by Woods, Erica
Grief over what he’d endured forced my eyes shut. I couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to. He brought it all back. Memories I’d tried so hard to suppress; the guilt that had nearly killed me. Witnessing his unease, the nervous energy coursing through him, the way he struggled to stand still . . . It intensified my guilt and reminded me how very broken we both were.
Seeing him again . . . it brought it all back.
Everything.
Flashes of cutting metal. Cold unforgiving steel. Restraints that dug into shredded skin while I screamed and screamed and screamed.
The images wouldn’t stop. They erupted like a Hunter provoked past the limits of his temper, searing into my brain with each, agonizing second. As soon as one disappeared, another one, a worse one, took its place, like a carousel of torture; a dance of agony.
While my pulse raced and my head swam, I tried to breathe. Tried to fight off the lump blocking my throat and the vice restricting my lungs, but it wasn’t until black spots danced in my vision and I mentally reached out to the guys that I felt a flicker of calm. Imagining them; Ash’s soothing voice, Lucien’s cool but steady gaze, Ruarc’s protective fury, and Jason’s charming grin . . . They brought me back. Helped me push the panic down until I could once more focus on Matthew and answer his question without vomiting bile all over my tree.
“Yes,” I said, and if he noticed my ragged breathing, the quiver in my voice, he was kind enough not to mention it. “That’s me. After I . . . after I escaped, they found me. Took care of me. I can’t believe they’re lycans, and that you are too! How on earth were you captured? And how did you get free? Where have you been—Does your pack know what happened to you?” Once I started talking, I couldn’t stop. The questions came pouring out, one after the other. There was so much I didn’t understand, so many things only he could shed light on.
But what I really wanted to ask, what I truly ached to know was why? Why hadn’t he gotten help? Why hadn’t he come back for us? Why had he left us there when he knew the torment we suffered? The torment I suffered.
And what have you done, Hope?
In that moment, I wished I were a lycan just so I could change into a wolf, slink away, and tuck my tail between my legs.
How could I sit here and judge Matthew for leaving us when I hadn’t lifted a finger to help those that remained?
My cheeks burned, and I dropped my gaze.
I’m going to fix it. I will!
I’d already decided to ask the Council for help, but if they said no . . . then what?
“Not here,” Matthew said, voice high and thin. His eyes rolled around in his head, darting this way then that, like he expected an enemy to form from the shadows and attack. “Tonight. We can talk tonight.”
“Tonight? No, I need—”
“I can’t, Hope. Please don’t . . .” He swallowed hard, the fingers on his right hand twitching as he craned his neck, looking over his shoulder. “Don’t make me. Not here.”
“I . . .” My tongue lay thick and useless in my mouth, and as I stared down at the man who’d let himself be tortured to spare me, took in the tendons straining in his neck, the way his throat bobbed with every heavy swallow, my eyes burned. He might have answers I craved with every fiber of my being, but I couldn’t deny his plea. “Where?”
“The stage,” he said quickly. “Where the Council greeted us? No one will be there.”
It was quite far from the cabin I shared with the guys, at least a fifteen minute walk. I couldn’t sneak away; they’d notice the second I was gone. “The stage? I don’t know if I can—”
“It’s the only way,” he interrupted. He threw another quick look over one shoulder, shifted nervously from foot to foot, and finally met my gaze. His pupils looked blown, the thin blue line around them almost drowned in black. “If you’re not there . . . if you’re not there, we can never talk again.”
Never?
“Why?” I cried, edging away from the trunk. “Are you okay? Is someone hurting you? I can help you, Matthew!” I had to get down, had to find a way to convince him to let me help. I owed him. But before I could get a foothold, he started backing away.
“My alpha—he’s near. I can’t let him know. He can never know, Hope. Do you understand? Never! He’d kill me.”
“He’d kill you? But why? I . . . I don’t understand!” I kept my eyes glued to him, but didn’t follow. I’d never do anything to put him in harm’s way. Not again.
