by H. D. Gordon
Devon sighed, wandering over to the chair behind the large oak desk and sliding down into it, weary from the tough act he’d had to put on in front of Bain.
“I know that, D,” he said. “I just wonder… when is enough, enough?”
My hands clenched into fists, and it was an effort not to speak through clenched teeth. “Enough is when the twins and their children and their grandchildren never have to worry about money again,” I snapped. “Otherwise, what is the point of any of it? I’ll not have our family fall into the kind of poverty father let us live in. Not ever again.”
I did not speak harshly to my brother often, if ever, really, and so the look of disapproval behind his eyes was enough to make me glare. Because we both knew that I was the true Alpha of the family, he dropped his gaze and hung his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he backtracked a bit.
“I’m only trying to avoid trouble, D,” Devon said. “After everything that happened before… “ He sighed. “I’m only trying to avoid trouble.”
I slipped my hands into my pockets and leaned back on my heels, eyes narrowing a fraction. My voice came out smooth and calm. “And tell me, big brother, what is it you think I’m trying to do?”
Devon met my gaze, the genuine worry behind his bright blue eyes tempering me a touch. “That’s kind of the point, D,” he said. “I don’t know… I never know.”
I sighed, telling myself that it was not him I was angry at—not really. I was stressed from various complications that had cropped up as of late, and had been having a hard time sleeping, so the thinly veiled threat from Carson Cartier had not been a welcome interference. A few years ago, I would have told Arsen Bain to go flog himself if he’d walked into my home and spoken to my sibling like that; Gods knew I’d had similar reactions (and worse) to such threats in the past, but I was different now. Despite whatever my brother believed, I really had been trying to avoid trouble.
But I was finding that in matters of business, much like in matters of love, some forms of trouble were simply unavoidable.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, ready to be done with the conversation for now. “I just need you to trust me, brother,” I said.
Devon looked up from where he still sat behind the desk, and gave a small shake of his head.
“It’s not you I don’t trust,” he mumbled, his words ringing in my ears as I stepped out of the office and left him to his thoughts.
The Warner Plantation had been a lucky find, and in the past three years since my family and I had first come here, I’d grown to love the place more than I would have thought possible at first.
After the mess that we’d left behind in Borden, we’d hopped on a ship with the Dead Pirates, and had sailed for nearly a month straight across the Servian Sea, until we’d reached the other continent, a giant land mass known as Calla Camari. I’d only ever heard about the place in tales from travelers who’d stopped in at the bars in Borden.
Once we’d hit shore, I’d paid the Captain, and my group of mismatched people had agreed we would head deeper into Calla Camari, just to put as much distance between our past as we could. It had taken another month of travels, but we’d stumbled upon the Warner Plantation, and as soon as I saw the place, I just knew.
Kyra had been riding in the horsedrawn carriage beside me, her curly black hair wild from the long journey, but her violet eyes still alight with the unyielding optimism she always managed. We’d trundled by the property, the imposing main house visible in the distance, and I pulled the carriage to a stop beside the wooden FOR SALE sign that was stuck in the ground just outside the stone gate wrapping around the property.
Kyra had clicked her tongue. “Here?” she said. “Really?”
I’d smirked at my best friend. “I didn’t even say anything.”
Kyra snorted. “You don’t have to. I know you well enough to recognize that look. But… here?”
“And what’s wrong with it?”
“Other than the fact that I’m pretty sure it’s an old Dog plantation? Nothing.”
I paused. Dog plantations was another name for slave plantations, places where the worst of our nature had played out for decades, where Wolves were enslaved and beaten, the unluckiest among them forced to fight in cages to the death for the entertainment of the wealthy.
“Your kind believe places like this have bad soil,” Kyra said. “Full of ghosts and curses.”
My head tilted. “I bet we can get it for a good price then,” I’d said.
Kyra had only shaken her head and laughed.
I’d been right about the good price.
Now, nearly three years later, with hard work and care, my family and I had managed to turn the Warner plantation into our home. It was just under one hundred acres of green land, with about three quarters of it covered in forest; perfect for late night shifts and runs under the moonlight. We’d painted the main house with a fresh coat of white paint, and the massive columns that made up the façade gave the place a stately look. A gravel, circular drive was accented by a fountain that had proved a hell of an effort to get working again, but was worth it in my opinion for the effect it added.
All my life, I’d dreamed of one day owning a place like this, had imagined moving out of The Mound for good and having a home for the people I loved, but in all honesty, part of me had never really believed it could actually happen.
Considering where we’d come from, I didn’t mind saying that we had done well for ourselves. That I had done well for us, and I was proud of that.
I’d also be damned if I’d let some rich Wolf like Carson Cartier threaten the ones I loved and the things I’d built.
I pushed these thoughts from my head until after dinner, where the ones I loved gathered around to dine together. Not only did the house have a large kitchen, but it also had a separate dining room, with a long wooden table that was large enough to house us all.
