by Cat Kalen
Warm autumn sunshine spills over us, and I tilt my face and drink it in for a moment before looking at the boy sprawled out on the ground beside me. When my glance moves over his handsome face, noting how sweet and innocent he looks when sleeping, I don’t miss the quickening of my heart or the way my animal stirs restlessly.
There is nothing I can do to keep the smile from my face or my heart from fluttering a little quicker when he blinks his blue eyes open. I see raw emotion in his gaze and think about the way he lightened my mood last night after so many things went wrong.
“This is getting to be quite the habit,” I say, and stretch my hands over my head.
“You do seem to drag me outdoors to sleep a lot.” His grin is mischievous when he says, “You know, if this is some twisted way of yours to get me alone—”
I arch a challenging brow and cut him off. “You were the one who dragged me out here,” I counter.
His grin is sheepish when he admits, “Okay, so I like waking up with you like this. I’d like to do it every day.” Then he pats the ground and runs the dewy blades of grass over his palms. “Well, with the exception of a hard ground part.” He pulls a pained face and the sound of his joints groaning and popping makes me laugh.
Before I can tease him back and ask if he’s gone soft on me, a commotion from inside the house draws my attention. Frowning, I climb to my feet and Logan follows me up. We hurry to the mansion, and when we slip inside the back door leading to the kitchen I find my new family seated around a table.
The delicious scents of bacon, eggs, toast, and coffee hit at the same time, and when my stomach grumbles it’s a reminder that I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.
I spin on bare feet and find Gem hustling about the kitchen. I can’t help but think that it would serve me well to take a few lessons from her. Someday I’ll have to learn to provide for my own family.
I give Stone a brief glance but can’t bring myself to meet his eyes after spending the night outside with Logan. But I don’t need to see his face to sense how dangerous he is right now, don’t need to meet his eyes to know he’s watching me.
Feeling uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze, I turn my attention to Sandy, who still appears skittish but at least has a bit of color on her face.
My gaze goes from Sandy to Blaze, and in the morning light I see how young and innocent she is. Her big brown eyes are wide and with her hands tucked under her legs she watches us all carefully, like she doesn’t know what to make of the crew who came to her rescue.
The empty wooden chair beside her creaks as I lower myself into it and when her glance settles on me, I offer her a smile in an effort to put her at ease.
“How are you feeling this morning?”
“I’m okay,” she answers, then darts a nervous glance around. “I just want to go home.”
Leading with her answer I ask, “Where is home? Where is your pack?” Instead of answering, she gives me an odd look, like she has no idea what I’m talking about, so I refocus my questions. “How did you get captured?”
Her voice is slow, hesitant when she answers with, “The other night, during the full moon, these men shot me, and the next thing I knew I woke up in that cage.” Despite the warmth of the morning a shiver moves through her and she hugs herself.
“They shot you?” I ask, wondering how she’s still alive. I instantly think about Nova. Could this little girl be another pawn, harnessed by the PTF to trap us?
She nods, and lifts her shirt to show the scar. When I examine the spot where her body rejected the bullet and healed itself my insides turn to ice because one thing becomes glaringly apparent.
“They wanted her alive,” I say, more to myself than anyone. They wanted to have fun with her.
“Where did they find you?”
“In an alleyway.”
Anger trickles through my veins, and my animal howls. Why was this young girl out wandering the dangerous streets alone? Why would her pack allow her to do that? I calm my agitated animal before asking the next question.
“What were you doing in an alleyway?”
“It was the night of the full moon,” she says, and gives me a look that suggests I’m seriously dense for asking such a question.
I think about it for a moment, my brain spinning, but when comprehension slowly trickles in, I try to keep the hysteria from my voice.
“You were hunting?”
When it occurs with dawning horror that this young girl was out hunting humans on shift night, like it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do, I push back in my chair. She doesn’t fit the profile of a rogue killer, so why is she out hunting humans? Why isn’t she being cared for by a pack?
At the head of the table my father clears his throat, and that’s when Officer Sanford comes into the room and drops down in the chair across from me.
His eyes lock on mine. “What you fail to understand, Pride, is that not all shaders are good. For every well-meaning animal out there, there is a rogue, which is why I assembled a team and wanted to change tactics in our approach.”
As I digest his words, I look at Blaze. “Do you hunt every full moon?”
She nods, and there isn’t a hint of remorse on her face. “Don’t you?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say quickly. “But not humans.”
She angles her head like she doesn’t understand.
“Where do you live? Where is your pack?”
“My mom and me have an apartment in the city.”
“And she hunts on shift night, too?”
Blaze nods in response.
I lean toward her. “Blaze, do you go to school?”
She pulls a face, like such a suggestion is ludicrous. “My mom teaches me everything I need to know.”
“And she taught you that killing humans is acceptable.”
She nods again, then as if to justify it she says, “But only on shift night.”
“Do you think killing humans is right?”
“It’s what we do,” she says matter-of-factly.
