by Ann Aguirre
“It wouldn’t be,” he grunted.
“Did you find the signal device?”
“Not yet. When the lights went down, we stopped looking. I didn’t know how long we’d be stuck so it seemed unwise to waste the battery on my phone.”
“I’ve got solar lamps with me. If you wish, I can continue the search with the guards who helped with the door.”
Callum peered at the soldiers but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember their names. “Do you mind, Jere?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I did.”
“Then bring it up when you find it and connect it as needed in the security room. I’ll have a look at the battlefield.”
The news was grim but not as bad as it could be. Only one unit had reached the hold; that meant they could get more mines behind them if they took out the invaders fast enough.
Looks like I’m fighting without sleep.
With a vague word of encouragement, he left the guards to work with Jere, though the signal device seemed more like a hopeless dream than a useful tactic. Joss hurried along after him, matching his longer strides by sprinting up the steps. When they got to the plaza, he could see that only part of the hold had power, the essential services connected to the generators. He didn’t have time to say farewell, so he just waved and turned to find Andar searching for him in the crowd.
“Time for battle, brother.”
Callum nodded. “Where are the rest?”
“Already in the staging area. On our way then?”
In the throng, he lost sight of Joss and that was for the best. He raced Andar to the changing area and found the rest of the brothers waiting for his command. Even the elderly abbot was here, ready to fight. His heart ached over their loyalty. These men were often cranky and misunderstood by the rest of the world, but they were here in his darkest hour, loyal to the bone.
Some of them would die tonight because the Gols took no quarter.
“I don’t have a damn thing to say, so let’s get out there and kill those assholes. We’ll be in bed by dawn.”
The order didn’t cheer, but a few did crack a smile here and there. One by one they slid into their animal forms: bears and wolves, a few stray cats, and even a giant hunting hawk from the Aerie. Callum headed the charge through the secret tunnel, which should deposit them behind the Gols currently prowling by the walls. They couldn’t be allowed to summon reinforcements or set up siege equipment. Hell, if they had access to comms, better minds would have already guided them into an attack that Callum wouldn’t be able to repel. Superiors with better intel might even inform them that the actual factory was situated close to Bright’s Landing, not Burnt Amber.
Don’t think about worst case scenarios. Just get your ass out there and fight.
Callum emerged from the secret egress first and he snarled a curse in bear when he realized the Gols were close enough to see. Fuck. No survivors, not even one. If a straggler made it back to the horde with information on bear weakness, all hope was lost because sooner or later, they’d get inside the walls. The mines could only last for so long since they couldn’t risk asking Bright’s Landing to send more. Either the message would be intercepted, revealing the actual location of the factory, or the Gols would jack the shipment itself. Neither would improve the situation, currently dark enough that he didn’t know if he’d see another dawn.
Once, that prospect wouldn’t have bothered him much. He would’ve reckoned himself ready to meet his maker without much fuss.
Not anymore.
Should’ve kissed her goodbye. Should have and damn the consequences. That way, I could die with one less regret.
It was impossible to reduce that emotion to a zero count, as he craved a future with Joss like nothing he’d ever desired before.
Get your head on right.
With supernatural effort, he shoved her from his mind and charged the closest Gol. Most of them were already set in their armored forms, a wild range of spikes and claws, ferocious teeth and leathery wings. Their hides took real chewing to inflict a serious wound, but Callum was strong enough to tackle the largest, forcing the Gol to the ground while Andar went for the throat. They fought together surprisingly well, though he couldn’t give orders to many of the brothers.
Gol blood scented the wind but Animari blood flowed too. The snarls and cries were deafening, and the world narrowed to the next enemy, then the next, as he battled his way toward the front of the squad.
His fur was almost as thick as Gol armor, so their claws didn’t bite deep, and he pushed them back with brute strength. Andar darted here and there in wolf form, finishing the big ones he stunned, too fast to get pinned, too small to fight on his own. Now and then it felt like someone was watching him from the trees, but that was probably just exhaustion.
How long since I slept?
Over time, the wounds added up, and as he tired, the healing slowed. More blood matted his fur, and he got slower to block. Deep bite on his back, nearly enough to tear out a chunk of his rib cage.
Not enough, it’s not enough, that bastard’s trying to run—
Callum sounded a challenge, but the Gol didn’t take the bait. He was desperate to retreat, return to the rest with what he’d witnessed. He was smart enough to know the value of the intelligence he carried.
Hell no.
Abandoning the melee, Callum chased the Gol runner too far, beyond sight or sound of his brothers, and he realized the mistake too late. Five more Gols appeared from the trees, ringing him in an ambush. The ugly bastard he’d chased snarled something in base Gol. Callum didn’t speak the language but he’d bet it was basically, Gotcha, you dumb bastard.
There was no point in responding but he did anyway. He reared up on two legs and puffed his chest, snarling a vicious threat that involved disemboweling them so he could burn their innards and feed the ashes to his ancestors.
I’m so fucked.
Even in top form, he couldn’t win against six Gols, and Saint Casimir knew he was a far sight from his best shape.