It was here that we ate and gathered, here that the fruits of all the meticulous planning and lucky breaks culminated to show me just how fortunate I really was.
Little Analise and Ada looked less like toddlers and more like children everyday, and Demarco and Delia were turning into young adults right before my eyes. Nyla and Zara—the two Wolves who I’d liberated from a certain abusive bastard—had stuck with me, and were now as much a part of my Pack as any of the others. Cora and Cecelia—both Vampires—had also stayed and were family as well. Only Emilia, the Fae among us, had split off and gone her own way, but we’d parted with the best of wishes.
In other words, life was going just fine, indeed.
And, yet, I was having trouble sleeping.
After everyone had gone to bed, I shifted into my Wolf form and roamed the perimeter of the estate near the house, making sure everything was as it should be. This was an activity I’d taken to doing as of late, and eventually, I always ended up on the roof of the main house, looking out at the land below.
It was here that I’d been falling asleep lately, remaining in my Wolf form all night until the sun rose. From atop the flat roof of the house, I could see in every direction, could hear the water of the stream that cut through the forest on the eastern part of our land, could watch the glittering lights of Cerys, the capital city of Calla Camari, in the distance.
The roof was the only place I could seem to find sleep, the only spot I felt comfortable resting my head, as if I were waiting for something.
Or someone.
In all honesty, there were a few candidates that were on the list, a few people that could ruin everything if they ever did happen to find us where we’d settled, halfway across the world.
As the moon rose over the Warner Plantation, I settled down on my belly atop the roof of the main house and rested my head between my paws.
To my relief, just as it had been for nearly three years now, all was quiet.
We received no unexpected visitors from far away lands, no ghosts from a world left burning in my wake.
Chapter 3
>
Early the next morning I decided to take the train into Cerys to check on our businesses and make sure everything was running smoothly.
It was a pleasant day, the sun shining and the weather just warm enough to carry a promise of the coming spring. I decided to walk the few miles to the tracks, and took in the landscape along the way, my hands resting in my pockets as I strolled along.
The train station nearest the house was little more than planks of wood set alongside the tracks with a handful of benches and a ticket booth. As I waited for the train to arrive, I noticed the name Cartier on the side of the ticket booth for the first time, and deduced that that cocky bastard Carson must own the railway as well in these parts.
It seemed I had a knack for getting on the wrong side of powerful people, no matter my efforts to the contrary.
I did not have to wait long before the train that would take me into Cerys pulled into the station, and I was glad to board as the sky had gone a bit gray as I’d walked, the scent in the air promising a light rain.
Moving through the train car, I found a seat near a window and relaxed back into it. The whistle blew loudly, echoing in my sensitive ears and announcing our departure, and the train lurched forward.
I watched the land rush by as we picked up speed, trying to push thoughts of sleepless nights and past troubles from my mind.
There were two stops between Cerys and the Warner Plantation. Out of habit, I observed the passengers boarding at the last stop before the destination.
It was a good thing I was doing so, too, because just as I was clearing my mind of ghosts, I glimpsed one of the males that was climbing onto the train. He handed his ticket to the checker to get it punched, and then headed for the car that I was currently sitting in.
I actually rubbed at my eyes in an attempt to find out if I was imagining things, but it was quite apparent that I was not. I’d spent the previous evening fretting over a ghost from my past, but it had been the wrong ghost.
I stood from my seat and made my way to the back of the car, glancing back at the male who’d just boarded a final time because I simply couldn’t believe it.
But there he was, as handsome as the day I’d first met him, dressed in a Hounds’ uniform, his eyes a shade of blue that I would recognize anywhere.
Erek Blackwood.
I yanked open the door at the rear of the train car and passed quickly through the one connected to the rear of it, leaping over the gap between the cars as the tracks and gravel rushed by in a blur below. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I didn’t think he’d seen me, but I couldn’t be sure, so I didn’t stop there.
I continued on until I’d reached the final car of the train, running away from the Hound from my past as if my tail had caught fire.
This was a poor choice of words, and thoughts of the last time I’d seen Erek Blackwood—the night of the storehouse fire—flitted through my mind again, making me grimace.
That was the night he’d killed Lukas Borden. The night I’d gotten him kidnapped and nearly killed himself. The night everything in my world had changed.
I came to a door that was closed and locked, and snapped the lock with a sharp twist of my wrist, slipping inside the car and falling back against the door, the breath heaving in and out of my chest.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I cursed the fates for such a twist. I could feel a cold sweat dripping down my spine, and pressed my ear to the door, trying to pick up the possible sound of footsteps following.
“May I help you?” said a voice from within the cabin I’d broken into, surprising me enough to make me nearly jump out of my skin.
My head whipped toward the sound of the voice, and my jaw fell open at what I saw.
It took me a moment to recognize the male, to pinpoint how I knew him, where I’d seen him before. I couldn’t seem to find the words to address the oddness of the situation, could only open and close my mouth a couple times without producing a single sound.
In other words, I could only stare wide-eyed like an idiot.
