Midnight Touch

by L Ann

“Still at the bar with Isabella and Jaden.”

  Without a word, Asher turned and walked out of the house. Shaun frowned, watching him go.

  “What’s wrong?” Shaun looked at his brother, who kept his gaze focused at a point beyond Shaun’s shoulder. “Deke? What did you find?”

  Deacon ran a hand over his face. “I need to clean up. I’ve been crawling through god knows what.” He started to walk past Shaun, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

  “Deke …”

  “Shaun, I … Look, I’d really rather wait for Mac.”

  “Spit it out, Deacon. What aren’t you saying?”

  Cassie looked from one to the other. “Are they dead?” she asked, her face paling.

  “What?” Deacon twisted to look at her. “No! Fuck … There’s no easy way to say this.” He took a deep breath. “It’s Damien.”

  Shaun’s expression wiped clean. “Damien’s dead,” he said flatly.

  Deacon shook his head. “I saw him, Shaun. For a corpse he looks remarkably healthy.”

  “No! There’s no way. I saw him die. I was there! If it was Damien, I’d have recognised his scent. He couldn’t mask it from me. You’re wrong.”

  Cassie heard the pain in his voice, could smell the anguish in his scent, and stepped closer to him. She’d only ever seen such a look of devastation once before in her life – and that had been the day she and her mother had received the news of her father’s death. That look had been on her face, reflected on her mother’s.

  “Shaun.” She reached out a hand, intending to touch him, and he reeled backwards.

  “No!” His hands came up, warding off his brother as Deacon moved toward him. “You’re wrong. Damien is dead. I. Saw. It. Happen!”

  “I know you did,” Deacon told him, his voice low. “But whatever you saw, brother, it wasn’t his death.”

  Shaun’s green eyes moved from Deacon to Cassie and back again, and the horror and guilt battling for precedence could be seen by both.

  “I can’t … No.” Shaun raked a hand through his hair. “No, you must have been mistaken.” With a low growl, he shouldered past his brother and disappeared out of the house into the darkness.

  “Shaun!” Cassie started to give chase, only to find herself held back by Deacon.

  “Let him go. He’ll be okay. He just needs to time to process this.”

  “But –”

  “Trust me, Blondie. The last thing he needs right now is you watching him drown in guilt.”

  “But isn’t Damien the reason he joined that underground fighting ring?”

  “Underground fighting ring? Is that what he told you it was?” Deacon shook his head. “I suppose he convinced you he joined willingly as well.”

  “He said Damien needed his help to get out. That if they earned enough money between them winning fights, they could buy their way out.”

  Deacon’s laugh was harsh. “That’s quite a story.” He hooked a hand around her arm and dragged her into the kitchen. “Let me tell you the truth of it.” He released her arm and waved a hand toward the chair she and Shaun had been sitting on earlier. “You might as well get comfortable.”

  He waited until she sat down before he spoke again.

  “Which version did he tell you? Was it the one where Damien came to him, begging him to get involved and how he … Damien … got Shaun on the inside?”

  Cassie nodded.

  “Figures that’d be the one he picked. The reality is that Shaun was attacked, beaten up, knocked out and woke up inside a cage. Damien was already there, and he’d sold Shaun out to the Hunters who ran the ring to save his own hide. Shaun will defend Damien’s actions, claiming he was scared and had no other choice, but it’s bullshit.” Deacon glanced around the kitchen, grabbed a mug from the counter-top and poured himself a coffee from the machine burbling away in the corner. “The Hunters take our kind and make money from forcing us to fight. From what Shaun did tell me, they held Damien’s life over his head. Shaun’s always been blind to Damien’s faults. If he didn’t fight, they’d kill Damien. But if he fought, and brought in over two hundred grand, they promised to let Damien go.” He took a swallow of coffee. “Have you ever watched a cage fight, Cassie? Even human ones can be brutal. Put two Shifters in a cage and make them fight to survive and it turns into a bloodbath. And it takes its toll – especially on someone like Shaun.

