The gwyllgi hung his head, a whine in his throat, as if I had betrayed him down to his very soul.
I didn’t trust the act, having fallen for one identical to it recently. “Who are you?”
Flexing his claws on the pavement, he made a nails-on-chalkboard sound that hurt my ears.
“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” I settled into a comfortable stance. “A member of Iliana’s coven.”
The bubble of tension I had lived in for weeks burst, and the relief was oh so sweet.
Finally, the witchborn fae had made their move. Now I had the right to counter. I could do something.
The gwyllgi jerked up his head, but his attention fixed somewhere behind me.
“Back away slowly.”
Midas.
Angling my head toward his voice, I could just make him out in my periphery while keeping the gwyllgi in my sights. “I was expecting Ford.”
“He’ll be here soon.” Quiet as a mouse in house slippers, he padded next to me. “You didn’t back away.”
He sounded more annoyed I hadn’t obeyed than worried I might get hurt, which earned him a reminder instead of an elbow to the gut.
“This is my job.” I adjusted my grip on the sword in my right hand. “This is what I do.”
The air vibrated with tension between us, but I didn’t back down, and Midas reined in his alpha tendencies inch by growly inch.
“Shift,” he ordered the gwyllgi, inflicting his bad temper on the interloper. “Or I will.”
The beast made no attempt to comply, and the growl in Midas’s chest vibrated in my back teeth.
Stare gone ruby-red, Midas dared me to keep our pissing match going. “Now will you stand back?”
The gwyllgi, if it was a gwyllgi, had sparked a dominance fight with Midas, making this a pack problem.
Yeah, I was aware it was a loophole. A tiny one. Clever Midas had provoked the beast just to exploit it.
“For now,” I allowed, and gave him several feet to work. “I don’t think this fella’s one of you, though.”
Pack handled pack matters. The second Midas proved this gwyllgi wasn’t gwyllgi, he was mine again.
Crimson magic splashed up Midas’s body, dousing his thighs, spraying his chest, then dunking him. As it drained, Midas was revealed, a butterfly freed of its chrysalis and ready to stretch its wings. Except with more teeth, more claws, and— Fine. He was nothing like a butterfly. Except being as pretty as one.
Midas circled the strange gwyllgi, who obviously wasn’t pack since Midas knew each member by sight and scent.
“I would tell the man what he wants to know.”
The gwyllgi chuffed, its snorting a soft laughter no animal would make.
“You might want to ease on back, darlin’.” Ford jogged up to me. “This could get ugly.”
“I’m good.” I had a job to do, and I couldn’t let Ford shield me. It was a bad habit to fall into when you were a slight woman surrounded by burly men. “You can stand behind me if you want. I’ll protect you.”
“Be still my heart.” He slapped a palm over his chest. “This might go down as the best night of my life.”
“You set a low bar, Ford.” Any lower, and it posed a tripping hazard. “I like that in a man.”
Midas revved up his growl, but it was stupid to think it had anything to do with the fact his friend stood close enough for his elbow to brush mine. Though I had to admit, stupid was my default around Midas.
“Kick his butt already,” I called to Midas. “I’ve got places to go.”
The gwyllgi, clearly not liking his odds, turned to run.
Midas gave chase.
Ford did not.
I yelped when Ford jerked me back, and I wrenched free of him. “You’re just going to let him go?”
“He’s the beta for a reason, and I don’t mean because his mom is the alpha.”
“This is one of those dumb pack rules where helping him diminishes his manliness or some crap, isn’t it?”
“Lee, we’re predators. Those dumb pack rules are what holds our society together.”
Within seconds, they were out of sight, and I couldn’t hold still. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
The cramp in my gut worsened when Ambrose began clawing the pavement, dragging me inch by inch.
Ford’s brow furrowed into heavy rows. “You’re jittery as a kid with ants in their pants.”
Ugh.
I overcame myrmecophobia young. I learned early I had to cope with my fears unless I wanted to explain why ants, and closed spaces for that matter, bothered me. But having woken in an alley covered in them recently, I couldn’t suppress the shudder that rippled through me.
