Monsters & Guardians

by Kay Elle Parker

  Raine stirred enough to turn her head and look at Dubhlainn. Quinn couldn’t see her features, those stunning eyes he loved to watch change shades as her emotions dictated, but he could feel her body react to the sight of his brother. Could feel the yearning hum through her bones, her muscles, until it seemed like her skin sang with it.

  “The heat will be over soon,” Dubh told her gently. “The urgency with which we take you will abate. Five strong, virile males will be here for your every whim, on our knees if you wish it, with no desire left unsatisfied. Five bound mates in tune to your every emotion, working diligently to safeguard your happiness. To make love to you through the night, hold you through nightmares, cuddle you between us all when the nights are cold. Give us that chance, Raine. Give me the opportunity to show you you’re everything my heart yearns for. Never a whore, precious. Not only a mate. The be all and end all of my existence.”

  Raine pulled away from Quinn, twisting so her arms could reach for Dubhlainn from beneath the covers. Lax and content, her lean form seemed to move like liquid mercury. And as she leaned toward the Alpha, eager to be in his arms, Finn moved in the doorway, stepping further into the room as her heat tugged him forward.

  Quinn cursed, Dubhlainn grimaced, and Raine recoiled as though she’d felt the sting of a hand across her face. Still half-pressed to Quinn, he had the discomfort of feeling her turn to stone, her willingness to submit disappearing faster than the crack of a whip.

  “Pretty words,” she whispered bitterly, curling into Quinn again and pulling the covers over her head. He couldn’t hear the rest of what she said, but he knew her well enough now to know they’d just taken another half-dozen steps in retreat.

  More tears dripped onto his chest, pooled and trickled down his ribcage. He stroked her back as she cried silently. Instinctively he began the growl, kept it low and quiet, just enough to comfort, while he glared daggers at Finn.

  The poor lad looked horrified.

  “I need you to deal with this.” Dubhlainn met Quinn’s gaze straight on, and the blue was abnormally dark, an intense shade Quinn had never seen them before. “I can’t be here, so I need you to step up as her mate. Don’t argue,” he snapped, gesturing to where Raine huddled into Quinn’s side, her head on his chest. “Right now she trusts you more than she’ll ever trust me. So you growl, Quinn, and you don’t stop fucking growling until Finn’s done and the tie is broken, do you understand me? Between the pair of you, you keep her from feeling pain, and you keep her riding the high. It’s a fucking order, Quinn.”

  Quinn sighed and prayed Raine could hear the devastation in Dubh’s tone. That she might understand he didn’t want to do this but no longer had a choice without dividing the brothers, the pack. “Yes, Alpha. I’ll take care of her.”

  Dubhlainn nodded sharply and turned away, lashing out and catching Finn around the throat. The youngest O’Callaghan yelped but wisely didn’t strike at his brother. “She’s my mate, Finn, nothing can change that now. Just as she is Quinn’s. You will exercise restraint, impeccable control, or your first time knotting her will be your last. Hurt her and I’ll return it tenfold, are we absolutely clear on that?”

  Finn nodded urgently, submitting to Dubhlainn’s sheltered fury without question. His knees were trying to give, to lower him to the floor in a kneel of respect, Quinn noted, but Dubhlainn held him aloft with just a hand around his neck. “Absolutely, Alpha. You know I would never hurt her on purpose.”

  By accident or on purpose, it wouldn’t matter to Dubh, Quinn knew. If Raine suffered, the Alpha would make Finn suffer tenfold indeed, and no doubt include Quinn in the undesirable punishment.

  Dubh released his youngest brother, sending Finn to one knee with a slight wheeze, and with one long, haunted glance at the lump under the covers, stormed out of the room, shutting the door with a crack, and disappeared without another word of warning or argument.

  Quinn sighed again and prepared for a journey into hell.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dubhlainn

  Jesus, how could he be so fucking stupid as to not see what had been in front of him? Was he really so self-involved he’d ignored the signs Raine had given him, every indication that he’d done something right and drawn her out of her self-protective shell, in favor of keeping his brother’s sanity intact and the stability of the pack on a level?

  Fucking moron.