  “He’s always been the protector. He’s the one who will always step up to protect the innocent, the young, the women. They should have taken me. I’m the fighter. They’d have got more bang for their buck. Not that Shaun can’t fight … he can. They took him simply because Damien knew Shaun would fight for him, to protect him.

  “Anyway, fighting as often as they made him took its toll, and they realised their star wolf was slowing down, making mistakes. They’d developed a drug – one that raised energy levels but broke our connection to our wolves. Highly addictive.”

  “He told me about that. It’s made from belladonna,” Cassie cut in.

  “That’s right. I’d say he tried to resist, probably fought against it, but somehow they locked him down and force-fed it to him … enough to ensure the craving kicked in and he would do anything … anything for another fix.” He sighed. “The rest of it is a bit hazy. We know he thinks he saw Damien’s body. He doesn’t remember how he ended up in the middle of a field in Colorado. But he has dreams … nightmares … and they seem to suggest they overdosed him on Belladonna and left him for dead.”

  “And you’re saying Damien isn’t dead, that what Shaun saw wasn’t his dead body?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “They’ve still got him, as well as Gemma and Scarlet?”

  Deacon was silent for so long, Cassie repeated her question. When he still didn’t reply, she stood up.

  “Deacon?”

  His golden-eyed gaze slid back to her. “No, Cassie, they don’t still have him. Damien is the one who took Gemma and Scarlet. He is the Hunter.”

  Shaun stalked down Main Street, Deacon’s words on repeat inside his head.

  “It’s Damien … It’s Damien … It’s Damien …”

  He clutched his head, trying to block it out. “No, it can’t be. I’d know.”

  He’d seen his cousin bleeding out, head twisted at an unnatural angle. Shaun had listened as his heartbeat had stuttered and fallen silent. He’d stood over him, unable to help.

  If Damien wasn’t dead, if he had survived that match, then Shaun had left him unprotected. Left his cousin weak and defenceless. Logically, he knew he’d had no choice. He’d been drugged and cast out. Discarded and left to die. Emotionally, though, the thought of leaving his cousin to fend for himself, without protection, ate at him. He should have fought harder, refused to leave him.

  Had Deacon really seen him? Or someone who looked like him? Damien had changed a lot during their time in the cages, but one thing that would have stayed the same would be his scent. Shaun would have recognised his cousin’s scent.

  He laughed aloud, the sound echoing down the empty street. There was no way, no fucking way, Damien was alive.

  He was so completely focused on his own thoughts, he didn’t sense company until it was too late. The punch connected with his jaw, sending his head snapping sideways. He shook his head, blinked away the surprise, as a second blow caught him from the other side.

  He was ready before the third one connected, catching the fist in his hand and shoving backwards.

  “What the fuck?” he snapped, his eyes landing on Sam. “Don’t you ever fucking quit?”

  “I was hoping to catch you without your friends. Not so brave now, are you?” Sam taunted.

  Shaun gave brief – very brief – consideration to warning Sam off, then shrugged his shoulders, welcoming the distraction.

  “You want to do this with me? Is she really that important to you? Or are you just pissed because she walked away from you?”

  “I spent two years of my time
on her. I want what’s mine.”

  “So, you’re just smarting then. Got it.”

  “Who the fuck are you, anyway?” Sam demanded. “Rolling into town like some fucking romance-novel hero.”

  “Do you love her?”

  The question seemed to take Sam by surprise. “What?”

  “You heard me. Do you love her?”

  “What the fuck does love have to do with anything?”

  “Because if you’re here putting up a fight because you love her, then I can respect that. It won’t change anything, but it would make sense. But that’s not what you’re about, is it? Your only problem is that you’ve lost face with the town. You’re worried your dirty little secrets are going to be spread out for the whole world to see. And you’re panicking.” Shaun prowled toward the other man, his eyes glinting yellow. “Here’s the thing. I don’t give a fuck about the things you’ve done to anyone else. But if I ever find out you have footage or photos of Cassie doing anything, you better run because I will fucking kill you.”

