by Woods, Erica
Hope was scared?
Did I frighten her?
The very notion was abhorrent.
It took effort to unclench my fists and even my breathing. More effort than it should have, thanks to the frustrating human. “Tell me what—” I stopped myself and tried again. “Will you tell me what is bothering you? Please,” I added for good measure.
She finally looked up at me, eyes wide in her pale face.
Is she not getting enough sun?
“I just . . . I thought you were upset with me.”
That gave me pause. “Why would you assume that?”
“You seemed upset. After . . . you know.”
After I gave in to the all-encompassing hunger gnawing at my gut and tasted her? “I am not upset.”
She didn’t look convinced. “You aren’t?”
“No. Is there anything else on your mind?”
The female bit her lip and avoided my gaze. “N-no.”
“Are you certain?” I detested her hesitance. She should tell me everything that bothered her. Always. How else could I take care of her the way I was supposed to now that she was going to be mine?
She nodded and remained quiet.
Why would she not tell me? She had agreed to become friends, and sharing was something friends did, was it not? I had never had any friends besides my brothers, and we all adhered to our unspoken agreement of not prodding at that which was not freely offered.
Annoyed that the little chit was making this harder than necessary, I nonetheless held my tongue and jerked my chin in the direction we were going.
As soon as we reached the main path and the female froze at my side, I realized my mistake.
“Are they all . . . are they all lycans,” she whispered, her shaky voice coming from too far away.
I snatched her wrist and forcefully pulled her into my side. A low growl worked its way up my throat.
Damnation!
The area was crawling with lycans. Males. Everywhere I looked, curious eyes glided past us—only to come snapping back to the female at my side.
Mine! I wanted to roar the word to the sky. Only a lifetime of controlling my emotions let me once more equip my icy mask of disdain and hide the brewing storm.
Not once did I spare the female a glance as I dragged her down the narrow dirt road. Smaller paths wound down between the tall trees surrounding us, leading through the forest and back to various cabins, making this the most direct route to the first gathering circle.
It would take me less than two minutes to change and make my way back to our temporary home, but the girl at my side was not so lucky.
Every time searching eyes got a little too greedy, I curled my lip and bestowed the imbeciles with a frosty glare. It was enough for most males, males who knew who I was and how I fought. Being ruled by cold logic rather than heated emotion had always lent me an upper hand in any confrontation, but at this very moment, I feared my control would snap if someone challenged me for the girl.
She makes you weak.
“Move,” I snapped, pushing a youngster out of the way before he could open his blasted mouth and free the rage biting at my throat.
Surprisingly enough, the little human didn’t say a word. Not even when I dragged her a little too fast, making her shorter legs work overtime in an attempt to keep up. I glanced down at her, frustrated when she didn’t meet my gaze and offer her gratitude for my protection.
Does the chit ever say thank you?
I was beginning to wonder if she even noticed the effort I was putting forth in order not to snap at her stubborn hide. But while she kept her head down and avoided all seeking eyes, she did not pull away. Perhaps she was beginning to trust me?
I dismissed the warmth in my belly as indigestion.
The road finally broadened and the trees became sparser as we neared the first of many gathering circles. Despite being bigger than a soccer field, each area would be cramped in the next few days when the games began. But tonight—during the full moon—they would be nearly empty.
How I envied the wolves that would be hunting when dusk darkened into night; hunting beneath a pregnant moon. Every lycan, regardless of age, heard her impatient call, felt her seductive pull. Even now, hours before the hunt, I had to fight the summon with each step.
“Can we slow down?”
I stopped at the female’s subdued whisper and raked my eyes down her person. “Are you injured?”
“No, I—” She froze. With eyes so wide they looked almost comical, she slowly turned her head and focused on something behind me.
I spun around, prepared to fend off an attack, but there was no immediate threat. I narrowed my eyes and searched each shadow for any hint of danger. Just as I was about to look back and question her, my attention caught on a group of three lycans. I dismissed the first two—too busy arguing about the coming games to be much of a concern—but the third . . .
Average height, average build, I would have dismissed him as inconsequential if not for the speed at which he yanked up his hood, shrouding all features but for a flash of pale skin, a mouth twisted in horror, and a few strands of red curls forcing their way past the hood’s borders like persistent, reckless weeds.
A choked sound from my female wrenched my gaze back where it belonged. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly, her body shook, and as I watched, she raised a hand in welcome and made a move as to approach the other male.
A translucent veil the color of blood sliced into my vision, narrowing my sight into two tiny pinpricks filled only with the soon-to-be-dead lycan.
Before I could intervene—and possibly tear the other male to pieces—he gave a slight shake of his head, a wordless plea forming on his lips.
Hope stilled; simply watched as the other male—a male she obviously knew—slipped into the crowd and disappeared.
Logic flew out the window. Detachment was shackles that no longer bound me. I leapt after the unfamiliar male, anticipation a fire I had no intention of dousing.
He weaved in and out of the crowd, scuttling away like a cockroach fleeing an extermination. But I was not someone he could escape. Prey far more cunning than him had been crushed between my jaws.
