said. “I just need to go get a bandage.”
“I’ve got a kit down here,” he said.
“You do?” My voice echoed around the room, and he gave me a surprised look. “I apologize, I should’ve known that.”
“Why?” Luke asked and crossed the kitchen to a pair of cabinets. From one, he fished out a metal box and lifted it, then carried it over. I was still trying to come up with an answer. “Rea?”
“I can do it,” I said. “You go eat. Or pack.”
Luke ignored me and opened the box, then nodded at me. “You should wash that. Don’t want to mutate into a giant tomato or anything.”
Nodding, I scurried over to the sink. Not for the first time, gratitude rolled over me that we had something called well water, which meant no electricity was required to get the water into the house. Heating it was another matter, and Luke had rigged up a stove to furnish heat when the generators weren’t running.
Luke came up next to me, his body radiating its own delicious heat, and I worked hard not to lean against him. Once I finished, washing a little longer than necessary, he took my hand.
Rough calluses gently moved over my finger as he held it up and dried it, applying the perfect amount of firm pressure. My breath caught in my chest, and my face began to fire up, but I couldn’t look away.
“Does that hurt?” He’d been looking down at my hand, but now, startling green-blue eyes flicked up to mine.
My lips parted, and I let out a funny noise, then squeaked, “Heh, no, no. Why do you ask?”
“You’re breathing funny,” he said, and my face scorched. “Hey, you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”
“Well, you just got over an injury,” I said. “I don’t want you to think I
’m the biggest wimp.”
Luke reached for a bandage, and I watched the tendons in his neck before wrenching my gaze away. I needed to be sedated or something. “You’re the furthest thing from that,” he said and deftly wrapped up my finger. “Now, keep an eye on that. It went deep. And knuckle cuts bleed.”
“Mm-hm,” I said as he held up my hand to inspect his work.
His fingers ghosted up my arm. My breath caught. Audibly. Luke gave me a startled look and pulled back, suddenly tense. For a moment, neither of us said anything.
I had no idea why he’d done that. Was it because he thought he'd hurt me or I would be opposed to it? Or because he knew I hadn't wanted him to let go?
“Thank you,” I said in a rush, and he nodded, moving away from me. “Good thing you were here. Saved me from a dire fate as a tomato.”
Not even a laugh. I’d thought that would at least pull out some of that damn wit.
“Luke, could we—”
“I have to go pack,” he said in a tight and pained voice.
Lips parting, I watched him go, wondering what I’d done this time to cause him pain.
Slumping against the counter, I put my head in my hands, and my finger throbbed. Frustration bubbled up, and it took all of my self-restraint not to go chasing after him.
Luke didn't want to close the distance between us, and I wanted him even more.
Chewing my lip, I looked up, and my eyes fell on the metal first aid kit. I suddenly wondered how many other secrets this house might hold, and my eyes drifted to the ceiling.
Good thing I had a week to find out.
Chapter Twenty-One
Luke
“God, you are a miserable bastard,” Tristan growled at me.
We were making our way up the sloppy hillside of a mountain about twenty miles east of Cobalt. Not far from Winfyre’s border, something everyone was glad about—except for me.
I didn’t answer Tristan, or even look at him. We’d been at each other’s throats the whole trip. Ever since we’d been in the service, he couldn’t resist meeting any sarcasm with his own brand of know-it-all-ness.
Usually, when I was in the mood to pick a fight, I avoided everyone and everything. Especially Tristan, since he was always too happy to oblige.
Nor was he wrong. I was a miserable bastard.
Every step closer to Winfyre meant dealing with Rea. Her name alone caused a torrent of agony and longing, one that struck deep. That went right through me. She plagued my dreams, and I could barely get her out of my head, which meant I should probably get her out of my house.
Xander wanted the opposite, however. As of right now, only we two knew that Reagan was a unique Riftborn, although Xander suspected that Risa Juarez, who’d traveled here with Reagan, might know. Our worry was that she was somehow attracting Rotted and other Excris to Winfyre.
However, we weren’t prepared to assume that correlation implied causation. It was concerning, though, that we’d never had breaches and attacks like this before Reagan came.
I’d gone to Yana the morning we’d left Winfyre to confirm what she’d sensed.
“You are worried, Wolf,” she’d said as I’d approached. It was barely dawn, but she’d been up in her garden, down on her knees and working the earth. Involuntarily, my eyes had flicked across the bay to where you could just get a glimpse of my house, wondering if Reagan was up yet.
“More confirming something. About Reagan Grace.”
Yana had stood up and wiped her hands. “Luke, you are a twisted-up mess inside. I already told you I deemed her trustworthy, even if I could not sense the full extent of her abilities. Why Tello could not, I do not know. It’s possible that part of her gift is an ability to conceal. They are like a flower still in bud.” She’d held up a hand and clenched it. "There, but not yet bloomed. Not yet."
“Is she a danger to Winfyre?” I’d asked.
“I told you then, as I will tell you now. I do not know. Do I think that she would hurt someone? No. She is broken in some ways, lost, maybe, but her heart is still open.” Yana had chuckled. “I think you should talk to her, boy.”
“Thank you,” I’d said, secretly feeling like I’d wasted a trip over here.