  His brothers were grown men. Grown men responsible for their own self-control, capable of taking care of matters into their own hands. They shouldn’t need him to babysit them, monitor their every move. He was their Alpha, not their fucking nanny, and he shouldn’t have sacrificed his mate, his future, to keep them happy.

  He took the stairs down at a run, struggling not to shift as he went. If he took the wolf’s form now, he’d annihilate the lower half of the house in his rage, and hadn’t he caused Raine enough strife by already dismantling her nest in a fit of pique? He wouldn’t take the fucking house down around her ears.

  He barged through the front door, off the porch and was fully wolf before he touched the earth on heavy paws. Streaking like a black shadow through the night, he let the wolf run and burn off the myriad of destructive emotion ripping at his guts. Fear, jealousy, self-loathing, self-doubt. They all had to go so he could figure a way out of this shit with a clear head and logical thinking.

  His options guaranteed losing people important to him, there was no way around it.

  Allowing Malachi and Cabhan to tie with Raine didn’t sit well; Cabhan’s attitude toward his future mate was too like their father’s approach. Fuck, breed, discard. Continue the line without an emotional connection to the bitch. All she would be was a breeding machine, and she was far more valuable as a person than to end up as that.

  Malachi...again, something didn’t feel right. More of his father’s influence, perhaps not just as strong as with Cabh, but it was there. That disregard for Raine as a person, a woman. Seeing her only for the tight sheath between her thighs without ever acknowledging the rest of her.

  Denying them access to her would split the pack. The divide was already in place now Finn was no doubt claiming Raine as Dubhlainn ran like a coward. Three mates versus two single males was an unfair fight, absolutely, but Dubh had no compunction about taking on both Mal and Cabh by himself if they wanted to take him on.

  It wouldn’t even be about Raine. It would be an excuse to stroke wounded pride, and Dubh wouldn’t lose, not when the redhead his heart leaned toward was at stake as the prize.

  The other option was unthinkable.

  The look she’d given him in the bedroom when she’d seen Finn, just before she turned to his goddamn brother to find solace, hadn’t been one of betrayal or anger. Just the pain of her heart cleaving in two and sheer, unadulterated disappointment. Yet again he’d teased her from her shell, made her believe she could step a toe on the line toward trusting him again, and he’d shattered that illusion without saying a word.

  If he buckled under the pressure of Mal and Cabhan’s insistence they be given their turn with her, he’d break her. She was on the precipice already, teetering on the divide between falling back to safety or toppling forward into the eternal abyss of despair she’d suffer in for the rest of her life.

  That feisty attitude might still be in position, but it was slipping, inch by inch. As she grew more exhausted, the harder she’d find it within herself to pull that shield up. Eventually it would fail and she would wither under the pressure if he couldn’t reconnect with her and bolster her confidence when she started to fade.

  That went for Quinn and Finn too—they all needed to learn how to lift her up out of the dark when it became too much, how to support her in the light and hold her steady.

  The wolf simply agreed with the decision as though it had already come to that decision. It wasn’t particularly happy with the idea of sharing Raine at all and was livid with their brother for taking advantage of Raine in front of them. When Quinn was next in wolf form a
t the same time as Dubh...well, fur was gonna fly, blood was bound to spill, and Dubhlainn would emphasize his role as Alpha.

  Hearing rustling from deeper within the trees, Dubhlainn skidded to a halt and ducked behind a bush. Peering out carefully, he watched his brothers bounce past, both laden with full carry-alls in their mouths, their burdens banging into their legs as they ran back toward the house. They’d made excellent time, he noted with appreciation.

  He stayed where he was until he thought they were long gone. A horrible thought crossed his mind, an unwarranted one; Quinn had his hands full with Raine and coaching Finn. If Mal and Cabhan decided to interfere, Quinn couldn’t stop both of them and keep Raine in check.

  Of course, Cabhan knew he was banned from touching her until the next estrus, but that didn’t mean he would obey. Neither brother had what Dubh classed as exceptional restraint. They wanted, they took, and with no Alpha in the vicinity, they might just decide to tempt his wrath.

  Better to ask forgiveness than permission.