With my heart racing and my breath leaving my lungs in a whoosh, I look at Officer Sanford. “She doesn’t know,” I say. “She doesn’t know it’s wrong.”
“And that’s half our problem, Pride. While some rogues kill because they enjoy it, there are others out there who are doing what they do because it’s all they know.”
“We need to help them,” I say quickly. “We need to get them off the streets and integrated into packs that will teach them and take care of them before the PTF get to them first.”
Officer Sanford scrubs his chin. “And how do we determine which shaders are good and which aren’t? Our orders are to shoot to kill. There are no gray areas, Pride. Not in this line of work.”
As I think about that, I think about my purpose for this mission. I set out to find Malcolm and the others and I wanted to confront the PTF. I wanted to change the fate of our future.
But how can I ask the PTF to stop hunting shaders, when clearly some need to be controlled? Don’t humans deserve to be protected from those that have no idea their actions are wrong?
As I toss that around in my mind, and my brain works to come to terms with this new knowledge, I begin to wonder if I’m approaching this mission all wrong. Maybe what I should be trying to do is educate the force and teach them about animal behavior, to help them determine which shaders are rogue and which ones needs saving.
I look at Officer Sanford. If the force refused to listen to a member of their own team, how then can I get them to listen to me? What must I do?
And the truth of the matter is, listening to me isn’t enough. For me to know the right shaders are being hunted, I’d have to be out hunting the streets myself, following the scent of those committing atrocities against humans. While my run-in with Nova wasn’t a pleasant one, at least something good has come from it. I’m better able to identify the raw odor of deception.
I scan the room and that’s when my glance lands o
n my father and I know in an instant this is what he’s been trying to tell me. For humans to be safe, the PTF are needed. Officer Sanford is trying to make things right, but this mission is too big for him, the dangers too high for one man going it alone. That’s when I understand more than ever that I have to try to convince the PTF to change their hunting strategies, to understand we’re not all the same.
“If the strays have your pack,” Officer Sanford begins, “and the PTF find them before we do, then they’re all as good as dead. Information came through my radio the other day, and from what I heard, I know they’re getting closer to finding the hideout.”
Panic bursts inside me. “We need to find them first.”
The chair slides across the floor as Officer Sanford stands. “I need to make my way back to my place to get my radio equipment.”
When Gem puts a plate of food in front of me my stomach growls, but I’m suddenly in no mood to eat.
“I had a run-in with these strays,” Gem says as she holds her hands over her stomach. “And if they do have Malcolm and the others, I think they might have killed them already.”
“Not necessarily,” my father pipes in. “From what we know, the dangerous drug cartel moving in from the south are the ones controlling the strays, using them against us so they can take over our territory. My guess is they want to add our species to their arsenal as well. Why kill our kind when they can harness them?”
Stone grunts, his disgust apparent in his tone. “Spoken like a man who knows what he’s talking about.”
As Officer Sanford exchanges a look with my father, my father hands him the keys to the SUV, then turns to Stone. He doesn’t comment on the remark. Instead he tosses him a cell phone and says, “You should go with him.”
My head jerks back with a start, surprised by my father’s suggestion. Stone and Officer Sanford glare at one another, then after a long moment Sanford gives my father a hard look and says through clenched teeth, “I’ve got this under control.”
“And now I do too,” my father adds.
Stone climbs to his feet and his eyes move over mine before he turns. I stare at his back until he disappears from my line of sight. Once he’s gone, I nibble on my bacon, only because I know I’m going to need my strength.
When I make it to my bedroom I begin to pace, anxious for Stone and Officer Sanford to return so we can get to the others before the PTF find and kill them all.
I see the picture of my mother, which is now on my nightstand. A shiver rushes through my blood as I pick it up and hold it against my chest.
“Pride.”
My head jerks up to find my father leaning against my doorjamb.
“What?”
“Can I come in?”
I shrug and clearly that’s good enough for him because a moment later he’s grabbing the rocking chair from the corner, and pulling it toward me.
When he sits I look at him, and before I can help myself I blurt out, “Did you really love her?”
There is no hesitation in his voice, no indication that I shouldn’t believe him when he says, “I really did.”
“Did she know what you were? What you did?”
“No, none of the imprisoned shaders knew. I kept my real purpose a secret so I could socialize and integrate with the confined and keep them under control.”
I blow a long slow breath and think about how it would have destroyed my mother to know the truth. “I’m glad she didn’t know.”
His face is sorrowful, regretful. “I suspect someday she will.”
I crinkle my nose. “How?”
He looks heavenward. “When we meet again.”
I nod in understanding, but I suspect that won’t be for a long time. Shaders live many, many generations, which has me wondering how long my father has been walking this earth. Before I can ask, he smiles and what he says next has my words lodging in my throat.
“The happiest day of my life was when you were born, Pride. I knew from the minute I set eyes on you that you were going to be something special.”
