by Laken Cane
Roma glared. “I can be here. I just can’t fight. Yet.” She held her slingshot in her bandaged hand and shook it at all of them. “I have Jaclyn, and I can be here.”
No one said a word.
“Watch,” she said, going to stand beside the assassin, as though he might somehow force Rune to allow her inside the gates of Wormwood. She loaded a stone into the slingshot and then turned and gave the weapon a hard shake. The stone flew into the air, then dropped harmlessly to the ground. But if an enemy had stood there, he’d have quickly become a dead enemy. “See?” Roma said. “If I’m attacked, I can defend myself.”
She waited, hopeful, smiling.
Jack got Rune’s attention. “I’ll watch her,” he mouthed.
And Rune didn’t have the heart to refuse her.
“I cried on the mountain, Rune. You heard me, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, baby.”
“I didn’t cry because I was afraid. I cried because I failed. Because I failed you.”
“You didn’t fail anyone.”
“Also, I cried because I was so damn hungry…”
They stomped into Wormwood, eager to lose themselves in the fight.
Rune shot out her claws and whirled to face the attacking humans, knowing the crow was there if she needed her, but she felt like stretching her legs, not her wings.
After what they’d been through, some armed humans really didn’t seem like a big threat, and they weren’t, at least not to her.
But they had guns, and guns were always going to be dangerous to the humans in her crew.
All she could do was try her damnedest to take out the shooters before they hit something a vest or beanie would not protect.
It was through the spray of bullets, the flash of silver blades, and the screams of the injured that Rune saw the berserker.
He stood watching her, unmoving, so still it was almost like he wasn’t really there. She ran her claws through a human’s shoulder, causing him to drop his gun and run screaming away from her, and when she turned back to look, the berserker hadn’t moved.
She was taken by him, by his stillness, his solemnity, his quietness.
They stared at each other until a bullet whizzed by a little too close to her ear. She glanced around, then started to walk toward him.
When she was a few yards away from him, she withdrew her claws and stopped walking, standing still to watch him as he watched her.
Something was happening, but she couldn’t have said what. The fight continued on around them, but her crew kept the humans occupied.
It didn’t matter.
They were the monster and the berserker, and they were not concerned with the pesky little battle.
Rune scratched at an itchy trail of blood on her cheek, not taking her stare off him. “Strad,” she murmured, finally. “What?”
“I didn’t want to do this here,” he said, his voice deep, low, and caressing. “But I see you and… I can’t breathe when I look at you, Rune.” He gestured at the death and fighting surrounding them. “And this is who we are.”
“Strad,” she whispered, then, “Behind you.”
He turned immediately, yanked a shotgun from the tight grip of a human, punched the man in the face, then dropped the gun and turned back to her.
She took another step closer to him, but said nothing. Her mouth was too dry, and her heart beat too fast.
They would never do things like normal people, because they were not normal people. They just weren’t.
But some things never changed, no matter who a man was, and no matter who a woman was.
Strad walked the rest of the way to her, and just before he reached her, he dropped to a knee.
His truth was in his eyes when he stared up at her, his face, maybe for the first time since she’d known him, completely open. “You’re my heart. My world. My love.”
“Berserker,” she murmured.
“There’s never going to be a moment when I deserve you,” he continued. “But I will never stop trying. I will never,” he repeated, fiercely, “stop trying.”
He pulled a small box from his pocket, then opened it. The stone of the ring glittered and sparkled like it held the light of a thousand suns.
“Z’s ring,” she whispered. He’d had his ring and Z’s ring twisted into one magnificent offering. For her.
“It took me a long time to get this right,” he said. And then he was no longer talking about the ring, exactly. “I swear I won’t fuck it up.”
She fell to her knees and wrapped her fingers around his wrists. “Ask,” she whispered.
He took a deep, shuddery breath. “Rune Alexander,” he murmured. “Will you marry me?”
Rune realized suddenly that the fight had ended and her crew had gathered around her and the berserker, quiet and somber.