But before any of them could make a move, a shadow dropped from the trees and sharp claws flashed. Blood fountained from the torn throat and the attacker was already gone, vanished back up into the darkened boughs. His blood chilled.
Only a damn cat hunted like that, and there was only one who would follow him straight into the jaws of death without looking back.
15.
Joss hadn’t meant to go to war.
Like so many significant events in her life lately, it sort of just happened. When she heard that the Golgoth were at the walls, she couldn’t stand to go to her room quietly. In Ash Valley, everyone was required to participate in regular patrols and Joss had most often volunteered for stealth and recon missions because those offered the lowest chance of conflict. So she was skilled at sneaking, and she’d shadowed the defense force out of concern.
But when she saw Callum being drawn into a trap, she had to act.
And now she was up a tree, the smell of blood strangling her. It was all over her fur, drying on her muzzle. I’ve never killed anyone before. That thought alone was almost enough to make her sick, but she swallowed down the bile and stilled on the branch. Otherwise the Gols would find her. Somehow she had to work up her courage to strike again, but this time it wouldn’t be easy. They were expecting death from above now, and she would probably be smashed into paste.
Callum bellowed what sounded like a challenge and rushed at the closest enemy. His exhaustion showed as he struck his opponent; they grappled and neither could get the advantage at first, but the other four came at him from behind. They would pin him with brute force and pull him to pieces. Even an Animari couldn’t heal such catastrophic damage. Mustering her nerve, she pounced a second time.
Joss landed on a Gol’s back, the smallest one, and she sank her teeth into his skull. With all her strength, she bit down, straight into the bone, and she dug her claws into the Gold’s tough hide, scratching with all her power. It was
n’t enough, not nearly, but her teeth were sharp enough to do damage. If she couldn’t kill, she could scramble the enemy’s ability to think.
The Gol spun with Joss attached and stumbled backward, as if he planned to slam her into a tree. She detached and leapt, scratching and biting her way from Gol to Gol, distracting and enraging them long enough for Callum to recover. With an enraged snarl, he toppled one like a tree he was uprooting and dropped his entire weight on the Gol’s upper body, leveling him, then he used that leverage to crush the life out of him. Their throats were their softest point and Callum used that, until the Gol stopped moving entirely. A final gasp signaled his death throes, alerting the three that were chasing Joss around the trees.
The terrain offered her an advantage. Since she was smaller, she could duck and dart and climb. They couldn’t destroy her if they couldn’t catch her. Joss knew damn well she had to keep moving; one solid strike and any of these Gol could snap her spine. She was tired already, but at least her antics kept Callum alive, maybe long enough for help to arrive.
It shouldn’t be long, right?
She scrambled up a tree and jumped from branch to branch. The boughs shook with her movements, but it didn’t matter if they knew where she was. Another sneak attack was impossible, and if they were trying to kill the cat up a tree, that gave the bear time to recover. Callum took out another and when the group turned on him, Joss struck again, choosing the wounded one she’d maimed before. This time, when she sank her fangs into the same wounds, the skull popped under the pressure, and she spat out a hunk of bone. Shuddering, she chewed into his exposed brain. The injury might not kill him, but it couldn’t do him any good. His steps went wonky and he stumbled around, spinning in drunken circles.
Maybe I got the area that controls motor coordination?
As the Gol tumbled sideways, she jumped clear and went up a tree trunk. Callum snapped the dazed Gol’s neck with a powerful strike from enormous paws. I’ve got brains in my teeth. No amount of brushing will ever be enough. The last Gols standing seemed to realize that the tables had turned, and they edged away, but reinforcements arrived at last, and the rest of the order tore the last Gols to pieces.
From her vantage in the tree, Joss shivered and closed her eyes. The smell of blood nearly overwhelmed her.
She heard Callum growling at the other bears, she couldn’t understand the conversation. Really, she might stay up here forever because otherwise she’d have to look at the carnage up close. Her whole body quivered.
The rest of the order didn’t seem to be looking for her, so maybe they thought Callum had done all this by himself. If that was the case, she didn’t want to inspire awkward questions, so she remained still and quiet, hidden in the spring foliage above. The leaves were small and pale green, but dense enough to hide a cunning cat. Eventually, the group retreated, and patrols seemed to form up looking for any stragglers they might have missed.
Only when the bulk of the monks dispersed did she slip down and slink in the shadows, heading back toward the hold. She mixed with the last few who were entering the tunnels; she didn’t think the brothers could recognize everyone in their shifted forms, so they should think she was one of them as long as she didn’t change back while they were in the room. She eased back and waited in the shadows until she heard no signs of movement in the staging area, then she waited a bit longer.
Finally, she crept inside and found the room empty, apart from Callum, who had already shifted and dressed. “I’ll give you five minutes to gear up, then we talk,” he said in a flat voice.
With that, he stepped outside, ostensibly to grant her privacy, but also to keep anyone else out, she suspected. He sounded mad so she slid into woman form and put on her clothes quickly. Now her face was smeared with Gol blood, worse somehow than a cat’s muzzle, and she wiped it away as best she could, then she rinsed her mouth thoroughly, trying to clean it with her fingers. It was five minutes to the second when Callum came back and bolted the door behind him.
