by K. de Long
A man’s home was his castle. He’d been restless here at first, too, when his mother moved in with Remi.
He’d stayed up all night, listening to the strange noises. It scared him the way Remi had looked at him; in those days, no one acknowledged that the man who’d raised him wasn’t the one who mated with his mom. He’d been all paws and tails, hiding from the man’s eyes, not yet sure of why Remi was so fixated on him. Elias swore he was too old to believe in ghosts, but nothing could convince him that there wasn’t someone stalking the halls, waiting to drag him out of bed if he closed his eyes.
He hadn’t slept a wink. He’d prowled the halls and looked in all the closets, seeking some sign of the spectral intruder. Elias woke up when he snuck in to check his closet, too. And insisted that Liam stay there with him, to let him keep watch instead. Elias was only a few years older—no match for a monster—but that little bit of pack safety was enough to calm Liam.
He spent the rest of the week laying at the foot of Elias’s bed, as Elias pretended to stay on sentry duty. That was before they realized what their new status—and their place in this home—represented. Before the brothers’ bond splintered, and they both pried its shards out of themselves, to make the pain and the struggle stop.
Liam hated the thought of Tessa stalking this home as he had. He hated it just as much as he hated the idea of losing sleep listening to her.
He rose from bed, leaving his warm nest of blankets behind for the cold reception she’d undoubtedly give him. It was a simple matter of following the sounds until he found her.
Her back was to him as she walked the length of his front room. She didn’t seem to have heard him; some huntress she was. Those types of half-assed instincts could get her killed. His feral side wanted to seize her, sink his teeth into her neck, just hard enough to tell her to watch her back.
But did he really want her defensive when it was just them in the home he had to share with her?
Fuck, this was a minefield. It made him wish that they’d never seriously considered the truce. He’d rather face all of Elias’s murderous lackeys than the cornered predator with the enticing scent.
He coughed, opting for the least intrusive way of letting Tessa know he was there.
She spun, fast enough that she almost toppled over. He caught her elbow and steadied her. She was tall, for a woman, but still barely of a height to rest her forehead against his chin. This close, her chin had to tilt so she could look up at him, and the effort lengthened the elegant column of her neck.
Even with her eyes wide with aggression and her lips all but pulled back from her teeth, she was beautiful. Defensive, but beautiful.
If she was going to glare at him like that, he should have seized the moment to nip her neck. At least then he’d have the feel of her skin between his teeth. He was tired of tiptoeing around his own goddamn house. First, she hadn’t locked the damn bathroom door, and now she was glaring at him, even as she robbed him of his hard-earned sleep? Fuck, he’d forgotten how miserable it was living with company.
Pushing her buttons wouldn’t help anyone.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, as politely as he could manage under the circumstances.
Her eyes narrowed. “You snore.” She bit her lip, and he wished he could do it for her. He bet she’d gasp so prettily when he—
The blood rushed to his cock, and he cursed to himself. She was striking in the moonlight coming in the windows, but that was no reason to let himself forget why they were both here.
“Liar,” he accused. His voice came out soft and raspy, not harshly as he’d intended. Her breath hitched, and the urge to kiss her was all but overpowering. He pressed forward before his distraction could get the better of him. “I wasn’t asleep. You were being too loud.”
She winced that he’d caught her in the lie. But beneath that…there was pain. A desire to reach out. Fear. The need to feel safe. He wanted to ravage her until all of those doubts and concerns fled her mind. He wanted to know exactly why she was shifting from foot to foot as though she thought he might go for her throat. He wanted to know exactly why he put her inner wolf on edge.
But if she wanted him to know any of that, she’d tell him. If she wanted to show him a moment of softness or vulnerability, she would. Demanding it from her would only make their arrangement even more awkward and unpleasant.
His hand stopped halfway to cupping her cheek, and he dropped it back against his thigh. “Try to keep it down, pet,” he said, and turned back toward the bedroom. He had to get away from her before he did something he might regret—like pick her up, and claim her mouth. Fuck her on his couch, with the moonglow highlighting her sun-kissed skin.
He glanced back down the hallway as he reached his bedroom door. She was stuck in place, staring at him. There was an incomprehensible mix of emotions in her eyes, visible even in the darkness and shadow.
No doubt she was asking the same as him: What the fuck just happened?
When Tessa finally managed to sleep, her dreams were clouded, full of Marrock’s dark eyes. She woke to the imaginary brush of his palm cradling her head. In the low light, he’d been pure predator, but worse than that, he’d been pure lust. She had no idea how she’d stood up to that scrutiny, that she was dreaming about it only meant she was human. They’d come into this with the promise that he’d hold his distance, but she was less certain than ever: could he? Worse yet, did she even want him to?
Her stomach gurgled. The house smelled like scrambled eggs. She hadn’t even been aware of the hunger until the smell hit her. But suddenly, she was ravenous.
Did she dare face Marrock, hoping he’d made enough for the both of them? What if he looked at her with that hooded, intense stare again?
Damnit, they were not off to a good start.
“Ugh,” she growled to herself, and began finger-combing her hair into a ponytail. She couldn’t procrastinate forever.