  “You and your little band of outcasts?” Sam scoffed.

  Shaun’s lips peeled back from his teeth, the yellow in his eyes swallowing the green. “No, just me. Because what you need to understand is that I do love her.”

  He padded closer to Sam, who stumbled backwards into the alley between two shops. “She’s the sun my fucking world revolves around,” Shaun continued. “And if you do anything to dim that brightness, I … will … fucking … kill … you.” The snarl left his throat and Sam’s fear washed over him, thrilling his wolf.

  It would be so easy. The taste of Sam’s fear was already on his tongue. Just a few steps closer and it could be his blood.

  Blood …

  Cages …

  Fighting …

  Damien …

  A howl tore from his throat, and Shaun dropped to his knees, panting, forcing his wolf’s desire for blood down.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” he growled. He blinked, felt a sting on his neck and his body tensed. Something was very wrong.

  He saw a shadow come to a stop just in front of his bowed head, forced himself to look up. Sam stood there, watching carefully, just out of reach.

  “What did you do?” Shaun forced the words from frozen lips. He shook his head, tried to focus, could feel his heartbeat slowing down.

  Sam opened his hand, smirking, and Shaun watched as he dropped a needle to the ground in front of him.

  “I took an opportunity.”

  The clear liquid still in the syringe caught his attention, and he lurched backwards. “What did you give me?”

  “Propofol. She doesn’t belong to you. And I was assured this wouldn’t hurt you, just knock you out long enough for me to remind Cassie of what we had.”

  “Never gonna happen,” Shaun panted with the strain of fighting the drug coursing through his veins.

  “You have no idea how persuasive I can be.”

  Shaun heard the scrape of a shoe against the ground and tried to throw himself forward, to stop Sam leaving. His hand reached out, curled around air, and he fell forward onto hands and knees. Elbows bent, gave out under his weight and he crashed to the ground. As darkness tugged at him, he saw a shape crouch in front of him.

  “Hello, cousin. Are you ready to play?”

  The return to consciousness was abrupt, painful and punctuated by a high-pitched screaming which felt like hot spikes being rammed through his eyes and into his brain. His skin itched, burned, and he immediately recognised the feeling. He could already feel the hunger building.

  How much belladonna had he been given while he was unconscious?

  With a strength of will he knew wouldn’t last, he pushed the hunger aside and, without opening his eyes, took in a breath and sampled the air.

  He could smell blood, sex and fear. It permeated the air around him, drenched every breath he took. Mixed in with that, there was the scent of unwashed bodies, sadness and … fury?

  Carefully, aware that any move would bring the hunger and pain to the fore, Shaun turned his head and slowly cracked his eyes open. His eyesight was dull, everything overlaid with grey shadows, a flatness that would have told him, if he hadn’t already known, that there was belladonna in his bloodstream.

  How many doses? Had he been given enough for it to drag him back under its grip?

  He drew in another breath, slow and deep, and rolled onto his side, hissing in pain as a clanking of chains sounded close to his head.

  “You’re awake. God, I thought for sure he’d killed you!”

  The unexpected female voice caused him to flinch, his heart-rate increasing.

  Cassie?

  Another breath confirmed that no, it wasn’t her.

  “Gemma?” Shaun’s voice was a rough croak. “Are you hurt?”

  “Nothing I can’t get over with lots of therapy.” There was a tone, something Shaun felt he should chase down, but not now. It would keep until they were free.

  “Scarlet?”

  There was a loaded silence, and then … “I’m sorry, I don’t know where he took her.”

  “He?” Shaun lifted an arm, noted the cuff around his wrist and dropped it back down.

  Been here before.

  “Surly looking guy. Reminds me a lot of your brother, actually.”

  Shaun grunted, feeling the first pang of withdrawal – nothing he couldn’t ignore for now.

  How long had he been unconscious?

  “Do you know where we are?” He asked through clenched teeth, riding out the sharp stab of pain.