“Crazy Lady?” the male said, and the memory of how I knew him came flooding back.
It’d been nearly three years, but he looked the same as he had upon the only occasion I’d encountered him, which had been at the Borden’s annual Winter Harvest Ball.
He wore a suit of dark blue, the cut tailored perfectly to his strong build, accentuating his trim waist and wide shoulders. His skin was a lovely shade of light brown, his black hair trimmed neatly against his head. His hazel eyes twinkled with a mischief that made me uneasy, and his charming smile revealed dimples when he grinned and again called me the name he’d dubbed me the last time we’d met.
He sat on a plush couch that had been arranged in the private cabin, which I noticed only now must’ve been reserved for the wealthiest of passengers. On either side of him sat two of the most beautiful females I’d ever seen, their faces painted with makeup that accentuated their features, and their sparse clothing doing the same for their bodies. Their scents revealed that they were both Fae. He had an arm around each of them, but he sat forward now, his eyebrows raising as he waited for me to respond. The two Fae females giggled as I tried to form some kind of answer.
“What are you doing?” Elian the Demon asked.
I held up a hand, pressing my ear to the cabin door again, ignoring the curious looks the three of them pinned me with as I listened to heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Elian opened his mouth to say something, but I shushed him, shooting him and the two females a look that had them snapping their mouths shut.
Then I could breathe again as the footsteps retreated down the hall.
I dropped my head, telling myself that if Erek had seen me and had been following me, he would have found me by now.
Then my head popped up again as I remember the three others in the cabin were all staring at me as if I were some sort of… Well, crazy lady.
“Um, this is a private cabin,” said one of the Fae females.
I didn’t like her tone, and just looking at how physically perfect the two of them were made me feel inadequate in my own skin, but I’d already had enough excitement for a single day, so I gave them a final nod and mumbled an apology, slipping out of the cabin and shutting the door behind me.
I was halfway down the hall, in search of a public car on this blasted train that was as far as possible from the Hound, when the door to the private cabin opened, and the Demon stepped out.
“Hold on a second,” the Demon said, and I considered ignoring the request before sighing and turning back.
“What?” I asked.
This made him chuckle, those dimples appearing in his cheeks again. “You just broke into my private cabin, Crazy Lady,” he said. “That’s what.”
I spread my hands, glancing down the hall again to make sure Erek hadn’t materialized. I turned back to the Demon. “And I said I’m sorry.”
His grin grew a bit wider, and I begrudgingly realized that he was rather handsome. “Well, that settles it, then.”
I nodded once. “Yes, it does.”
Adjusting my irons under my jacket, I peered through the window into the next cart, making sure the coast was clear before crossing over.
“May I ask who you’re hiding from, Crazy Lady?” the Demon said from behind me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I narrowed my eyes on him, giving him the full weight of my Alpha’s gaze. He raised a brow at this, but didn’t break my stare, which was a testament to his strong character.
“Stop calling me that,” I snapped. “And what makes you think I’m hiding from someone?”
The Demon slipped his hands into the pockets of his dark blue slacks, leaning back a bit on the heels of his expensive shoes. “I would call you by your name if you’d shared it with me,” he said, and waved a hand in my direction. “And it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the hiding part.”
I checked my posture, realizing that of course I looked anxious as hell with my body language, a
nd raised my chin a fraction. “Dita Silvers,” I said. “Now will you leave me alone?”
I looked through the window again, and dropped down into a crouch in a heartbeat when I saw Erek’s face appear in the next cart, his head turning this way and that, as if he were looking for someone.
“Shit,” I said, as I crouched below the window, my eyes going as wide as duel moons as I peered over the bottom and ducked down again.
My heart was thundering in my chest, and I blinked up to see that the Demon was grinning smugly down at me. He held my gaze and folded his arms slowly across his chest.
I scoffed, my jaw clenching tightly. “Okay,” I said. “So I’m hiding from someone.”
The Demon chuckled, the sound annoyingly charming, making me want to punch him in his balls, which were eye-level as I crouched in my position.
“Let me guess,” he said. “Ex-lover?”
Whatever expression was on my face made him laugh again.
“Again,” he said, “it doesn’t take a genius.”
“Is he gone?” I hissed, considering the weight of the weapons on my hips, wondering if I could use them on Erek Blackwood if it came down to it, if I absolutely had to.
Elian leaned forward a bit and peered through the windows. “Oh, not at all,” he said. “In fact, it looks as though he’s heading this way.” His head tilted as my heart galloped along. “Yep. Definitely coming this way.”
The urge to shift into my Wolf form and bite the Demon just for his amused expression struck me, but I somehow avoided it.
“Shit,” I repeated.
The Demon laughed.
Just when I was starting to consider very drastic measures, Elian opened the door to his private cabin and waved a hand at me.
I stared up at him with wide eyes, the air rushing in and out of my lungs.
“Well,” he said, “are you coming or not?”
He didn’t have to tell me twice.