A small moan, fearful and choked, halted me mid-stride. I spun around.
My female stood there, among the sea of lycans, alone. Unprotected. Her bottom lip was white, her teeth biting down so hard I had no doubt blood would follow when she released the pressure. She looked . . . utterly vulnerable.
The male’s scent, distilled by all the bodies present, eluded me, the sound of his steps drowning in the noise from the crowd.
In a couple of seconds, he would be gone, and all his knowledge, all his secrets would be gone with him.
Cursing under my breath, I ignored my instinct, ignored what I knew to be wise, and turned back. Here was my chance to discover the truth Hope had kept hidden, unravel the deception of a past she’d refused to reveal—a past that involved another lycan. But instead, I chose to remain. To protect Hope. To ensure she would not be alone and afraid.
Proof—cold, unsettling proof—that she made me weak.
With my heart staggering in an uneven rhythm, I made my way back to the little chit that had quickly become too important.
“Who is he?” I asked, attempting to push back the fury that had descended like a pack of ravenous hyenas.
“W-who?”
I invaded her personal space, ignoring her scent, the way her mouth fell open, the teeth biting down on her bottom lip. “Do not play games with me, woman. Who is he?”
She blanched. “I . . . I don’t know.”
“Do not lie to me!” I roared, startling us both. I never lost my temper. Not like this. Aghast, I could only watch, as if from a distance, as everything I’d fought for, everything I’d become, crumbled under the endless barrage of what it meant to be around Hope.
Savage pain pierced my chest, and I battled through emotions I did not understand, could not remember how
to deal with. Monstrous jealousy, crippling uncertainty, a fury so hot it burned my mind and left a minefield of poisonous ashes in its wake.
The female was an unknown. An obscure entity I had to find a way to control before she destroyed everything that I was.
“I want to go home.” Big brown eyes beseeched me with a glistening sheen of moisture. “Back to the cabin.”
The cabin. Privacy. “Yes. Yes, that is what we should do.” I grabbed her hand and dragged her behind me, the path back relatively easy to follow; I wouldn’t have to worry about her clumsy, human feet stumbling over rocks or getting snared by roots.
“Lucien, please don’t say anything to—”
“Quiet!”
“Lucien—”
Before she could finish her plea, I pulled her off the main road and into the forest, pushing her up against the nearest tree. “I told you to be quiet.”
Her soft breasts pressed against me, each of her heaving breaths a challenge to my control. “W-what are you d-doing?”
“Are you going to tell me who he is?”
A minute shake of her head.
“Why?”
She swallowed hard. “I . . . I need to speak with him—”
“Have you lost your mind?” I snarled, a familiar icy cool spreading through my body as I stared down at the treacherous female. “Have you forgotten who you belong to?”
That got her attention.
“I belong to myself!”
I tilted my head and studied her with the detached coldness I’d feared I’d lost forever. “And your males. Have you forgotten your males?”
She swallowed hard. “O-of course not!”
“Then why would you presume to think you would be allowed to talk to a stranger? A male?” My voice lowered to a hiss as the ice reached my heart. “A male you refuse to name, a male whose allegiance remains unknown!”
A lycan.
Using both hands, she pushed against my chest. When I refused to move, she glared up at me with fire in her eyes. “It’s none of your business!”
“It bloody well is!”
“Why?” Suddenly she stilled. The way she looked at me, part anger, part vulnerability, made me inexplicably furious. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because you are mine!” I snarled and punched the tree above her head. “You are mine!”
The thick trunk dented inward, a few pieces missing where my claws had nicked the stem. I stumbled back and stared at the damage.
It could have been her. I . . . I could have hurt her.
Horror grew from the pit of my black soul and locked me in its cruel grip. This was what loss of control did. This was what emotions did.
Flashes of memory. Of bones breaking, of blood spilling, of the three words that excused it all.
I lowered my gaze from the ruined tree to Hope’s pale yet unmarred face, and my heart ceased beating.
“But . . .” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, swallowing convulsively. “You hate me.”
A violent denial raked bloody furrows down my back.
She’d made me weak. She’d made me vulnerable. She’d made me feel. I should hate her—there were times that I did. And yet, I could not stand for her to believe such a vile thing for a second longer. “I do not hate you.”
“Yes, you do.” Her voice no longer wavered. “You’ve always hated me. From the first moment you saw me and realized how much better you are than me, you’ve hated me.” Her eyes cut to mine, and I knew she did not understand how her words shredded me. “The first thing you said to me . . .” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, said around me, was a comment about how ugly I am.”
My breath stalled as regret swamped. Regret and pain. “I never called you ugly. Never.” Not even I could be that cruel to a lost, injured girl.
“You did!” She bit her lip, presumably to stop the quivering. “And you’ve called me worse.”