“The Hunters!” he hissed, backing away. “If anyone knew . . .”
If anyone knew what?
My stomach churned, a horrible possibility I didn’t want to consider burrowing into my brain.
“Matthew, I . . . I have to tell the guys. Tell them everything. I wanted to talk to you first, but they . . . they deserve to know.”
He came to an abrupt stop at the edge of the clearing. “You can’t!”
“I have—”
“Y-you owe me.” Matthew bent his neck and let red curls hide his eyes. Despite the distance between us, I saw him shrink, saw him cringe, and I knew the reminder had cost him.
My throat tightened.
I’d done that. Me. And still, I was torn. Loyalty to the men I loved warred with loyalty to the man who’d been willing to die so I could live.
“Just . . .” One of his hands drew up and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Hear what I have to say. If you still want to tell them . . .” A sharp laugh hacked from his lungs; it sounded strangely like a moan. “Then I won’t stop you.”
A couple more hours. I could do that, couldn’t I? And then it would be all over. I’d tell them and . . . I’d lose them.
“Okay,” I croaked. “I’ll be there. Just give me the time.”
“Midnight,” he said, and with one last, long look—a flash of something dim and despondent in his eyes—he left.
“Midnight,” I repeated on a whisper. “I can do that.”
But how I would, I had no idea.
54
Ruarc
Could just kill Lucien.
He left our female alone!
I jumped over a fallen tree and snarled at a lycan lurking behind an overgrown bush. He yelped, then darted away.
Good, I thought with another snarl. Hope was in danger. Alone. Unprotected. And all because of that damned Vern.
Thunder rumbled up my chest and spilled out in a warning everyone in this goddamned forest better take seriously. Anyone went near my female and they’d fucking die.
“Fucking Lucien.” I slashed at a low-hanging branch, begrudgingly admitting he’d done the right thing. Subjecting Hope to one of the Council’s most dangerous males would have ended in heads rolling. Council heads, if that bastard had so much as touched a single hair on my female’s head.
I ran faster, gritted my teeth against the ice frosting my veins. According to Lucien, there’d been nothing casual about Vern’s interest. Nothing innocent about the way he’d watched my brother and searched the surrounding forest.
He’d been looking for something. Or someone.
If he wants our female he better be prepared to die!
I cursed my pack mate for not finding me sooner. His excuse—Vern sticking too close and being too curious—made no difference to me at all. Should’ve found a way, dammit it!
Ragged, choking fear whipped my erratic pulse into a roar. It tightened my throat, pummeled my lungs until they ached, consumed and devoured.
And provoked.
Claws shot from my rigid fingers. Fangs descended and ripped at flesh.
A surge of fury swelled in a red-hot wave, tearing up a violent howl that scattered birds and triggered the flight of a nearby male.
‘Least I was no longer suffocating.
As I raced through the forest, dodging low-hanging branches and the occasional root sticking up from the underbrush, only one thought mattered.
Hope.
Had to find her. Now. Before anyone else did.
When I came to a slo
w-trickling river, I lifted my nose to the sky and inhaled.
Blood.
My hands flexed.
Faded, but evident.
My chest heaved.
They crossed here.
My fangs elongated and my jaw lengthened to make room for the weapons growing in my mouth. Lucien had warned me there was blood near her. Male blood. Blood of the soon-to-be-dead lithbhárs that had tried to hurt her.
I followed the trail; not the fresher tracks—those were for later—but the older ones. The ones that would lead to the area Lucien had hidden our female.
Less than a minute later, the ground bore streaks of dark red—evidence of Lucien’s retribution.
Wasn’t nearly enough.
A little farther, and there was the clearing; pieces of grass and dirt drenched in blood, the air permeated by the stench of male fear and female terror.
The latter had my teeth snap together with a snarl.
They would die!
“Ruarc?” The soft, feminine whisper was tinged with fear.