Ford must have thought I was shrugging him off if the generous step back he took was any sign.
About to apologize, I froze as a pained yelp rang out. I had no reason to believe Midas was the one hurt, but I knew in my bones the cry had belonged to him, and I couldn’t have held back if my life depended on it, not when his might. I broke into a punishing run, Ambrose tracking the strange gwyllgi with ease.
A red haze shone on my periphery as Ford slid into his other form, and then a black gwyllgi with sharp blue eyes raced alongside me. Those eyes screamed Ford. How had I ever mistaken the other gwyllgi for him? Even in this shape, he retained an air of steadfastness about him.
A strangled bay echoed through the empty streets ahead, and I didn’t need Ambrose to find Midas now.
Midas was locked in battle with the other gwyllgi, but he was losing. Fast. Its flesh sloughed off in his mouth, and a hard carapace gleamed reddish black along its spine. Insectoid legs, delicate and sharp, pierced its stomach as I gawked, giving it a total of six.
Ford shook off his surprise quicker than me and rushed the creature, gwyllgi etiquette be damned.
“What is that thing?” I pitched my voice low for Ambrose. “A mutant space roach pod person?”
The shadow crept across the asphalt, his hunger a void in my gut, his thirst parching my throat.
Not good, very not good, terribly not good.
“Can you drain him?”
The shadow bounced his shoulders in mocking laughter, as if I had real balls to doubt him.
Seeing as how I didn’t have balls, real or otherwise, I wasn’t too offended to be honest.
“Take a sip.” I yanked on his metaphysical leash. “That’s it. Hear me?”
Rubbing his hands together, Ambrose gave me a mocking bow then zipped into action.
Ford’s and Midas’s feints and parries were practiced from hunting together, their movements beautiful as any dance, but it left me no room to get a cut in edgewise.
As a matter of fact, I was starting to suspect it was intentional.
Gah.
They would rather die manfully than accept help from a girl.
Oh well.
Incoming!
The gwyllgi-roach bit Ford’s left rear leg and slung him, leaving Midas alone on its front end.
The path was as clear as it was going to get. I ran toward it, leapt onto its back, and dug my ankles into its ribs. I held on to its shedding fur one-handed like a bull rider while I stabbed it through the skull over and over.
A bone-jarring tackle knocked me backward, and I hit the asphalt on my hip hard enough for tears to spring to my eyes. “Ouch.”
Before I convinced my legs to cooperate, a golden gwyllgi with radiant crimson eyes walked over me, his body a shield between me and the gwyllgi-roach.
“Get off.” I shoved Midas, smearing blood from my scraped palms over his fur. “I’m here to save you, not the other way around.”
Male gwyllgi came standard with selective hearing as best I could tell, and he left his factory settings on.
“Are you serious?” I leveraged onto my elbows. “Ford is going to get himself killed going it alone.”
The creature began using its multijointed front arms as pincers, reaching behind its mostly bald head to snap at Ford
where he clung to the spot I had unceremoniously vacated seconds earlier.
“Thanks for the save,” I grumbled to Midas, and received a snort in return. “You’ve still got to move.”
When asking nicely failed, I drew on my bond with Ambrose for the strength to knock Midas right while I rolled left. I shot to my feet before he pinned me again, collected my fallen sword, and drew my second blade.
A low growl rose behind me, but two could fake selective hearing, and I charged the creature.
Ford hung on by his teeth from a ridge hiding leathery sheaves that rustled like giant wings, leaving him exposed to the pincer move.
Rushing in from the side, I jumped up behind Ford and severed one of the gwyllgi-roach’s legs. Ford, who I flung the opposite way, tumbled across the pavement as the creature screamed. Then I was the one screaming when its remaining front leg pierced my shoulder beneath my collarbone, punching through my back.
The fingers on my dominant hand spasmed open, and I dropped that sword, leaving me down to one blade and one functional arm.