She expected a sound berating, but instead, he devoured her with his eyes from across the room, all the longing in the world in that look. “You saved my life.”
“Someone had to.”
“Joss…”
When he said her name like that, all gravel and yearning, she wanted to run to him. She even took a step before she controlled herself. “I thought you were going to yell at me.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.” The absolute torment in his tone shook her from stillness.
“What do you want to do?”
“To hold you. Touch you. Kiss you. Take you as my own and be damned to anyone who would keep me from you.”
There were reasons that they shouldn’t, but the fog was getting worse in her head. “This is…it’s battle fever. Adrenaline is making you say things you’ll regret.”
“I don’t care anymore. Today, you went to war for me, kit. You’re not a fighter. Your heart beats for music, but you battled to defend me.”
“If you cross this line—”
“There is no line. Not anymore. Not between you and me.”
A chill swept over her, and Joss had no idea if it was cold, reaction, or excitement. She was still trying to wrap her head around the new situation when he closed the distance between them in three great strides, yanking her against him so hard that it knocked the breath out of her, but she didn’t resist. The wildfire rushing through him sparked in her as well. His body was so big, every inch of him straining toward her, and Joss dug her hands into his back, urging him closer still.
He was hard against her belly, shamelessly so, and she reveled in his desire. Deep in his throat, he made a sound that thrilled her to her bones as he lifted her. Most men would bend for a kiss—not Callum McRae.
Instead he brought her to his mouth with effortless strength and ravished her lips as if only her taste could sustain him.
This was not how Callum had pictured their first kiss.
But he couldn’t resist any longer, and it didn’t matter that she tasted of Gol blood instead of her natural sweetness. Her reckless, unselfish protection had driven him beyond the ability to keep his vows. He didn’t even want to.
He hadn’t been a true monk since the first time he heard her sing.
Callum explored her lips with teeth and tongue. It had been so long that he’d almost forgotten how to do this, but she reminded him with brushes of mouth, teases of tongue. She cupped his cheek in one hand and stroked his bearded jaw as they kissed. He shifted to feel more of her softness, holding her pinned between the door and his cock. She whimpered and squirmed, right into his mouth, so he caught each tender breath when his movements created the right pressure.
Joss knotted a fist in his hair and tugged. With real regret he relented and broke the kiss, only to discover that she wanted him to change targets. Her head fell back, revealing the soft arch of her throat. With a little growl, he ran his lips over her neck, biting gently at her urging, and that drew a long, tremulous moan from her. Joss locked her legs around his waist then, undulating her hips until the sheer heat of her radiated through their clothes.
She’s so hot. For me.
And they’d barely kissed.
This wasn’t the place, on some level he knew that, but he couldn’t stop either. Not with her twined around him so beautifully, panting for his next touch. Callum went back to her lips, grazing them again, again, then he skimmed kisses down her throat, locking onto the side of her neck because it drove her crazy. Her movements grew frantic, and he loved how she humped against him as if she couldn’t help it.
“You’ll make me come,” she gasped.
Callum was all in favor, but just then, someone rattled the door handle. “Why is this locked?”
Andar. He’s looking for me.
He couldn’t even swear, as the other man would hear it. In silence he set Joss down, but he didn’t let go of her. In the time it would take Andar to find someone to open the door, they could
sneak away. He listened as the footsteps moved off, then he tugged her with him. Quickly, he checked to make sure they were clear of onlookers, then he hurried out of the staging area, aware that anyone who glanced their way would instantly know what they had been doing.
His raging erection was a dead giveaway.
By sticking to a circuitous route, they avoided seeing anyone until they got to their building. Joss doubtless expected him to disavow what had happened as a moment of weakness. He had no intention of doing that, and there would never be a better time to make his intentions known. Callum followed her inside the rooms that felt more welcoming than his own and closed the door.
“I got carried away,” he said.
“You’re not the only one.” She wouldn’t look at him and she hadn’t said a word as they sneaked through the courtyard.
Callum understood how she must feel and he hated it. “Joss.”
“I know, I shouldn’t—”
“You should,” he cut in deliberately. “I’m not sorry about what happened just now. I’m only sorry that we were interrupted, and then I made you feel like a dirty secret on the way back.”
Then she did turn, surprise kindling her green eyes to a lambent glow. “Isn’t that exactly what I am?”
“For a monk,” he acknowledged. “But I’m your man. I just haven’t wanted to admit it because the situation was…complicated.”
“Isn’t it still?”
“Yes, but I’m not willing to sacrifice you to the situation. As soon as I get the chance, I’ll talk to the abbot.”
“What will you tell him?”
“That he was right. I can’t live with a leg in each camp, and that I’m choosing to lead Burnt Amber.”
She folded her hands as if the urge to reach for him was too powerful to resist otherwise. “Because of me?”
“I’d be lying if I said you didn’t factor into the decision. There’s no joy when I picture going back to the monastery when the war is over. Before, that life gave me peace. Now, it looks like drudgery.”