She looked at them, her gaze touching on each one, her heart overflowing. Then she spotted the ghoul, standing a little apart, his fluffy black hair stirring in the breeze, his eyes dark, his face unflinching.
He gave her a nod, and then, he smiled.
She could not help but smile back.
And then, she met Strad’s stare. “Yes,” she said. “Yes.”
He closed his eyes in a long, slow blink. Finally, he wiped bloody tears from her face, slid the ring onto her finger, and drew her into his arms.
“Woohoo,” Roma shrieked. “Princess Rune Berserker, everybody! Princess the fuck Rune Berserker!”
With her crew’s laughter ringing through the air, Rune wrapped her arms around her berserker’s neck. “Kiss me, Strad, and let’s go home.”
He did not hesitate.
And at last, when she could breathe again, she took a long, lingering look around the graveyard.
I am my monster.
My monster is me.
Then she waved goodbye to Gunnar the Ghoul and walked with her berserker and her crew out of Wormwood.
Secondary Character List
A couple of you have asked for a secondary character list of characters you may have trouble remembering:
Dawn—Gunnar the Ghoul’s ghoul friend.
Aly—Nurse from the Annex, Rune’s favorite of Kader’s nurses.
Logan Rees--Elizabeth's replacement. Works with Bill.
The little black-haired baby—We met—and lost—her in New Regime. Rune never stopped searching for this child. Strad promised he'd find her for Rune, and in Kill Switch, he kept that promise.
Ben—The boy in Shadows Past. If you haven't read Shadows Past, the Rune Alexander short, it'd be helpful to you to read it before Chasing Darkness.
Leon Lafitte—Rune talked to him in prison in Obsidian Wings. She needed him to convince the love of his life, Annie, to kill Karin Love, as those two were in prison together. Karin ended up killing Annie. Leon came looking for Rune in Killing Land.
Gavin, Gage, and Bellamy Delaney—The gargoyles from Killing Land. Gage is held prisoner in the Annex. Gavin and Bellamy want him killed or released, and they also want his twisty weapon key which Eugene took.
Luciana Vega—First appears in Killing Land. Friend of Jill's. Becomes a friend to Shiv Crew.
Lee Crane—Former leader of the Next. Annex prisoner.
About Laken Cane
The coffee addicted urban fantasy/paranormal and horror writer Laken Cane lives in Southern Ohio with her genius son, two Yorkies named Daphnis and Lexi, and one Golden named Chloe who rules them all.
Places you can find Laken:
Instagram--http://www.instagram.com/lakencane
Website--www.lakencane.com
Twitter--www.twitter.com/lakencane
Goodreads--www.goodreads.com/lakencane
Facebook--www.facebook.com/laken.cane.3
FB Author Page--https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLakenCane
FB Waifwater Page https://www.facebook.com/waifwater
THE FOLLOWING PAGES CONTAIN CHAPTERS FROM LAKEN’S PARANORMAL ROMANCE, UNBREAKABLE, FOLLOWED BY CHAPTERS FROM HER PARANORMAL
POST-APOCALYPTIC, WE, THE FORSAKEN.
Happy reading!
A preview of UNBREAKABLE
Book 1 in Laken Cane’s Paranormal Romance, UNBREAKABLE, available now on Amazon.
Chapter One
“I don’t know what else to do. You have to help me, Ms. Cameron.” The girl, her face tearstained and pale, reached out to touch Abby’s hands.
Abby tilted her head so her thick, purple-tinged hair slid over her face—a habit she was barely aware of, then stood and began pacing the worn wood floor. “Please. Call me Abby. I’m not sure what to do, hon. I think you should go to the police.”
Brooke snorted, then began crying again. “They won’t help. They can’t help. Eli Dean is a powerful wolf.” She waved a carefully manicured hand. “Even you have to know the local police force does not like to get involved in the business of its non-human citizens.”
Yes, even she knew.
But the local sheriff had also helped her once upon a time, when she’d needed him. He hadn’t been Waifwater’s sheriff back then, but he’d helped her.