I whipped around, my gaze unerringly finding her slight frame. Straddling a joke of a branch with trembling hands and wide, frightened eyes, she was at least fifteen feet in the air.
My mouth went dry, my hands shook. Tried to speak, but wasn’t until she wriggled, the branch swaying dizzily, that I found my fucking voice. “Stop!” Lucien would never have left her on a branch that thin. Was she on the way down? By herself? “What the hell are you doing? Were told to wait!”
Her lip quivered. “I was worried. It’s been so long—”
“Shouldn’t have been here in the first place!” I marched to her tree and jumped. Two seconds later, the claws on my right hand were buried into the thick trunk just below my shivering little female, my free hand extended. “Take my hand.”
Her gaze searched my face, and I made an attempt to soften my expression. Could do nothing about the ugly scar or my harsh features, but could ease up on my scowl.
Her brows furrowed.
Maybe not.
“Are you mad at me?”
She hesitantly placed her hand in mine, and I wasted no time yanking her to my chest. Her startled cry was ignored, and only when I was safe on the ground did I allow myself a moment to breathe her in. Reassure myself she was safe.
I dragged in another ragged breath, nose traveling from her fragile collarbone and up her delectable neck. The sweet scent of warm, enticing female—Hope’s special blend of heat and innocence and home—worked to slow my racing heart.
Briefly.
“Yes.” I squeezed her to me, the tight knot in my stomach loosening a fraction when she wrapped her thin arms around my neck and clung to me like a spider monkey. “But still love you,” I added, not wanting that to ever be in doubt.
“I love you, too,” she mumbled into my neck, voice thick with unshed tears.
Unacceptable.
“Don’t,” I groaned, stroking her back, nuzzling the side of her face. My chest started vibrating with the steady thrum of my mating rumble. A sound meant only for a mate.
Hope’s head shot up, wide eyes intently searching my face. “You’re that mad?”
“Am mad,” I confirmed. The word was too tame, too little to describe the sharp, roaring pressure about to split me down the middle.
Was furious. Livid. Outraged.
Fucking terrified!
“You’re . . . growling at me?”
Was a question. She must’ve sensed the difference between this and the similar sound I emitted on a much larger scale when I was warning off other males or inviting a challenge.
“No. Rumbling. To soothe.” My fingers tightened in her hair, and I tipped her head back. Her scent made my mouth water, her nearness slowly chewed off the fear gnawing at my insides. “Only for you, mo chridhe.” Her eyes grew larger, the pupil dilating; I leaned in and nipped at her lip. “Even when you deserve punishment.”
“P-punishment?”
I cocked my head. There was something in her tone, something unsure but intrigued. It pulled at me. “Yes,” I murmured, lost in the brilliant pools of her eyes. “Punishment.”
Her breathing grew choppy, lips parting, but when she leaned forward for a kiss, everything snapped back in place. My fury. My worry. My fucking terror.
And instead of kissing her, I growled low in my throat. “Should spank your ass!”
She flinched. Paled. Hunched her shoulders and averted her gaze.
Could’ve kicked myself.
“Hope—”
“I’m sorry!” she blurted, scent devoid of fear but tight with something else. Something bitter. “I’m . . . I’m so sorry.”
This female will be the death of me.
I groaned and pulled her closer. She remained stiff when my arms tightened around her, refused to look at me when I tipped her chin up, pressed her quivering lips together when I kissed the top of her head.
“Look at me, mo chridhe.”
She sniffed, but otherwise remained stubbornly still.
Cursing, I leaned down until our foreheads touched. “Would never hurt you.” My voice came out too gruff. Almost harsh. “You’re my heart.” I placed her hand over the organ that belonged solely to her and took her lips in a gentle kiss.
Finally, fucking finally, she melted into me. Hungry. Needy. Almost frantic in the way she pulled at me.