“Luke,” she’d called as I went to walk away. “She also has trouble trusting.” My jaw clenched. “Moreover, I am quite certain your fears are unfounded, while your hopes ring true.”
What hopes? I wondered.
“Where are you going, Swift?” Rett called, and I blinked, turning around. Everyone had stopped and was striking camp. "We're not going to push it."
Irritation flared up. “I’m fine.”
“It’s not only about you, asshole,” Tristan said and swung his pack to the ground.
“Never said it was,” I snarled.
“God, make up your mind,” Tristan drawled, and my fists clenched. “First, he can’t wait to get away from Winfyre, then he’s clawing to get back.” Leaning over, he plucked up a wildflower and waved it at me. “Here, pick this apart and make the call. Only way you’ll stop frettin’.”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” I asked in a low voice.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kal and Rett exchange a look.
“Reagan, of course,” Tristan said and tossed the flower at me. He was tired and grumpy, ready to vent his hell on me, as I was on him. “Your claimant that you’re twisting yourself into a pretzel over. It’s sickening.”
In another second, my pack was off, and I had the front of Tristan’s shirt in my hands. “You think you know everything, don’t you, Llary?” I snarled. “You don’t.”
My head ached with exhaustion, and, somewhere, I knew that this was a bad idea, that I was blowing it out of proportion. But I couldn’t stop myself. If I didn’t let this out, I might explode.
He shoved at me, and I stumbled back. “More than you. Why don’t you admit what everyone in Winfyre knows?” His voice was somewhere between a snarl, a laugh, and real frustration. "You already know. It's written all over your sorry face. You knew from the moment you scented her, idiot." My heart rate exploded as I took a step forward. "What, forget how it works, you sorry—”
Tristan had always had a bit of a death wish.
A fist cracked across his jaw. Vaguely, I realized it was mine. I was swearing, the wolf rearing up, and I was on him, throwing another punch that he dodged.
“Don’t you say shit like that,” I snarled. “She’s more than that, she’s—”
“Exactly,” Tristan bellowed as we wrestled in the dirt, each getting some punches in. He caught me in the gut, and I groaned. “Why do you insist on torturing yourself? Shauna?”
“Don’t talk about her!”
“You made one bad call. Christ, Swift, you’re allowed to make mistakes.”
“Shut up,” I spat and threw another punch. “That has nothing—”
“Then why was Reagan asking me and Rett about her?”
“What?” I asked and froze, scrambling back. Tristan somersaulted backward and flipped onto his feet. I remained on my knees. “Reagan—she asked—you two were talking about this shit behind my back?”
Blind fury overtook me, and I shifted, attacking Tristan. He reared up and met me as a tiger. In another second, we were going at it, snarling, and then a white mass crashed into me.
An ice bear who was twice the weight of both of us combined. His paws held us down, and long teeth snapped. Then he shifted, eyes blazing and teeth gritted.
“Shift back. Now.”
Taking a deep breath, I shifted back, and Tristan did, too, not looking at me. My eye was stinging six ways to Sunday, and some of my stitches had reopened.
“Stupid, pathetic bastard,” Tristan spat out, and then he grinned, of all things. “I knew it.”
“Shut up, Tristan,” I said and lunged at him, but Kal caught me.
“Enough.”
“For the record, Swift, we didn’t say shit to Reagan. She asked us, but both Rett and I told h
er to talk to you. And that she shouldn’t be asking us that kind of stuff. But she was worried, and my guess is that you were either avoiding or not talking to her.”
“You shouldn’t have—”
“She went for the next best option.” Tristan’s words snarled in my brain, and I shook my head. “She’s a million times the person that Shauna was. She cares about you, asshole.”
Shoving Kal away, I stalked into the woods without answering any of them. Finally, I found a wide river and knelt down at the side of it, splashing my face and wincing. From the feel of it, Tristan had given me a black eye.
There was a rustle, and I growled. “Go away, Rett.”
Pup.
I turned sharply and saw Ayani emerging from the woods. He trotted over to me, butting my shoulder with his head, then sat back, tongue lolling out.
You are riled up. Fighting with your pack. His voice sounded dry and amused. Good thing the bears have better sense, although they shouldn’t have to teach a wolf not to brawl with his own.
“Please leave me alone,” I muttered.
Reagan stopped here.
My body tensed as Ayani bumped me again. Images filtered into my brain, of Reagan, gaunt and exhausted, covered in grime, cupping her hands in this very river.
I’d forgotten how thin and weary she’d been when she first got to Winfyre. Not that she hadn’t still had that damn radiance underneath it all.
Drue, Gabriel, and Bix interrupted her. I saw her tight smiles, her anxious eyes, and her seeking gaze. Then Bix kicked water on her, the brat, and she chased after him, swinging him into her arms. He shrieked with laughter, and my heart squeezed.
“Enough,” I said and pulled away. “Why are you showing me this?”
Ayani didn’t answer, and I brooded on his memories. Of course Reagan had managed to keep their spirits up during that trek. I’d let myself forget why Xander and I had been so eager to make sure she became a part of Winfyre. I’d let my baggage pile up and cloud my judgment.
Wait a second, I realized. Has the answer been with the wolves all along?
“Do you know what she is?” I asked.
Wolf's Wager (Northbane Shifters) Page 16