She still owed him for that particular debt.
Brooke stood suddenly and lifted her top, baring ribs covered with bright, angry bruises. “See what he did? I have to get away from him and the pack. If I don’t go into hiding…” She stopped suddenly and dropped her shirt back into place, avoiding Abby’s gaze.
“What?” Abby asked. “Tell me, Brooke.”
Finally, Brooke looked at Abby, her eyes clear, honest, and almost completely devoid of hope. “Eli is going to rape me. He’s going to pass me around to the subordinates, and after they’ve tired of me, he’s going to kill me.”
Abby swayed and caught the back of a chair.
“Eli is going to rape me…”
“Ms. Cameron, are you okay?” Brooke reached out a hand, then withdrew it.
“He can’t do that,” Abby muttered. But he was a Dean, and she knew well of what the Deans were capable.
Of what people were capable.
She touched her face.
A lot of people had tried to break her. A Dean, a demon witch, her father…
But they had not broken her.
She was unbreakable.
And don’t you forget it.
Brooke’s smile was sad. “Oh, yes he can. He’s our alpha. He can do anything he wants to us. It’s the pack way.” She shrugged. “He mellowed a few years ago when he started sneaking around with that bitch, Andrea Cramer. Did you hear about that?”
“Yes.” Everyone had been talking about it. The wolf alpha dating a human was one thing—the werewolf council would likely have overlooked it had the lovers been more discreet—but the council heard that Eli was actually considering marrying her.
That, some of the clients had told Abby, was what Andrea had boasted on her blog and YouTube channel.
Marriage between a wolf and a human was not allowed.
Never had been, never would be.
A human would never rule a wolf pack. Not alone, not at a wolf’s side.
Eli Dean had gone before the council, and when he’d finally been released and reestablished as the Black Feather Pack leader, it had been without Andrea.
She’d disappeared. Gossip was that she’d been paid—a lot—to go far, far away.
But some people said she’d been murdered.
“I don’t care if it’s the pack way,” Abby murmured. “It’s not right.”
“Maybe not, but our laws are our own. No one cares. And if you don’t help me, I’m doomed.”
Shit. Abby closed her eyes to shut out the girl’s terrified face.
She shouldn’t interfere with the wolves. Ordinarily she wouldn’t—no matter what she heard or saw or knew—but that time it was different. There was a wolf girl begging her for help. Begging her to save her.
From rape.
She wasn’t a wolf, or a stranger, or off limits.
She was a woman begging another woman to save her.
Abby opened her eyes, balled her fist, and smacked the wall.
“Abby?”
“I’ll help you,” she said.
“Oh. Oh my God, you will? You really will?” Brooke put her knuckles to her lips and began sobbing. “Oh, you will. You will.”
Abby reached out to pat the distressed girl on the shoulder. “Hush now. You’ll be all right.”
And as soon as she made the decision, as soon as she made the promise, she was all in. “Come.” She strode across the floor of her small house. “We must get started immediately.”
“Wait,” Brooke said, with a watery smile. She dragged her big purse off the table, withdrew a wad of bills, and held them out to Abby. “Take the money. I know you live off the generosity of your clients, and for something this huge, I don’t aim to stiff you.”
Abby hesitated, then nodded. “I’m very grateful. Thank you.” She took the money and stuck it inside the wooden box on her fireplace mantel. “Follow me.”
She didn’t ask how much was there. Accepting money for helping an abused girl made her feel…icky.
But she had few choices when it came to making money, and Brooke was right. She did live off the generosity of her clients.
She didn’t have set prices for what she did—it was understood that they would pay her what they decided the reading, or the healing spell, or the love potion was worth to them.
Sometimes she received mere pennies, but for the most part, those who came to see her were very generous.
Brooke followed her from the room, her breathing quick, her footsteps light. She was a small thing, with shiny blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
“Thank you,” she said, again and again, as they hurried down the short hallway.