Marrock looked up as her door creaked open. He was in the same godforsakenly thin pants as last night, and she hated him for it. Couldn’t he have made it easy for her to keep her eyes off his ass? Shouldn’t he care about how closely the fabric clung to his package?
“Breakfast’s almost done. We’re supposed to head into the hills by noon, if we hope to have the ceremony tomorrow. So after this, we aren’t eating until we catch something. This might be your last chance to eat for a while. Certainly your last chance to eat something so refined as an omelet. Unless you’re going home with them, calling it off?”
Her teeth clacked together as her jaws snapped shut. Did he sound hopeful that she’d walk away from the alliance?
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to make small talk as she gathered her wits. “I’ve always preferred rabbit cooked over a campfire. I never eat so well as I do on a hunt.”
It was only half a lie; she’d eat less well on this hunt, because it would be her first with her mate, and the ease with which they survived together would be taken as a statement on the strength of their binding. If they brought down anything less than a bear, she had no doubt it would fall squarely on her reputation. It would humiliate her family if she proved unable to keep up; either she’d be seen as lazy and uncommitted to their mating, or she’d be seen as useless, an improper mate for him anyways. Whatever game they brought home would be fed to their guests when they returned, which meant they had to bring home a lot of red meat.
Marrock flashed his even, white teeth at her in a hunter’s grin. “Me too. Truth be told, I haven’t had the free time to put myself on the roster for a while. I’m—I’m almost looking forward to this.”
The conspiratorial look, the surprisingly relaxed smile, it was a side to him she’d never seen before. And that unnerved her more than anything. She tore her eyes off him to accept the plate he was holding out, piled high with eggs.
“For energy,” he said.
She rolled her eyes, but tucked in. He was right. They’d need their strength.
They ate in
silence. It might have been companionable, if it wasn’t for her mounting anxiety about the nature of their union and whether she could bind herself to such a loveless future. It seemed an immediate death might be more of a relief than spending the rest of her life sitting at his kitchen table, struggling to avoid meeting each other’s eyes.
The food was ash in her mouth, though Marrock seemed to like the same amount of pepper she did. It should have been good—should have even been sweet that he cooked it for her—but she was adrift in unpleasant thoughts. He wasn’t any better.
A heavy thump sounded on his front door, and they both looked up with relief. Somehow, even that stung. How would they spend their lives together if even spending ten minutes alone with each other was so excruciating? He could have at least looked sorry for the interruption.
“Ryker,” he said. “Come on in. We’re just getting ready.”
The older man stomped his boots on the doormat and stood near the entry rather than venturing farther into Marrock’s space. “It’s time.” Tessa strained to hear what he called Marrock, but couldn’t piece it together. “Time to hunt.”
Marrock nodded. “We were just finishing breakfast. You ready, pet?”
The blood drained from Tessa’s face. How dare he? She was worth just as much in this alliance as him. He hadn’t adopted a puppy; he’d taken a mate. If she hadn’t been dazed by his raw sensuality and rattled last night, she’d have called him on it then. But that he’d repeated it—in front of company, nonetheless—made the insult ten times worse.
Somehow, she’d prove herself worthy. She’d prove that she was just as formidable a force as he. He’d learn that she was far, far more than a “pet.”
Chapter 8
Liam hoped that the hunt would distract him from the woman glaring daggers at him. Ryker walked with them to the edge of their main residential area, wheezing somewhat from the exertion. A number of his clan, second-cousins and aunts and uncles, were gathered to watch them set off. Both he and Tessa bore a backpack with harnesses designed to be comfortable, even once they transformed. His blood was up, wondering what his mate might look like in her spirit’s true form.
They’d packed lightly: only weapons, a few extra doses of absinthe, and some of the prized healing poultice, just in case. Though, if either one of them became injured seriously enough to use it, that would be taken as an ill omen, possibly one severe enough to scuttle the union entirely. They’d better not need it.
Their bags might not have been too heavy, but he knew they’d be feeling it once they began the long trek, seeking game. Tessa carried a bow, too. Its handle was worn and well-maintained; it was obvious she was comfortable using it.
Ryker turned to them, raising both of their hands in his and bringing them together. Liam entwined his fingers with Tessa’s. She felt so stiff. She looked confident, regal, but her harsh grip offered clues about how she really felt to be touching him. Liam wished that it didn’t sting so much.
Ryker opened the bottle of wine he had carried and offered it to Liam with a nod.
Liam knew the words by heart, having witnessed others taking this step before. “Tessa Lacroix, we depart now as two, but will return as one. Just as the pack unites through fealty, so will we. One from many.”
He raised the bottle to his lips, and drank deeply of the expensive liquid. It had an extra tang to it—a strong dose of absinthe. He shivered. His heart raced, and the colors became more vivid in his vision, painting the world garishly.
Tessa’s earthy scent became overwhelmingly strong; he could almost imagine that honeyed note of arousal being as strong as it would be on his tongue, his chin, his fingers dripping with—
No. He dragged his mind away from that path. They were going to hunt together, and that was it. Hopefully she would be less riveting once she’d shifted, once the chemistry between their human bodies was out of the equation.
