by T. S. Joyce
“Hard pass.” The Blackwing Dragon hadn’t even taken his eyes off the soccer game on the television screen behind the bar when he answered.
Ryder groaned. “Kaaaane. Just fucking do it so I don’t have to move all my stuff down there.”
Kane slammed the rest of his drink and twitched his head at Bubba, ordering another. With a muttered curse that started with “M” and ended with “other fucker,” Kane plopped down onto the stool beside Ryder and jacked up his black eyebrows behind his sunglasses. “Happy?”
“Yes, thank you for asking. I’m now getting laid once a night—”
“I don’t care.”
“—and our business is taking off—”
“Still don’t care.”
“—and yesterday, I convinced my mate to wear a thong for a whole hour—”
“Don’t caaaare.”
“—and now I’ve got a Blackwing Dragon as my fourth best friend.”
Kane looked sad and defeated. God, Ryder loved annoying people. Beside him, Wes snickered and shook his head.
“S’cuse me, Ryder Anderson?” a man asked from behind them.
Ryder glanced over his shoulder at a grizzly-looking older man with a long, scruffy beard and silver, greasy hair. His skin was leathered, his wrinkles deep, but there was a hardness in his dark eyes that had Ryder’s hackles on the rise.
Wes murmured, “His last name’s Croy, and he’s eating, man. He can sign autographs after we’re done.” His tone sounded as troubled as Ryder felt.
Ryder forced himself to turn his back on the predator. He didn’t smell like a shifter. Wes and Kane were still staring at the man behind him and would keep his exposed side safe enough, but fuck, he wanted away from this guy.
“You know me.”
“I assure you I don’t.”
“You don’t recognize me, son?”
Ryder’s heart dropped to the toes of his boots. Robbie Anderson. He blinked slowly and stared at the liquor case behind the bar, wishing he could smash one of them across the asshole’s cheekbone.
Ryder offered the old man his profile, then glared at him over his shoulder. “What the fuck do you want?”
“You ignored my messages.”
“I think you should leave,” Wes said coolly. The air reeked of dominance and anger now. Wes had seen all the bad years. He’d witnessed the aftermath of Robbie’s destruction.
“Two minutes of your time is all I’m beggin’.” There was still a hardness that didn’t match his pleading words, and all Ryder wanted to do was escape. He wanted to tuck Lexi under his wing and move away, break his bond to the Bloodrunners, hide for the rest of his life in a hole deep enough that Robbie would never find him again.
“Two minutes, and you’ll never have to see me again.”
Ryder turned slowly on the barstool. As he locked gazes with the man, the slight familiarity was there. It was in the eyes. They hadn’t softened in all these years. “I want your word on that. I mean, your word’s pretty fuckin’ flimsy, but I want it anyway.”
“You have my word.” Robbie’s lips twisted into an empty smile, as if pretending he wasn’t a snake.
Ryder followed him to a booth nearby, all the while thanking the powers that be that Lexi was working late and not here to witness this. When the old man’s face melded with the cruel face that had laughed when five-year-old Ryder had been lying on the floor, clutching his throbbing cheek, Ryder’s heartrate went crazy. He clenched his fists against the urge to strangle the final breaths out of Robbie right here and now. Ryder tossed a look back at Wes, whose eyes had gone black as a raven’s, and Kane was staring after him with an unreadable gaze behind those sunglasses.
And for a moment, Ryder felt like a child again, sent off by his mom to spend a few days with Robbie. The fear was still there. But as Ryder sat back on the booth seat, he studied the monster who had been lurking in the shadows of his life all this time, and he came to realize something. Robbie Anderson was just a man, not a monster. He only had the power Ryder gave him, and that shit ended now.
Ryder wasn’t some scared kid anymore. He wasn’t small and helpless. He had fifty pounds of muscle on his biological father, more fighting experience under his belt than humans could guess at, and his owl wasn’t the terrified, gray, little owlet anymore. Inside, his animal raged to be set free to bleed this man.
Robbie made a disgusted ticking sound and said, “Nice eyes.” Fuckin’ little freak.
