Rogue Breed (Rogue Huntress Chronicles Book 2)

by Thea Atkinson

  "I need you to question him," I said. "The assailant. I need you to get all the information he has even if you have to go sit through every admission from pissing the bed to jerking off in the shower."

  He cocked his brow but said nothing. I imagined he thought I'd gone off, and he'd be right. I would never take a chance with my brother's life again.

  "And I'm going back home. I need to be sure he's okay."

  This time, Jeb did speak. "No," he said. "Best you stay here. If it's just simply to check on Lynden, then Olanna can go," he said.

  "But I need to see for myself."

  He shook his head. "Your instincts are right about one thing: something is wrong here. This is where the danger is. You promised to protect these women. You need to keep it." He fidgeted, which was odd for him. He never showed anxiety, something was more wrong than it seemed.

  "What else?" I said.

  "I have a couple of contacts that might help me. Those marks of his..." he trailed off, not needing to say how much they worried him. They worried me too. "Maybe I can get us some answers.""We have a man out there right now who can give us answers." I waved my hand toward the house as I thought of the slack look of that man's mouth as I'd knocked him out. My nose twitched because I knew it might be a few hours before he was useful. Still, I pressed on. "Getting answers is your specialty."

  He toed the dirt. "It was two weeks, Shana," he said. "Besides, the guy won't talk. I'm experienced enough to know that. He'll die before he tells you anything."

  "He's going to die anyway." I shrugged. I didn't care. Not really.

  "Exactly the point," he said. "You think he'll confess if knows you're going to kill him anyway?"

  "Then make him believe we won't."

  He shook his head and the smell of licorice wafted over the breeze as he moved. "You make him believe it. I'm going."

  I caught a subtle movement from Olanna's direction and realized I'd forgotten she was there. No doubt she felt uncomfortable discussing a man's death so casually. I looked her over. "I'm not going to kill him right away," I said, thinking it was what she needed to her. She looked at her shoes.

  Jeb patted her leg. "Don't get all worked up, Olanna. She doesn't mean she's going to torture him for days either." He winked at me. "Just overnight or so."

  His sister gripped the edges of the bench. "Please, Jeb."

  "I'm joking," he murmured then turned that blue eyed gaze to me. "He's trussed up pretty good," Jeb said. "You're in no danger. Not at the moment, but the longer I delay, the more chance you have of being run over again when his comrades realize they haven't returned. Just let me go. Do with him what you want. Get any information you can, and I'll get what I can. Teamwork. Broaden the network."

  "I don't want you to go." I felt vulnerable saying it, but thankfully he didn't patronize me or make a big deal of my admission. He knew as well as I did what that the confession cost me.

  "Just two days at most," he said. "You're an experienced assassin. What did you do before me?"

  I felt a brief grin twitched at the corner of my mouth. "I kicked ass," I said, knowing damn well I'd been free to do so because someone else--my father--called the shots and all I'd had to do was follow orders. There was a certain liberation in just following orders. Now it was me who issued them. I exhaled slowly, taking in the way he stood as though he was ready to tear off right that moment. Such a hurry to get moving, find the threat, neutralize it. We were a perfect match.

  "Okay. Go." I pulled him close and breathed in his scent. He was losing the wolf smell too and I was almost sad to see it go. I caught Olanna's eye over his shoulder. "You too," I said. "Make sure Lynden is alright."

  They both gave mirrored brief nods. I watched the way they moved as they stretched and shook out their limbs and thought how very much alike they were. I was lucky to have them with me, and despite the mistrust of most of the wolves in my pack, I knew they would eventually win even the likes of Jennifer over before long. We said nothing as we returned to the house. I knew we were all heavy-minded about the tasks ahead of us. I took care not to kiss Jeb openly in front of Jennifer and the huntsman as he prepared to take his leave, pulling that backpack over his shoulder and jamming a pistol into his jeans.