  As Dubh swung around to head back to the den, a flash of white caught his eye. Standing perfectly still, he silenced the snarl in his throat before it could rattle loose and watched his father’s right-hand wolf saunter past on the trail of his idiot siblings.

  Killer Killian, as he was dubbed by the pack.

  Fergus’s best friend and faithful assassin for decades.

  The albino asshole was born without a soul, without mercy in his cold heart. His methods of killing ranged from as quick as a neck snap to weeks of prolonged torture. He was rumored to have murdered his loving wife in a tantrum and hidden the crime under the guise of an accident, and not long after that dispatched his two sons and three daughters when they openly accused him of killing their mother on purpose.

  When Killian was on your ass, a shitstorm usually followed.

  Dubhlainn slipped out behind the white wolf, trotting along to keep up. The moment Killian’s ears flicked back, Dubh sprang forward and leaped on him in three massive bounds, barely giving the older wolf a chance to turn and face the rage of the black beast.

  His jaws clamped around Killian’s neck, shook him like a ragdoll. The man inside the wolf was a disgusting creature, one who tormented young boys and took lives on a whim or, worse, on Fergus’s orders.

  Killian went limp, submitting fully to Dubhlainn. Shocked, wary of a trap, Dubh bit down hard enough for his teeth to dig through fur and break the skin as a warning before he dropped the wolf unceremoniously and peeled his lips back.

  Within seconds, Killian grinned up at him. Pale blue eyes rimmed with pink flashed with merriment and an edge of cunning. His mane of pure white hair fell to his broad shoulders. “Now there’s a lad, all grown up. Alpha looks good on you, boy.”

  Dubh snarled.

  “Sorry, lad, don’t be tetchy now. Been a long time since I saw you last. You’ll always be a boy in my eyes, despite the fact you’ve become a man.” Killian pushed to his feet and stepped back when the wolf’s jaws snapped an inch from his weathered face. “Now, there’s no need for that. Will you not shift and converse with an old friend for a few minutes, Dubhlainn?”

  Old friend, my arse. Narcissistic asshole. Dubh didn’t move. He smelled no other wolves in the area aside from his brothers, but Killian was almost as old as Fergus and had years of battle tactics beneath his belt. He’d rather fight his way out of a skirmish as a wolf than be captured in vulnerable human form.

  “No? Very well then. I’ll do the talking. When your father exiled you and your brothers, it caused a bit of a stir within the pack. There were a few scuffles, some wailing and weeping from the bitches who thought they’d get their dirty paws on the Alpha lines and lead lives of luxury.” Killian stretched leisurely. “Fergus has had eyes on you from the day you left the village. He knows everything you’ve done, the men you’ve become, and he’s decided it’s time for you all to come home.”

  Dubhlainn took a risk and resumed human form. Glowering at the older man, he huffed out a brittle laugh. “More like someone called him back in Ireland and told him I’d claimed a mate. How long did it take for you to grass me up to the old fucker, Killian? Had my knot even gone down or was I still tied to her?”

  Killian’s grin was cruel and leering. “You boys did a good job on her. Could hear her from my little hiding place near the house. But the screams when a bitch takes her first knot? Incomparable and unmistakable. I always knew you’d make Alpha, Dubhlainn. Feels phenomenal, doesn’t it, when a tight cunt splays around your knot as you stretch her wide, then clenches down on it because there’s nowhere for it to go.” Ice blue eyes turned glassy with some sick memory.

  Disgusted, Dubh ignored him. No wonder Raine saw them as monsters if she felt anything like what Killian implied. He wished he could turn back time for the two days she’d been in their company, start over again. Claim her first so Quinn didn’t fuck it up beyond the point of repair. Spare her the pain and humiliation of being used by one brother after another as a pawn in the race for Alpha—a race only one had been destined to win from the start.

  So many mistakes to rectify, and not all of them forgivable.

  “I’m not going back to Ireland,” Dubhlainn stated flatly. “There is no home for me in Galway. What my brothers decide is up to them, but I’ll not be striding home at Fergus’s behest. He lost the right to order me around when he banished me and my kin from the pack. I’ll not be exposing my mate to the likes of him and the rest of the salivating idiots he calls a pack.”