  “There’s an old grain mill on the outskirts of town. I think we’re beneath it.” She hesitated, and Shaun was almost overwhelmed by the scent of disgust, of shame, of hatred. “He took me upstairs for a while. I saw fields.”

  “I’m sorry, Gemma,” he whispered, seconds before the pain of withdrawal hit a second stronger time.

  It was close to 1AM, and Shaun still hadn’t returned to the house. Cassie was standing in the kitchen arguing with Deacon about going after Shaun when the first pain hit. She doubled over, gasping for breath. As suddenly as it started, it was gone, and she was left panting with the after-effects.

  “What was that?” Deacon asked as she eased upright gingerly.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “It felt like someone was stabbing me.” She lifted the hem of her top and ran a palm across her stomach. “There’s nothing there, though.”

  “Have you felt anything like that before?” Cormac asked from his position near the door. He had arrived at the house an hour after Shaun had left and had agreed that they should leave him alone to blow off steam for a while before going after him.

  “No, never … well unless you count period pains. They can be pretty gruesome at times.”

  “Is it your time of the month?” Cormac didn’t shy away from the topic.

  There was a faint blush on her cheeks when she replied. “No, not yet.”

  “For what it’s worth, they’ll reduce to twice a year once you’ve made your first successful shift,” Cormac told her, and she gaped at him.

  “Twice a year?”

  Deacon snorted. “I don’t think males would be able to handle a female in season once a month. Twice a year is exhausting enough.”

  “In season? Really, Deacon? That’s how you refer to it?”

  “It’s the truth.” He grinned at her. “You’re in for a treat. Shifter seasons don’t work the same as human females, Cassie.” He crossed the room and pressed his lips to her ear. “It’s all about the fucking, baby.”

  “Oh my God!” Cassie slapped her hands against Deacon’s chest and shoved him away from her. “You’re disgusting!”

  Laughing, he returned to his spot at the opposite side of the table.

  “As crude as he is, it’s the truth,” Cormac told her. “It’s usually when mates are chosen, and cubs are conceived.”

  “Wait! Cubs? You don’t have babies, you have cubs?”

  Cormac and Deacon s
hared an amused look. “No, Cassie. It’s just a pack term. You will notice over time we use a lot of pack references instead of human ones. If you ever decide to have a cub … a baby … it’ll be born with two legs and look like any normal human baby.”

  “Shifting comes with puberty,” Deacon added. “Until a cub reaches thirteen, they stay human. Once their thirteenth birthday hits, the urge to shift will take over.”

  “Is there a –” she stopped, another wave of pain overwhelming her. She swayed on her feet and Deacon darted forward to catch her before she fell.

  “What the fuck was that?” he demanded, his eyes on Cassie’s pale face.

  “I … I—" she moaned and dug her nails into Deacon’s arm as wave after wave of pain washed over her. “God, Deacon, I can’t …” her spine arched, and her eyes rolled back in her head.

  “Fuck!” Deacon swung her unconscious form up into his arms and spun around to face Cormac. “What the fuck is happening?”

  Cormac threw a glance at Asher and Jaden, who had appeared in the doorway at Cassie’s cry.

  “Go and find Shaun. Two hours is long enough to work through his issues,” he told them, and they set off at a run. “Take her upstairs, Deacon. Try and make her comfortable.”

  “Come on, cousin. Wake up.”

  Ice-cold water hit his face and brought him back to consciousness with a gasp.

  Was he upright?

  “Open your eyes.”

  Shaun felt a hand hit the left side of his face in a hard slap and forced his lids open.

  “There we go.” Another slap to the right side.

  Shaun blinked, his focus swimming in and out, blurry images in front of him.

  “Stay with me, cousin.” The hand gripped his chin, forced his head up. “Look at me.”

  “Damien?” He could barely force the name out through lips that felt sore, swollen.

  Had he been screaming? Shouting? Howling? His throat felt so raw.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t come for you, cousin?”

  Shaun struggled to focus, sucked in a deep breath and hissed at the agony it caused.

  Broken ribs? What had Damien done to him?

  “Why?” he whispered. “Why would you do this?”