When I reached for her, she ducked under my arm and stared at me with such wounded eyes I could barely stand to exist. “Hope . . . You must know by now that—”
“What?” she interrupted with a cry. “I must know what? That you’ve treated me like an enemy from the first moment we met?” She underlined the word ‘enemy’ with a slash of her hand. “That I could never be good enough for someone like you?” A bitter laugh followed, and what was left of my restraint—the last of my walls of ice—crumbled like they’d never been. “I have news for you, Lucien. I’m not good enough for any of you. Especially not Ruarc and Jason.”
“Do not!” I snapped. This time when I reached for her, I was prepared for her attempted escape. Her small hands were easy to clasp with one of mine, and I used the other to tilt her chin up.
Eyes filled with equal parts stubborn challenge and overwhelming pain met mine. “Never let me hear you utter such ridiculous lies again!”
“Not lies, Lucien. In fact, I don’t really blame you for hating me. Not really.” She hung her head. “Everything you’ve said and done has been to protect your family, and how could I blame you for that?”
Her kindness humbled me. Her willingness to understand nearly brought me to my knees. Who was this tiny slip of a girl to make a male as devoid of heart as me crave the kind of warmth only her affection could bring?
I opened my mouth to apologize. “Never speak of yourself with anything less than respect, do I make myself clear?” The female drove me to madness! When she refused to meet my gaze, softer feelings fled in the wake of my remembered anger. “How could you think yourself less than us? What kind of idiotic notion have you gotten into your silly little head?”
The way her mouth rounded in shock made my nostrils flare in search of her sweet, sweet scent. I could only imagine those lips wrapped around—
“Well?” I hissed.
Mutely, she shook her head.
Tension crawled up my spine. Why would she not answer me? “And who is the male? Who?” I snarled and shifted my grip to her shoulders, wanting to shake the answer out of her. Perhaps if I rattled her enough a name would fall from her pretty lips.
“I told you I want to speak to h—”
“That will never happen! Do you hear me? Never!”
I’d gouge his eyes out before I allowed him to so much as look at my female again.
The deafening sound of rushing water pounded through my ears. It grew to a dull roar, and where I had once been protected, I now found myself vulnerable; unable to drive back emotions that had previously bounced off my armor like teeth sliding harmlessly off fur too thick to penetrate.
“Please, Lucien, just give me—”
I released her chin, grabbed her arm, and yanked her into step behind me. A week ago, I would have forced the matter, pulled the truth from the depths of her soul, consequences be damned. But now . . . The thought of seeing her eyes grow dull and lifeless, their spark erased, was one I could not stomach. And despite her deceit, her lies, I could not help but pray there was an explanation for this. That the shock she’d displayed when she laid eyes on the other male meant she had not known he was lycan. That my judgment had not been so compromised as to allow an accomplished liar to seduce our pack.
“You’d do best to be quiet now, female,” I hissed, knowing any threat I made would be an empty one. Never again would I allow anything to steal the life from her soulful eyes. “Unless you wish to tell me about the male.”
I would have her trust, her secrets, everything that she was. And though the vulnerable female would never have my deadened heart, by god, I’d have hers.
24
Hope
Matthew.
Matthew.
Matthew was . . . alive?
Two hours later, the shock of seeing him had still not receded. While Lucien paced from the kitchen through the living room and down the hall past all the bedrooms, I sat on the couch and tried to make sense of this new reality.
My world had tilted. Up was down and down was up and sideways was the new normal.
&nb
sp; Matthew.
My head felt heavy, my mouth dry, my pulse jumped to its own, irregular beat.
How was he alive? What was he doing at the Assembly? Why had he mouthed ‘please’ while shaking his head and looking as pale as a corpse freshly risen from the grave?
So many questions. They rattled around in my brain, occasionally branding a word or two behind my eyes—words like ‘lycan’ and ‘escaped’—before disappearing back into the abyss.
The couch felt abrasive beneath my clenched hands. Or maybe my skin was just raw. I squeezed the cushion until my knuckles turned white, until my fingers tingled and my nails ached from the pressure.
Pressure that also surrounded my head like a bubble ready to burst.
Matthew had died. I’d watched him die. I’d watched him being beaten to death for a crime I’d committed.
I shook my head and tried to focus despite my turmoil.
Matthew was alive.
The breath caught in my throat.
He’d found a way to escape.
My pulse fluttered.
I hadn’t gotten him killed.
Something in my chest tightened, loosened; my heart gave a massive thump.
Matthew was alive, and I owed him more than I could ever repay. Not just my freedom, but my life. And my sanity, for had I been forced to endure another punishment that day, I’d have shattered into a million pieces.
* * *
The Hunter Compound - Several Months Ago
Matthew hadn’t been fed in days. Or had it been weeks? His naked chest had hollowed out, his ribs strained against skin covered in bruises, cuts, and burns.
He was dying.
We were all dying.
Or maybe we were dead and just didn’t know it yet.
I grabbed two of the bars to my cell and tried to squeeze my face close enough that I could see up and down the narrow, snaking corridor.
No guards. Barely any light.
I reached behind me to the lone piece of bread I’d been given. It folded beneath my tight grip, and I forced my hand to relax. To stop clutching it. He needed it more than me.