  I was turning away to return to the bedroom when he snagged my elbow and pulled me close. His kiss was long and demanding and I thought I heard Olanna chuckle beneath her breath, even Jennifer whistled low in her throat. When Jeb released me, I was almost dizzy with desire. Even under the circumstances, my beast was drenched with lust for him. It wasn't easy, this lust, and I flashed a peek at Jennifer on her chair. She was sitting upright and rigid. Frank appraisal rode her features. I let go a shuddered exhale and patted Jeb's arm.

  "Do what you have to and get back here."

  He saluted me and spun on his heel then turned back again as if he'd forgotten something.

  "Do yourself a favor," he said. "Just kill the man. Save the girls some trauma."

  I couldn't meet Jennifer's eye again after both Olanna and Jeb left me. Instead, I headed down to the bedroom to check on the girl. Rena hovered over her with concern weighing down her shoulders.

  "She has a fever," Rena said. "High. Too high. The ibuprofen isn't working."

  "Can you give her something?" I wanted the girl alive and aware enough to satisfy my worry Lynden wasn't in danger. After that, if we were lucky, she might give us answers to why she was so important that a band of hunters came into my territory to hunt her down. After that, I'd worry for her welfare.

  Rena soaked a cloth in a basin of water that sat on the table next to the bed, then wrung it out. "I have some antibiotics in the rare case it's an infection, but if she's allergic..."

  "How many shifters do you know who are allergic?" I said. "That's human thinking. Infection, I understand, but if it was that, the ibuprofen would help the fever, don't you think?"

  I leaned over the girl, studying her face. Her features were delicate, like a flower that didn't get enough sun. "I say we take our chances with whatever means we have."

  "One more thing," Rena said, lifting the girl's wrist and holding it up for me. "Feel it," she told me.

  I wrapped my fingers around the pulse. "Like a scared rabbit," I said. That wasn't right. Not even remotely so. I peered up at Rena with what I knew was astonishment and fully expected to see the same emotion across her features.

  "Exactly," she said in just the way I would have expected her to. "That's way too fast even for us."

  NOT ALL CARTOONS ARE FUNNY

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. I had sworn to protect those who came to Dara's land as well as my own pack. How could I protect what I didn't understand?

  "Maybe Jeb was right. Maybe we need to ask around," I said, musing as Rena sopped at the girl's forehead.

  "He's gone, then?" Rena said and I nodded.

  "He has some contacts that might be able to help."

  "Any help is welcome," she said. "Cause this pup isn't talking."

  I hadn't wanted Jeb to go, but I knew he was right. Deep down in my gut, I knew something was wrong even if it had nothing to do with my younger brother. I couldn't shake the sense of uneasiness that pressed around me the way I felt when enclosed in small confined spaces. I felt as though a shadow followed me everywhere throughout Dara's cottage. Even the other she-wolves were silent as they settled into their normal chores. The huntsman had been dragged off to the back chicken coop and locked in there, making the house look as if nothing had gone wrong inside. Normal life picked up where it had left off, and I wondered at the tenacity of these women, so used to violence it seemed, that they could continue living as though violence was the norm and nothing unnatural had occurred.

  Some of she-wolves had struck up a conversation in the chairs next to the bookshelves and others had begun putting together a meal. I could smell the savoury taste of lamb and rosemary searing on the stove, see the plumes of smoke and steam that rose from the frying pans. Normally, my stomach wo
uld growl in anticipation. All it did now was roil around in uneasiness. I wouldn't feel better until either Jeb or his sister got back to me with the news.

  It was nightfall before Olanna returned. She came into the room with a sort of sheepish grin as a rather bristling male shifter trailed in behind her. I recognized him as the hired hand Gerald had trailing his every step after Caleb's near successful coup and at first, I bristled as much as he did. I had spent a century handling human hunters, surely, I could be trusted to do so now. Then I realized the concern hadn't been my abilities or lack of them to lead, but Olanna's humanity. Its return would be seen as weakness and whoever had ordered her guard had known that.