Ryder wanted to pummel his face with his bare hands. “Two minutes. What do you want?”
“I came to see how much you’re like me now. I want to go knowing I left my mark on the world.”
Ryder huffed a breath and shook his head. “Zero percent like you. I was raised by a good man.”
“Raised by one don’t mean you’re his, boy.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
“Because my real dad calls me that. He earned nicknames. You earned nothing.”
“I’m your real dad. My blood runs through your veins, Ryder. I named you. I watched you come screaming into this world, and no dad was prouder.”
“Bullshit.” Ryder shook his head, disgusted. He looked around the bar, anywhere but at Robbie’s dead eyes.
“You feel the emptiness yet?”
Bile clawed up the back of Ryder’s throat as he crossed his arms.
“You feel the hole? The one you can’t fill up with anything. That’s from me. That’s from your granddad and great granddad, down through the generations. And oh, I was just like you, thinkin’ I would break the curse. It’s why I tried so hard with your mom.”
“You didn’t try. I remember everything. I remember how unhappy you made her. How you didn’t want to touch her. I saw you standing on the other side of her bedroom door when she was sobbing one night, and you were smiling. You were a shit husband.”
“I did the best I could with her, and you’ll do the same to the woman you play house with. Why do you think you’re thirty and still haven’t settled down? I used to hate the curse. Hated being the way I was, until I didn’t anymore. One day I just realized some men are made for families, and some men are made for procreation. We Anderson’s are made for the latter.”
Ryder hated him. Hated him for what he was doing. Consciously, Ryder knew this was horseshit. His dad was just a lowlife abusive sonofabitch. He was a master manipulator who could turn words and phrases and make people question everything. He was that good at lying. But right now, his words made so much damn sense. Maybe Beaston and Weston never saw him with a mate because he had that poisonous Anderson blood flowing through his veins. Maybe he’d been broken from birth.
Robbie leaned forward. “The best thing you can do is leave your baby mommas to raise your mistakes, because I see the monster in you, Ryder. It’s the same monster that lives in me.”
“I remember what you did,” Ryder gritted out. “I remember everything. Every bruise, every scratch, every fractured bone, every drop of blood. I remember every hateful word you spewed at me, and I remember how you would look my mom in her eyes and tell her you took good care of me when she wasn’t around, you piece of shit. Damn straight you got a monster in you, Robbie. But I’m nothing like you. Two minutes is up. Do the world a favor and die quickly.”
Ryder stood, but Robbie followed him toward the bar. “I wanted a different life for you. Your mom and that boar ruined you. I only made girls after you, and my only son who coulda carried on my family name was brainwashed with all that hippy-dippy shifter shit.”
“Yeah, well that shifter shit is my life since I’m a fuckin’ shifter and all.”
“You weren’t supposed to be!”
Rage blasted through Ryder’s body, and the edges of his vision collapsed inward. In an instant, he had Robbie against the back wall, his hand crushing his throat. “What do you mean by that?”
“I tried to save you.”
“Save me from what?”
“From that fucking animal your momma pu
t inside of you.”
The feel of Robbie’s sagging, clammy skin made Ryder sick. He released him and stared at the old man in horror. “What did you do?”
“I signed you up for a program that would’ve given you a normal life, and your mom said no. I fought hard for you, but that asshole boar pushed me out of your life.”
“What program?” Ryder asked low. It better not be what he fucking thought it was.
“You would’ve been one of the first to be genetically cleansed.”
Ryder linked his hands behind his head and backed up a couple of steps. He wanted to retch at what Robbie had admitted. Mom and Mason hadn’t ever told him this. Why the fuck hadn’t they told him? Because it would hurt you worse. They were protecting you.
Ryder hated Robbie. Hated. Him.
In a ragged whisper, he asked, “You wanted to torture me? You wanted to strip my animal away? Why? Because I wasn’t like you? Because I wasn’t human enough? You fucking asshole. You arrogant fucking asshole. You aren’t top of the food chain! I am! Genetic cleansing, are you fucking kidding me? That’s why you gave up parental rights, isn’t it?” Ryder wrenched his voice louder. “Isn’t it?”