A shuddering breath puffed from her mouth and into mine, and I swallowed her grief, her desolation, her anguish, not understanding her emotions but tasting them, making them mine, claiming her in any way I could.
Didn’t like her desperation. Didn’t like the way she clung to me; like it was the last time.
Would never be the last time. Even in death, my soul would cling to hers, following into the next life and claiming whatever body best suited to keep her safe.
She. Was. Mine.
I poured all my determination, all my frustration; my obsession, my need, my furious hunger into the kiss, and she stilled.
“I know.” Two words. Two simple words whispered against my lips.
“You know what?” I growled back.
“That you’d never hurt me. You’re . . . honorable. Kind. You’d never hurt someone you loved.”
“Never,” I swore, frowning when, instead of smiling, she jerked her head up and down in a broken nod and squeezed her eyes shut. “Hope.”
They popped back open and she smiled, tremulous and watery—not an expression of happiness but a lie.
I fucking hated it.
A growl burning in my chest. I forced it down. “What—” Came out clipped. Chased by snarls. Tried again. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything. Nothing.” She slapped at her eyes, freezing when I caught her wrists in one hand with a scowl. “God, I’m a mess.”
“My mess.” I kissed her hands, but didn’t release them. Not yet. Didn’t trust she’d keep them away from her vulnerable face. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
“This whole day. I just want it to be done.”
The second the words were out of her mouth, she blanched. Pale and drawn, her eyes were pinched, mouth a miserable, quivering line.
And I had no fucking clue why. “We’ll go home.” Back to the cabin. Where I could protect her. Keep her safe. Cover her in fucking bubble wrap and never again let her out of my sight.
She nodded. “Is the game over?”
“It is for you.”
Reluctantly, I lowered her to the ground and took hold of her hand. “Let’s go.”
The walk back was murder on my sanity. Glaring at shadows, baring my teeth when I caught the scent of another lycan, snarling when I heard one moving too close. And this fucking fear . . . Would I ever be rid of it?
Could pretend all I wanted, but the fact no one had found Hope, no one had caught her scent—not a single seeker, not a single alpha—had my blood run cold.
Couldn’t care less if she was different; would love her no matter what. But different could be dangerous,
and a human who could hide from lycans?
Could be seen as a threat.
My chest tightened, and I released the tension in a menacing growl.
“R-Ruarc?”
The timid query had me grit my teeth and stare straight ahead. Couldn’t spare her as much as a look. If the vulnerability in her voice showed on her expressive face, I’d fucking lose it.
Something’s not right.
Not just with her scent, but with the Council. With Vern. And with my little female. “Everything’s fine.”
“It doesn’t sound fine,” she said.
No, it sure as shit didn’t . . . But it would be. I’d make sure of it.
I dragged her closer to my side and glared at every tree, every bush, every rock and root and pebble on the ground. Nothing would harm her while I was around.
Not a goddamned thing.
55
Hope
Ruarc remained alert and on guard the whole way back to the count. He refused to let go of my hand, and every now and again that deep, throbbing rumble would spill from his wide chest and singe me with its heat.
That sound . . .
It raised the hairs on my neck, fired shivers up my spine, made my skin so sensitive even the touch of the air made something inside me clench.
How would I survive without this? Without him?
Swallowing through the sharp lump in my throat, I threw a quick peek up at that scarred, handsome face.
Set jaw. Compressed lips. Narrowed eyes that all but dared our surroundings to produce an enemy for him to conquer.
Even with that dark scowl, he was infinitely appealing. So strong. So fierce. So . . . Ruarc.
As though he’d felt my eyes on him, his gaze whipped to mine. A flash of surprise, slashing brows shaping a frown, then Ruarc slowed his pace. “What’re you thinking, mo chridhe?”
“N-nothing.”
His gaze remained heavy. Considering. “We’ll talk tonight.”
Tonight . . .
It took all my effort not to flinch. Tonight I’d have to find a way to sneak out, deceiving my guys yet again and breaking their trust.