He glanced at the woman beside him, at the coolly grim look on her face, and bit back a snarl. She was his. Or would be. It made no difference. The moment these interlopers were gone, his wolf would emerge. Would chase her, follow her deep into the mountain’s foothills, seeking a meal that might earn her trust. And then—
Tessa took the bottle from him. When she spoke, her voice was clear. But her grip was still painfully tight. That wouldn’t do. “Marrock—” His shoulders straightened. No one ever used his first name, but surely she knew it. Someone would have told her, even if he hadn’t gone out of his way to. Hell, she could have used the nickname “M”, which most of his own packmates used to his face. It seemed even more ludicrous, taking binding vows to a woman who didn’t even know his name. Still she pressed on, heedless of the omission. “We depart now as two, but will return as one. One from many.”
She drank her portion in a hurry, barely stopping to taste the liquid. A thin stream of burgundy slid from the outer corner of her lip.
“One from many,” Ryker intoned. The beginning of their mating ritual was complete, but for one thing—one heart-pounding, cock-swelling thing.
Liam drew Tessa into his arms and touched his mouth to hers. He could taste the wine on her lips. And already, he could feel her body tensing against him as the drug took hold and her bones shifted.
Their clothes fell to the floor as their rugged bodies slid free. Only the rucksacks stayed harnessed to them as they leaped forward. Two shaggy bodies ran for the woods in an erratic zigzag, fleeing the noises of the cheering people behind them.
Tessa loped ahead of him, her chestnut fur dappled in the light. The high-altitude air bit into his lungs, full of crispness, like a thousand tiny daggers stabbing him inside and out. He loved every minute of it.
She’d kept pace with him easily—pushed him to move faster, too. Every so often, the temptation hit for him to nip at her tail or at her hind legs to make her look back. She was his now, and she wouldn’t even look at him.
Okay. He took that back. She’d looked at him twice. Her emerald eyes had narrowed, and a whuff of breath had escaped her. He’d taken note of both times. It was for the better that she refused to let him distract her; they were on the heels of a bear that had passed through the area a day or so ago. When they got close, they’d want to transform back to have a better advantage with their human weapons.
Once upon a time, their kind had been limited to walking the earth during the full moon or when pressed to the edges of their limits. But absinthe had taken care of that. Now, with but a dose of the acrid Artemisia Absinthium plant’s pressed oil, they could transform at will.
But everything came at a price; during the culling, when the majority of humanity had been thinned out by disease, starvation, and drought, many of the most fertile areas had been devastated. Now, the materials for absinthe were rare. He wouldn’t have even had the stock they had brought with them without Tessa; her clan had ownership of the territory surrounding the most abundant areas where absinthe grew.
It had been part of the alliance, that the Kumori were sharing some of their stores with the Nefari. There were rumors that they had magical help in cultivating it, but he’d always believed they’d started those rumors themselves to convince the surrounding packs that even should the Kumori's enemies attack them to take their land over, the herb wouldn’t grow as plentiful for the conquerors.
A scent roused him from his thoughts: dung. Tessa was already there, inspecting it. She traded a look with him before her fur started melting back into soft skin and her bones lengthened. He shook his head and reached for the recollections of what it was to be a man, the key to forcing himself back into a human body.
Tessa made that easy; how could he not think of human things, manly things, carnal things, when her body was bare but for the harnesses catching and drawing his eyes to her breasts? Last night, he had seen her without permission, but now, she was his. He could look, drink his fill—
Some other time. She stared at him appreciatively, a faint smirk on her wine-stained lips. He wanted to kiss the exp
ression off of her. “It’s fresh,” she said. “We’re walking from here on out, I think.”
He nodded. Her instincts were spot on. “A bear’s a good sign. Maybe we’ll be back before nightfall, and I can stop worrying whether your father will pick a fight with Quentin if we leave him there alone too long.”
It felt like his human lungs had so much less capacity for breath—or perhaps it was simply that she looked at him as though she might prefer to take him down instead of the bear. They resumed walking in silence; if the bear was still foraging in the area, any noise might scare it away or force it to attack before they were ready.
Tessa moved with a killer’s trained grace, her footsteps barely crinkling the loamy waste underfoot. But despite the utilitarian nature of the movements, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the way her hips rolled, the way the light caught on her back and spine, highlighting lean muscles. Her bow was in hand, with an arrow halfway nocked. Despite it being almost as tall as she was, she never tripped over it. He couldn’t imagine what she must have looked like as a child, training with it.
He preferred his knives. He could handle a bow, but it just wasn’t as…satisfying…as feeling an opponent’s muscles straining against his, feeling their weight go limp when he landed the killing blow. To each their own.
His shoulder brushed against hers, and her cool skin made a thousand nerve endings suddenly remember their purpose. His skin broke out in goosebumps, and his mind ignited with thoughts of drawing her into his arms, fucking her senseless to seal their mate-bond, and then continuing their ritual hunt.
A branch cracked in the underbrush ahead of them, and they froze. Her fingers found the bowstring, as she scanned for where to aim the arrow. That expression, that primal awareness and aggression, eroded the last of his restraints.