  "Lynden wouldn't let me leave without him," she said with a shrug, explaining to me not just the who, but the why as well. No doubt their time in captivity together had bonded them in ways I would never understand. It almost felt at times like she was more sisterly to him than I was.

  "So he's fine then," I said.

  "He is."

  "Did you tell him what was going on here?"

  She hung her head. I knew from her demeanor she didn't want to hurt the boy or make him worry about me and had no doubt avoided saying anything that might frighten him.

  "It's okay," I said, "You did the right thing. I don't want him to worry either." I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to decide if anything more could be done. The hunter was still out cold and we were all tired. I put the bristling guard on the huntsman in the hope the rest of the women would sleep. He had orders to wake me when the hunter did.

  In the end, I gathered up a bowl of stew and marched myself toward the rogue's bedroom. I would lie down on the floor next to her if I needed to, but I would be there when she woke up. Rena obviously sensed my determination when I barged through the door. She gave me a frank look of expectation.

  "I made you up a spot there," she said, pointing to an air mattress and a pile of sheets. "If you're determined to stay, you might as well be comfortable. And helpful." She walked across the room, carrying the same wet cloth she had been bathing the girl's forehead with since I'd seen her last.

  I'm exhausted," she said and laid the wet material over my forearm. "You take your turn. I'm going to go eat and then I'm going to sleep."

  I certainly didn't want to be left alone with the girl. I was a fighter, not a healer. But I took one look at the way Rena's eyes were watering and knew she needed a break.

  "Any special instructions?"

  "Don't let her die," she said with a shrug and I couldn't help smiling at her.

  "I can't make any promises."

  Rena rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand. "The fever has broke but her pulse is still fast. I'm beginning to think it's normal."

  "Normal in this case would be abnormal," I said.

  "Nothing's normal here," Rena said flicking the wet towel over her shoulder. "Live on this property long enough, and you begin to see exactly how unusual the day can get."

  I knew she said it to make me feel better about the events that had occurred, but I also knew she wanted to let me know, in her own way, exactly what kind of histories these women suffered. It was a reminder of my pledge, and I wondered if Rena had somehow picked up on my reluctance to aid the girl after I got what I needed.

  I settled down on the air mattress facing the girl and watched her chest rise and fall in rhythm. Rena had left on a lamp next to the bedside and it cast a faint light over the girl's cheeks. There was something familiar about her, something I couldn't quite place. It only lent to the uneasiness that tingled down my back. I ended up blaming that uneasiness for the nightmares that plagued my next hours of sleep.

  In them, I was suspended over vats of seething water ionized with silver. I perched on a swing suspended over it, being systematically lowered in a way that might have been cartoonish if I wasn't so terrified. My heart beat hard enough that I could hear it in my ears and I got that sick sense that I couldn't breathe. Laughter kept sounding somewhere in the periphery. A cloaked voice on its heels telling me I wasn't good enough. I wasn't strong enough. I never would be.

  From out of nowhere came a silver blade slashed into my cheek.

  I came awake drenched in sweat.

  I might have felt the intense relief that one feels when one comes to and realizes that all of the terror was just a dream except I had flipped over in my slumber, and as my eyes snapped open in the pale lamplight, I could see a figure standing next to the air mattress, looming over me.

  The rogue wolf stood over me, knife in her hand.

  She didn't looked at all sickly.

  THE ABHORENCE OF MALFORMATION

  My reflexes have always been good even when awakened from a dead sleep. Growing up as a youth under Galen's rigorous training I always assumed I would wake in danger. It was a common thing to wake to a scorpion dangled over my face, a Molotov cocktail that burned away next to my ear, or a knife to my throat with the point just digging in enough that an aggressive knee jerk reaction would mean the spilling of my blood. I got used to him creeping into my room in the early hours when I was the most comatose and springing onto my bed in full wolf form. My father encouraged it, and in their way, the events might have been abusive except I'd begged for the training, knowing it would be rigorous and frightening. He'd always been impressed by my quick reflexes and assumed his training was either terribly effective or I was a quick learner. For all that, it wasn't Galen's sessions that had me waking fully alert and ready in my adulthood.