“Of course it is! I had to make a stand, and I wasn’t raising some little fr—”
Ryder hit him across the jaw to stop that word from tumbling past his lips. “Don’t you fucking say it.”
Hunched to the side, Robbie spat red and favored his swollen lip when he said, “Genetic cleansing would’ve fixed you.”
Ryder was shoved backward, and his view of Robbie was blocked by Kane’s massive shoulders. The Blackwing Dragon pushed Robbie up the wall, locking his arm across Robbie’s throat.
Robbie was red and choking, gagging, clawing at Kane’s arm. Ryder stood with his hands out, wondering what the fuck was happening.
“You think genetic cleansing fixes shifters?” Kane growled out in a terrifying voice. “It doesn’t fix shit.” He tossed Robbie like a ragdoll across the room and limped after him unrushed. Smoothly, Kane bent down and pulled a knife from where it had been hidden near his ankle.
“Kane!” Wes warned, but the Blackwing Dragon didn’t even hesitate. His limp eased with each step until he walked smooth as a predator.
Robbie was scrambling backward on the floor, terror written on his face. How utterly satisfying to watch his dad scared of pain.
Wes put himself between Kane and Robbie, but Kane shoved the Novak Raven out of the way like he was nothing.
“Ryder!” Wes yelled.
Fuck, Wes was right. As much as Robbie deserved to die, Kane would be locked up for murder. And not in a regular prison. He would be caged where they hid the dangerous shifters from the world.
Ryder bolted for him and cut him off. “Man, don’t do this. He isn’t worth it.”
But Kane’s sunglasses had come off, and his green dragon eyes were glowing and fixed on Robbie. He didn’t even see Ryder. This wasn’t Kane anymore. This was a peek at that destructive Blackwing blood that ran through him. This was a glimpse at Dark Kane.
Ryder pushed him hard, and Wes went at him, too, pushing, pushing, losing ground. The last thing they needed was Kane murdering a human in front of all these witnesses. Or worse yet, losing all control and shifting. One dragon shift in tight quarters, and everyone in here would die. There were others helping now, humans, bar patrons, trying to slow Kane down, and Bubba was dragging Robbie behind the bar.
Kane surged forward, and in desperation to save him, Ryder hit him hard, over and over across his stony jaw until his hand shattered. Pain blasted through his arm. “Snap out of it, Kane!”
“This isn’t even fucking worth it!” Robbie yelled. “You all saw this. He tried to kill me. No amount of money is worth this bullshit.”
“What do you mean no amount of money?” Ryder yelled.
“I ain’t here to apologize, you fuckin’ freak. I’m here because I’m getting paid!” he crowed through a bloody smile. “They’re comin’ for you, boy, because you’re weak. Weak, weak, weak, just like I always knew you would be.” Bubba was shoving him hard toward the door.
Ryder held his throbbing hand to his stomach, gave up on trying to hold Kane back since Robbie was getting bullied toward the exit. The struggling crowd behind him bumped Ryder hard in the back, and he stumbled two steps forward. “Who’s paying you?”
“Hunting like a pack, going after the lowest ranking member of the crew first, which is my boy. What a fuckin’ surprise!”
“Who?” Ryder roared.
Right before Robbie disappeared out the exit door, he offered Ryder a vile grin and said, “Wolves got your girl.”
Chapter Fifteen
Lexi poured one last line of shots and screwed the cap back on the whiskey as the groom-to-be, Axton, made a toast.
“To Lexi, who is sweet as honey and easy on the eyes. To Lexi, who has given us all something to look forward to.”
That toast was weird, but they were all drunk, so okay.
She smiled politely and lifted her water bottle as the boys howled and cheered. Axton stared at her too long before he drank his shot down. He was tall and lithe with a runner’s body. He wore a thick, dark beard, but it didn’t cover the scar on the side of his face completely. These men seemed like a rough and tumble group, so maybe he got that in a rock climbing accident or a motorcycle crash or something. His eyes were a striking gray color that probably drove his fiancé wild. Gold was more of Lexi’s color, though.