  Killian’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits. “Think it over, lad, before you make hasty decisions. You were always meant to come back to the pack and take over from your father when the time was right.”

  “What is meant to be and what is, are two completely different outcomes. I’m meant to be Alpha, I accept that. Go back to the pack? Not so long as breath fills my lungs, Killian. The time is right for me to cut the strings on this mockery Fergus forced on us, not to return to the puppet show and dance to his tune. You can tell him I’ll be staying where I am. I’ll pass the directive on to my brothers and they can make their own decisions but, knowing Fergus, it’s not them he’ll want returning home, is it? They’re useless to him now. He wants an Alpha. He won’t be getting one in me.”

  “Bad choice, Dubhlainn. I don’t envy you the consequences.”

  “I’ll take them. But if he comes after my mate, Killian, if he sends you after her, I’ll rip your insides out with my bare hands while you’re still breathing and eat your heart in the last seconds of your life. And that’s after I skin that pretty white pelt from your flesh to adorn my fucking wall.”

  Oh, Killian didn’t like that. Dubh braced for an attack, reading the albino’s body language like a freaking manual. He’d not only pissed the killer off, he’d riled his wolf on top of it. Good. Let the fucker see Dubh wouldn’t be cowed by threats.

  Bristling, the beginnings of fur spreading over Killian’s skin like a rash. Aware he was risking his life, Dubhlainn squared his shoulders and stared Killian down as the shift continued. He lifted his brow, exerting his will as Alpha, and said simply, “Do it and die, old man.”

  Killian glared at him; Dubh held his ground.

  “Run back to your master, Killian. Run back to Fergus and tell him his son will not be coming home. Tell him the reign of the O’Callaghan men over the pack ends with him. Let a fresh bloodline have their turn as they’ve waited patiently to do so for centuries.”

  The white wolf snapped and snarled, teeth coming within an inch of Dubh’s torso. Testing, pushing, trying to take Dubhlainn’s measure as warrior and Alpha. By rights, the beast could—probably would, if Dubh showed one hint of weakness—tear him asunder with barely any energy used for the task. Claws, teeth, they were formidable weapons against a frail human shell. If Dubhlainn was unable to shift and heal any severe wounds, he would die.

  Killian wanted to see what the new Alpha was made of? Dubh was happy to oblige. His hand whipped out into the sna
pping jaws, closed strong fingers around the wolf’s tongue. It yelped, paws coming to its face to dislodge the tight grip but Dubh used his free hand to smash a fist into a soft black nose. Again and again, using the tongue as a leash and as defense.

  “Testing me is not smart.” Dubh concentrated, extending five long black claws, sharp as steel blades, from the tips of his fingers. It was an exhausting process, trying to force his body into shifting only certain aspects, but worth it. “I’m not the boy I used to be, Killian. The young lad you terrorized with blood and pain is gone; there’s a grown man in his place, and he ain’t scared of the likes of you.” With ominous care, he scored a bloody line across Killian’s outstretched tongue. “I remember you doing this to a young wolf when I was...what, five, six? As a lesson not to backtalk my father. A young wolf not much older than me. Who hadn’t done anything wrong but be within your eyeline.”

  The wolf’s eyes widened, and Dubh wondered if the bastard recalled that day, the high yelping screams of the wolf pup with the creamy gold pelt and jade eyes. The splatter of bright red blood, the flop of the small muscle twitching uselessly in Killian’s big hand, the sickly-sweet stench of copper and fear and urine.

  A lesson in manners for the Alpha’s son had cost a boy his voice.

  “I think you might remember him now, yes? Pulled him from that infinite vault of violence you keep locked up here,” Dubhlainn dragged all five claws over the wolf’s skull, starting behind his ears and pulling forward toward his eyes. The whimpers made no difference; Killian deserved everything he got. And what he got was five gouges so acute the bone showed through his pelt before blood stained the white. “How many wolves have you stored here, Killian? Victims of your ego, your nature?”

  The wolf’s eyes closed against the blood dripping down its face. It was a cathartic kind of thrill to subject the monster from Dubhlainn’s childhood to a taste of its own cruelty.