When she reached the end of the hallway, Abby pulled back the heavy black drapes hanging there and motioned the girl into the curtained off area. “Sit on the bench, hon.”
“Wow,” Brooke breathed. “Holy wow.” She put a delicate hand to her chest and looked around, her eyes wide.
Abby let the drapes settle back into place and walked into the alcove. She understood Brooke’s awe. The spell room was full of magic, darkness, and mystery.
Above them, an endless night sky was lit with tiny, twinkling stars, framing a crescent moon. An inextinguishable fire blazed cheerily a short distance away, and a large, black pot bubbled busily in its midst.
“But how?” Brooke asked. “When you pulled back the curtain, this was just a tiny room. And now…” She shook her head. “It’s a world. How?”
Abby smiled. She didn’t take many clients into the spell room, but when she did, they all reacted the same way.
One of the cats, Jasmint, leapt to the bench beside Brooke. The girl shrieked and jumped away from the animal, nearly falling over her own feet.
Abby snorted. “A wolf afraid of a little cat. Jasmint won’t hurt you, Brooke. Sit down.”
But Brooke was too curious to sit. She turned in circles, her gaze darting from one object to the other.
“What a fantastic hiding place this would be,” she murmured. “It’s like a whole different world.” She shot Abby a quick glance. “All your property would make an excellent hiding place, though, wouldn’t it?”
“Nope,” Abby replied. “My hollow is dangerous to outsiders. The animals would chase a trespasser away no matter where you hid. You need to get out of Waifwater, Brooke. You can’t hide here.”
Brooke smiled. “Of course.” Then she pointed to a long, ornate door in the distance, beyond the fire. “What’s through that door?”
Abby flinched and turned toward the door. “You can see the door?”
“Sure. There’s like an outline of yellow light around it.”
Abby mumbled under her breath and backed away from Brooke. The spell was wearing thin, and that was her fault. “Brooke, sit down or leave the room.”
Brooke sat, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry.”
Abby strode toward the door and pulled her wand from her pocket. Fin
ally, almost afraid to turn her back to the nosy wolf, she waved her wand at the door and muttered under her breath.
“It’s gone,” Brooke exclaimed. “The door disappeared.”
“There was no door.” Abby hurried back to the fire. “You imagined it.”
“Okay,” Brooke said. “If you say so.” She sat gingerly on the bench, recoiling from Jasmint.
Jasmint licked a paw, her stare on the frightened girl.
“Jas, behave,” Abby said.
“I’d heard your cats were demons—and that they’d tried to eat a few of your clients.”
“Gossip and lies,” Abby said, back to her cheerful self. “Shall we get started?” She could not stay morose in the spell room. It was dark, and she loved the dark. It was peaceful, and its air was pure. The moon above was bright and the sky vast.
There were few places she’d rather have been than the spell room.
“Yes, let’s,” Brooke answered. “I want to be far away from Waifwater before Eli finishes his hunt tonight. When he gets back from a hunting trip, he’s always full of vigor and…” she trailed off, shuddering.
Abby could imagine. She put a hand to her stomach, trying to ease the painful tightness. Then she turned her head and spat on the ground. “Eli Dean will be lucky if he escapes this night unscathed.”
Brooke’s mouth opened. “What do you mean?”
Abby lifted her chin. “Karma is a bitch.” She smiled, then shook her hair over her face when Brooke recoiled.
She walked to the altar before the inextinguishable fire, where she chose a cup and a small bag of dried herbs. Then she lifted the long handled dipper from the coffin nail on the fire post.
She lowered the dipper into the pot, then poured its contents into the cup. As the liquid swirled, she sprinkled in some of the herbs. She watched as it hit the liquid, sparked, then quieted.
The liquid cooled immediately.
She dropped the bag into the pocket of her cardigan, hung the dipper back on its nail, then held the cup between her palms, chanting.
She closed her eyes and sent her energy into the cup, into the liquid, her power combining with the herbs to once more bring the liquid to a boil.