Uncomfortable with yet another direct stare from Axton, she busied herself with cleaning up and readying to leave. The men, all mid-twenties to early thirties were good tippers. She wouldn’t have stayed if they weren’t and, for the most part, they had been respectful enough. None had touched her or said anything inappropriate.
It was the way they looked at her that made her skin crawl, though. And there was some spark of excitement in the air that she didn’t understand.
“Lexi, I thank you kindly for feeding my boys and me,” Axton said in a conversational tone from across the kitchen island. “I don’t think we’ll be needing your services anymore tonight.”
Some of the men around him made strange whooping sounds, as if excited for her to leave. Weird.
“Sounds good. Thank you all for being such a fun crowd, and I wish you big luck on your upcoming wedding.”
Axton dropped his head and huffed a laugh, and when he lifted his chin again, his eyes looked lighter, more mercury silver than gray. “I ain’t the marrying kind, but I thank you for the well-wishes.”
“Oh.” She frowned, utterly baffled. “But you said this was a bachelor party.”
“Well…” He looked at the men gathering around him. “We’re a bunch of bachelors, and this is a party.”
“More like a war party, though,” one of the shorter men said. His dark eyes had lightened to a caramel brown that seemed to glow, and now Lexi’s fine hairs were rising all over her body.
“Great,” she said, ducking her gaze and pretending she didn’t see the changes happening here. These men weren’t human. This was some kind of crew function that she’d unknowingly been hired to serve.
She grabbed the pile of tips from the counter and folded the bills into her pocket, then shouldered her tote she’d brought with her. Half of her things were still on the counter, but fuck it. She could come back for them later. Right now, all she wanted to do was get out of here.
“Bloodrunner whore.” A tall man with tattoos all over his neck spat on the floor right where she was about to step.
Lexi gasped and stumbled over the puddle of spittle. Clutching her tote bag tightly, she walked faster toward the door. She had a set of good knives, and she would use them if pushed. When she cast a glance over her shoulder, all the men with matching, feral smiles were following her slowly.
Oh God, she just needed to get to her Jeep. Lexi threw open the door and bolted across the porch, past the bubbling hot tub, and down the steep stairs as fast as she could. It was d
ark out, but the lights from the house illuminated the clearing in gold, and the moon above was almost full, casting the surrounding woods in an eerie blue.
Jogging across the lawn toward the corner of the house, she pulled out her biggest knife and her cell phone. Heart galloping in her chest, she dialed Ryder with shaking fingers.
Axton appeared at her side like an apparition, blurring as he ripped the phone from her hand and chucked it at a tree. It shattered into a thousand pieces against the bark, and on reflex, Lexi slashed with her blade, catching him down the arm.
Axton hissed in pain and held his bleeding arm, but as he looked down at the red streaming through his fingers, he smiled, like he found her amusing. And now his eyes were churning such a light gray, they were almost white.
“Get away from me,” she demanded, holding out the blade. Damn her hand as it shook!
Axton’s grin turned wolfish as he held his hands up in surrender and let her pass.
Adrenaline pumping through her, Lexi backed toward the gravel parking spot she’d left her Jeep. Some instinct deep inside of her screamed, don’t give him your back!
But this view was terrifying. Axton’s men were following her slowly, too gracefully, all of their eyes glowing in the dark like monsters. They were spreading out slowly, the ends of the line curving toward her, herding her.
When Lexi’s shoes hit the line of gravel, she turned to sprint for her Jeep, but what she saw made no sense. Her Wrangler was laying on its side, wheels pointed directly at her.
No. No, no, no, that was her escape!
“We’ll let you keep your little knife,” Axton said in a voice that was too low and growly now. “We’ll even give you a two-minute head start. Makes the chase more fun that way.”
“W-what chase?”
“My pack needs to hunt. We’re predators,” Axton explained, canting his head like an animal. “You understand?”
“Please. I just want to go home.”
One of the men wrenched his voice up an octave and repeated, “Please!”
“Please let me go home,” another taunted her.
Axton pointed through the woods with a bloody finger. “That way is the main road. Reach the asphalt, and we’ll let you live.”