Holding on with limp fingers as best I could, I waited for it to strike again and whacked off its scabby leg. The ruined stump punched me in the face with enough force to bruise, and I saw it in triplicate for a few seconds until my vision refocused from its dizzy blur.
What passed for its blood smeared my cheek and forehead, mingled with my sweat, and dripped into my eyes. It burned. Like using bleach for eyedrops. Too bad I couldn’t press pause while I dunked my head under the nearest faucet.
Back in action, Ford slammed his shoulder into the beast and knocked it flat on its back. Midas was there in a heartbeat, ripping at its throat and clawing at its exoskeleton until he hooked a segment and ripped it free, allowing Ford to go to town on its vital organs.
“You guys finish up,” I panted, woozy from the blood loss. “I’ll supervise from here.”
A familiar message notification chimed, and I spotted my phone in a puddle of…really gross stuff.
I limped over, fished it out of a clot of viscera, and wiped it off on my pants. What can I say? I’m cheap, and it still worked. As long as those two remained true, I saw no reason to invoke the insurance policy.
Once the creature was a twitchy pile of meat and shell, I took photos and video to send direct to Bishop. The cleaners would process the scene and autopsy the creature, then upload their findings to DORA, an all-species, all-crimes database meant to make life easier for the rest of us, but I was here, so why not?
Midas shifted in a blaze of crimson and stalked over to me. “You’re bleeding.”
“Hmm?” I zoomed in for extra detail on the disintegrating gwyllgi hide. “Hazards of the job.”
“You need to see a healer.”
Brain gone fuzzy, I made mmm-hmm noises.
“Hadley.”
“I heard you the first time.” I squatted for a closer look, and my already tender ankle buckled. “Sheesh. How much blood do we really need to function anyway?”
“More than you’ve got left.”
Ford, who had shifted while I was playing photog, caught me around the waist in a gentle hold and lifted me back onto my feet. “There you go, darlin’.”
“Thanks.” I threw out a hand before face-planting and got a fistful of his tee. “What was that thing, anyway?”
“No clue,” he admitted, tucking me against him. “Never seen anything like it. Midas?”
The beta kept his back to us, which meant turning his back on the corpse, a very non-predator thing to do.
Leaning around Ford, I demanded, “Are you pissed because I didn’t let it kill you?”
“I had it under control.”
“You did not.” I made a rude noise. “You were dog chow, and you know it.”
Angling his head toward Ford, Midas repeated himself. “I had it under control.”
Tension pulled the muscular body behind me taut. “Are you saying you’ve lost control?”
“Are we not talking about the dead bug?” I hung limp from Ford’s arms. “I’m confused, and I can’t tell if it’s blood loss or just the fact two men are talking over me.”
Midas heaved a sigh heard ’round the world and forced himself to turn as if mired in a pit of molasses. “Give her to me.”
“Ford is a better walking stick than you.” I latched onto him. “Your eyes are red, and you’re growling at me.”
“He’s growling at me,” Ford said gently. “Can you go to him, or do you want him to come to you?”
“Neither.”
Each step Midas made toward me carried the weight of his entire world, clear in the curve of his shoulders.
Tenderly, he pushed my sleeves up with his thumbs and made full skin contact.
A slow breath gusted past his lips, hitting me in the face, and the tension drained right out of him.
“We okay?” Ford asked as if from a great distance. “You steady?”
“I’m fine,” I called back, annoyed they kept talking over me. “Rock steady.”
“Hadley Whitaker,” Midas said, mouth tight, eyes wary, “you are an equal in my eyes. You may look upon me without fear. You may hold my gaze and not be punished for the offense. You are absolved, here and now, for any prior trespass, and no insult can henceforth be taken.”
“We did this already.” I frowned at Midas. “Did you get hit in the head? Is this amnesia talking?”
Maybe I shouldn’t have been snippy with Ford if Midas’s brain was leaking out his ears. He might require medical attention.
Wait.
I thought I needed medical attention? I was bleeding or something, wasn’t I? My arm. Something about my arm. Or was it my shoulder? I couldn’t feel either anymore. That was probably not good. Definitely not good. That was not good, right?