  No. I'd put in my time long before I began training with Galen. I'd already spent countless hours soaked in dread, knowing at any moment I could be called to practice, long before I begged my father to let me train with the veteran assassin who wanted to spend his twilight years in the garden. Those early morning frights were nothing to the multitude of hours I spent learning control and pain management during my mother's own tenure of warped training sessions.

  So by the time I knew anyone was standing over me, I had already assessed the threat and was ready to leap into action the moment my eyes snapped open. I was already kicking for the feet, sweeping with my knee sideways to take her legs out from under her so she would collapse onto the mattress. I would have her then, her with her deformed foot and awkward gait. She'd never manage to find her footing long enough to lunge at me with the blade.

  I was wrong. Even as my calves connected with her shins, she threw the knife with enough force over my head that she fell forward onto me before I even had a chance to finish sweeping her legs from beneath her. I heard the dull thud of it contacting something and I knew from the experience of hearing the sound that it had not landed in the wall. It had landed into flesh.

  I felt my gorge rise as I thought she might struck have either Jeb or Rena or one of the other she-wolves under my protection coming into the room to check on her. In a flash, I was out from beneath her and scrambling to my feet to aid the poor victim or stop the scrawny little deformed wolf from doing more harm to one of my own.

  Wrong again. The victim she had struck with the knife had already collapsed onto her legs and had rolled onto her enough to pin her to the mattress. My core sort of sagged gratefully when I realized it was none of the worst-case scenarios that I had envisioned. Beneath the pathetic shifter, bleeding all over the sheets, was the huntsman we had trussed up so perfectly. He no longer wore the mask or his vested armor, but he wore the combat fatigues he'd entered the property in and he lay slumped on his side with the knife protruding from the middle of his torso. A good, solid strike. I would have been impressed if I hadn't been so damned confused.

  "What the hell are you doing?" I demanded of the girl.

  She went limp beneath the man's weight, no fight left in her. I reached for her outstretched hand and drug her out from beneath him. She looked up at me with truly sorrowful eyes in the lamplight and I almost melted from shame.

  "I'm sorry," I said to her, all the while trying to take in the almost remarkable recovery. "But I thought
–"

  "You thought I was going to kill you?" she said.

  I fell onto the edge of her bed. "I assume everyone is planning to kill me," I said feeling for my cheek with tentative fingers. Nothing. Not on the other side either. I looked at her as my fingers probed my skin, half expecting to feel a cut gouged into my face. She gave me back a baleful stare that all but screamed innocence.

  The dream had been vivid. Too vivid even for a nightmare.

  I pushed myself to my feet and snagged her elbow, pulling her with me.

  "I'm glad you're awake," I said, dragging her from the room and out into the dining area where the bookcases lined the walls.

  I pushed her into one of the larger chairs.

  "You stay there," I said. "I'll be right back. You've got a hell of a lot of explaining to do."

  I had to get the rest of the women up. There was no way that hunter had freed himself from those bonds. I had tested them myself. He had to have help, and that could only mean another one of his damned comrades was still loose on the property.

  I dashed for Rena's room first, knowing the warrior in her would outstrip the healer. I barged in the door without knocking and was pulling her from her bed and throwing shoes at her. I didn't need to explain or ask, she was on her feet in seconds. And together we ran the cottage from room to room, pulling the women out in their various states of undress and dress to the dining room. Olanna fisted both hands into bleary eyes, blinking with exhaustion. I felt sorry for her. The wolf in her was retreating from her blood as the virus began its final flush of her system, leaving her weak as a human. Then I noticed the burly and bristling guard hovering nearby in a flushed state but by now looking sheepish. He should look sheepish and not because he and Olanna had found a past time other than sleeping.