When a bevy of emotions ambush me, I gulp air and press the picture of my mother tighter against my chest.
“I wish it could have been different. Maybe if I had your force and determination, I could have tried to take a stand against all this, against the man who controlled you every bit as much as he controlled me.”
We go silent for a moment and I think about how much we all lost. “Someday when you have your own children, you might better understand why I left. Maybe then you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“I’m not having children,” I blurt out in a knee-jerk reaction and walk to my window to stare out at the wide expanse of manicured lawn below. A movement in the distance catches my attention, and I narrow my eyes to discern the figure.
“Why not?”
With my chaotic thoughts pulling me in so many directions, I’m unable to give the shadow any more consideration. I spin to face him. “Because…” As I work to formulate a response, I think about the reason I swore I’d never bring kids into this world. Because never in a million years would I let my cruel master hurt anyone I cared about. But I’m no longer imprisoned, I remind myself, and that changes everything.
My mind instantly rewinds to my time in the woods with Logan, when he once asked me if it was with the right guy, if I would have a family.
When I think about the right guy I think about the two alphas who care so deeply for me and my stomach clenches.
“You’re a fertile female, Pride, and if our species is going to survive, you’ll soon have to choose a mate and carry on with our traditions.”
A noise outside my window pulls my attention and I’m thankful for the distraction. I turn from my father and watch for movement, but that doesn’t stop him from carrying on with his lecture.
His voice takes on a serious edge when he says, “When one shader dies, another has to be born.”
As I think about all the death I’ve witnessed in my short life, air leaves my lungs.
“You’ll have to take your place at the head of the family.”
I fight to steady the pulse thrumming in my throat, because I suddenly have the weird sense that my father is preparing me for something.
“And you can only find your place when you find your way and embrace the alpha you were meant to be with.”
I twist back around and stare at him. “And who do you think that is?” I question, my voice lacking any kind of tolerance for this conversation.
“Your true mate will bring out the best in you. The one you need might not be the one you want.” I glare back, hating all his cryptic answers.
Anger, frustration, and confusion hit at the same time, and I’m unable to keep the emotions from my voice when I ask, “What is that supposed to mean?” I drop back down on my mattress and struggle to get myself under control but realize that as I work to become more human in this outside world, hiding my emotions is so much harder to do, now that I feel them so strongly.
“You’ll know soon enough.”
“What I know is that I was born with a bond to Stone, yet I mated with another,” I shoot back.
“Sometimes bonds are tested, Pride. Even broken.” He leans toward me as if to emphasize the importance of his next words, and that’s when I’m hit with that same foul odor again. “And it’s only then that new, deeper connections can be made.”
While I think about what he’s saying I hear a noise in the hall, and when I glance up and see Logan standing outside my door I wonder how much he heard. But when I see the worried look on his face it has my hackles rising.
“What is it?” I say.
“You’d better come outside,” he says, an edge of danger in his voice.
A look comes over my father’s face, and I get the sense that he’s fully aware of what is out there. My animal bristles, because deep down, she knows too. We both rise, but before we follow Logan down the stairs my father grips my elbow and I turn to him.
&
nbsp; “I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but I want you to promise me one thing.”
My body tightens, because I’m not sure I can promise him anything. “What?” I ask.
“Someday when you do have kids, I want you to tell them about me. Tell them their grand-papa would have loved them.”
Even though I’m not sure I can do that, the sadness on his face becomes my undoing and I give a quick nod. With that I tug my elbow free and hurry down the stairs after Logan.
I follow him out the back until we’re surrounded by fragrant foliage, and when he steps toward the gate I move in beside him. He nods toward the mountains and I scan the perimeter and look for encroaching shadows.
“Breathe, Pride,” he says.
When I do I’m immediately assaulted with the rancid scent of cat. My hackles spike and I growl low in response.
My father mumbles something under his breath and pulls his cell phone from his pocket. He presses a button and as he speaks, I scan the grounds for immediate danger.
Sensing the strays are organizing an invasion I drop low in preparation. That’s when I realize Stone and Officer Sanford are in danger, and unlike last time when my master’s mansion was surrounded by feral strays, I’m no longer caged. This time I can let my animal off her leash.
Determined to end this and find the others, I feel my nails lengthening, my animal eager to give chase. My howl punctures the air and I grip the hem of my shirt, but a hand on my arm stops me.
“We’re outnumbered,” my father says. “Besides, they pose no threat to us right now. The fence is armed and I have guards on duty.” He nods toward the house and when I follow his gaze, I see his men on the rooftop. “Nothing or no one is getting in here today.”
“And by no one, does that include Stone and Officer Sanford?”
When his hands clench and he looks at a distant spot on the mountain, I once again breathe deep. But when a very familiar aroma fills my lungs, the hairs on my nape prickle and I nearly gasp for my next breath.
I pull the crisp clean air in again, but the scent is gone, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. My senses go on high alert, and despite knowing my former master was killed at the hands of strays, I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that I just caught his scent.