Goddess, my head hurt. The room was spinning. Except, there was no room. The world was spinning?
Didn’t it do that anyway?
Yes?
Oh good. That was a relief. I must not be as bad off as I thought.
“Midas…” Ford choked out his name. “Don’t—”
“You are the marrow in my bones, the beat of my heart, the air in my lungs. You may touch me without fear. You may come to me wherever I am, whenever you wish, and I may do the same. Neither of us will be punished for the offense. We are both absolved, here and now, for any prior trespass, and no insult can henceforth be taken.” Midas’s palms were damp against my skin, slippery. “Do you consent?”
“This is like last time, right?” I had already done this once. I wanted it over. I wanted to nap. I wanted chocolate. I wondered if Ambrose would pitch a hissy if I ate one of his. Emergency rations or whatever. “Sure. I consent. Whatever.”
A mournful bay rose behind us, lifting the hairs down my nape in a prickling wave. I forced my head to turn, convinced my eyes to focus on Ford, but he was back on four legs, his broken heart in his voice.
Sweat pooled at the small of my back, and I swayed on my feet. “This wasn’t like last time, was it?”
“No.”
That’s what I get for nodding off there in the middle.
Afraid to ask, I wet my lips. “What, exactly, did I agree to?”
“Me,” he said wearily, “courting you.”
“Courting me.” I broke free of his grip, the only thing keeping me standing. “I have to pass, but thanks.”
The more time I spent around Midas, the closer he would come to unraveling the mystery of me. Not the feminine kind that unspooled as couples learned one another. The other kind. The fact I wasn’t who I said I was, that I had built my castle on sand, the grains one lie after another.
“You agreed.”
“Yeah, well, now I’m disagreeing.”
Ford shot off into the night, and I felt like I had held a puppy while someone else kicked it.
“You don’t know me,” I protested, too weak to do more than slump against him. “You don’t want me.”
Darkness closed in on me, and my eye
s refused to remain open, even though my throat burned to fight.
“What I want doesn’t matter,” he said under his breath, but I heard. “It hasn’t in a long time.”
Five
With Hadley cradled against him, her fingers tangled in his hair, Midas stepped out of their ride onto the sidewalk in front of the Faraday. Pack magic wafted from his skin, distorting the balmy air around them.
Hank hit his knees, chin digging into his chest. “Sir.”
“Call the healer.” Midas scaled back his power. “Then locate Ford and bring him in.”
Young and midlevel dominant, Hank didn’t budge. Probably couldn’t have if he wanted to. “Yes, sir.”
“Now.” A growl revved up his throat. “Before she bleeds to death.”
Standing slowly, head down, Hank opened the door one-handed while retrieving his phone.
Reining in his temper, Midas managed a brisk, “Thank you.”
Crossing the threshold cast him into the spotlight of a crowded lobby populated with curious gwyllgi and other residents.
The slight weight of Hadley curled against him as he carried her into the Faraday alleviated the gnawing ache from the past few weeks, and that was a bad sign. Worse, he had betrayed an old friend over a woman who had made it clear she didn’t want this, or him. Parading around the lobby with Hadley in his arms—that was the cherry on top of his poor-decision sundae, and he didn’t even like ice cream.
A hush fell over the gwyllgi present when they noticed him, bloody and half feral, carrying an equally bloody and soon to be fully feral future potentate. Hadley would tear into him when she woke. Of that he had no doubt. He would deserve it too. Leveraging his moment of weakness against her when she was too dazed to fully comprehend the ramifications of their bargain shamed him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do it all over again under the same circumstances.
Ares stepped off the elevator, her arm slung around a curvy brunette’s shoulders who she kept tucked against her side. Humans weren’t allowed in the Faraday, but Liz had been granted an exception. She was a gifted surgeon, a prized commodity in any pack, and Ares, her mate, provided her with personal security when she was called in to lighten the healer’s burden.
Pack of Lies Page 5
