Klaus

by Ava Benton

  “See anything interesting?” I asked with a smile, walking with her to the kitchen where several of the others were unloading boxes of food. The smell of raw meat used to excite me—or, rather, my dragon. It was with a hollow sense of certainty that I realized the scent did nothing for me anymore.

  I fought to make sure my smile didn’t slip.

  “The most delicious rugby team from the university,” she grinned. “Fresh off a match, on their way to the pub for a celebratory pint or three. They invited Isla and me to join them when we crossed paths.”

  “I’m sure they did. And how long did you spend with them?”

  She laughed, elbowing me in the ribs. “You know the dragon doesn’t like being in the presence of so much testosterone. She doesn’t know whether to jump them or rip them to pieces.”

  “Perhaps both,” I agreed with a chuckle, the hollowness ringing out inside me once again. My best friend, and I couldn’t share with her the bitter truth.

  “Yes, like a praying mantis,” she concluded. “Can you imagine what they would’ve done if they knew who they’d tried to chat up?”

  “Soiled themselves, most likely. Or dropped dead of shock.”

  “Aye, poor lads,” she concluded with a sigh. “But a nice diversion.”

  When we talked like that, giggling and lighthearted, I almost felt normal. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so dangerous to spend more time among them. They didn’t have to know. I needed to reconnect in some way, even if I could no longer shift.

  “What’s it like outside?” I asked as we left the kitchen, with her moving in the direction of the common room to peruse the stack of magazines stuffed into her shoulder bag. I could see their bright, flashy covers peeking out from the top.

  “Lovely. Going for a walk?”

  “Yes, a long one. I want to stretch my legs.” Oh, please, don’t offer to come with me. If we were going to spend time together, it would have to be on my terms. There were far too many minefields to sidestep. What if she suggested we fly together after such a lengthy hiatus?

  My palms began to sweat, my heart to race.

  For no reason, as it turned out. “Take care out there,” she advised, and her voice took on a serious tone which caught my attention.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing that I know of, but I did hear Alan talking with Owen this morning about surveillance. Something’s on his mind. You know him, though. He wouldn’t tell me.”

  “No, and why would he?” I loved my brother and always had, but I’d be the first to attest to his hardheadedness. Always believing he could handle any challenge on his own. He felt he had something to prove in the wake of Gavin’s passing.

  Dear Gavin. I always smiled whenever he came to mind, and did so as I parted ways with Leslie and began the walk to the mouth of the cave. Wise, charming, with a wicked sense of humor. Nothing had ever seemed to shake his humor or his resolve. Only a handful of times across the centuries of his reign over the clan had I ever seen him lose his temper, and the rarity of those instances had only made his anger more chilling.

  Had either of his sons been with us, they would naturally have taken over in his stead. But Gate and Fence were of the Appalachian clan now, having sailed off long ago.

  It was good to see Gate and Miles in St. Lucia, would that it had been under different circumstances. For the briefest moment, I’d wondered if Gate would come back with us to assume his father’s place. But he had no such aspirations, and he’d built a life for himself in America as we had our lives in Scotland.

  Sometimes, it was easy to forget how much time had passed with the two branches of our clan existed on opposite sides of the ocean.

  I’d even considered traveling to America with Gate and Miles rather than returning home, a brief idea I’d shared with no one else. There were humans living in the caves there, women I might fit in with if my dragon never returned. Surely, my kin would not shun me if they were open-minded enough to share their home with human women.

  We had never accepted humans into our clan, and I was sure we never would. It would make for too many complications, and Alan couldn’t have complications.

  Would I be a complication to him?

  Leslie had been right; it was a lovely day, sunny and warm. Surely, we were due for a spell of wet weather. I couldn’t remember when I’d seen such a stretch of beautiful days. As though we’d brought back the weather with us from the islands.

  The birch trees which swayed in the light breeze were hardly the palms of St. Lucia, I reflected with a rueful grin as I ran my fingers over the bark of one of them while passing by. The idea of wandering the woods alone, without my dragon, sent a shiver up my spine which I ignored.

  The woods were my second home. I knew them like the backs of my hands. No harm could come to me there.

  Leaves and pinecones crunched underfoot, and I reflected on the fact that it would grow damp and cool soon. I loved that time of year as well. I loved all times of year, really. The crisp color of autumn, the bitter sting of winter, the endless rain in spring prior to nature’s explosion of new life. Each season brought its beauty and its challenges alike.

  Looking up, I confirmed that the trees had begun to shed their leaves. It was only a matter of time before my breath would fog around my head as I wandered between the trees, picking my way over fallen logs and admiring the colorful carpet of orange, red, gold…

  A twig snapped behind me.

  I froze, eyes wide, heart immediately leaping to life and taking off at a trot.

  It’s all right. Everything’s fine.

  With two dozen living alongside me, the odds of ever being truly alone were slim. The woods didn’t belong solely to me. There was a good chance any of them might come out for a walk at any time. I couldn’t let the slightest noise shake me in such a way.

  If my dragon were with me, my senses would be so much sharper. I couldn’t hear as I once had, couldn’t sniff the air and immediately note a difference. What was I thinking, going off on my own? I was all but defenseless! Practically blind and deaf as I stood there, muscles rigid, breath coming in short gasps.

  Another snap.

  Another.

  I began to tremble. Why couldn’t I move? I had to move! To at least turn and face whatever was behind me. I couldn’t stand there, shaking and quivering in fear. Not like before, when I had let everyone down by not acting fast enough.

  Stop this! It wasn’t my dragon screaming at me. Something else, someone else, a voice that could only belong to me. Just me. You’re utterly ridiculous to stand here and cower in fear. You are a dragon!

  Yes. I was, still. The blood of the dragon still flowed through me as it had for centuries, when these woods were hardly more than a small grove of saplings. I had survived the passage of time and would still be standing when the last tree fell.

  And I would stand before whatever lurked behind me because I wasn’t one who cowered.

  My spine stiffened, my shoulders squared. I lifted my chin as I turned, fists clenched, ready to fight.

  What I saw took the fight straight out of me. One thing I had never seen in the woods over the centuries. The last thing I’d ever have expected.

  A lion. A lion with scars running down the side of its face, staring at me through familiar eyes.

  “Klaus?” I asked, my shoulders slumping.

  9

  Klaus

  I finally knew what was different about her.

  It had only taken getting her alone while as the lion. So simple, but we’d never had reason to be together while I was the lion, and when I’d caught her scent in the past, she’d normally been in the presence of the others.

  And when she identified me out in the woods and relaxed so obviously, it all made sense. She had been afraid. A dragon would have no reason to be afraid.

  She isn’t one of them. Not anymore. The lion’s nerves fairly sang with the knowing of it. He wanted to explore her, to inhale her very essence and identify that which mad
e her so unlike the rest. How had it happened?

  How had she lost her dragon?

  I took one step away from her, then another, being careful to move slowly. I had to speak with her, had to understand what had happened. I couldn’t let her go without knowing.

  It was all becoming clear.

  Once I reached an old, gnarled tree with a truck twice as thick as my human body, I ducked behind it and let the shift come over me. “Wait there,” I commanded he once I could speak again.

  “Where would I go?” The note of defeat was in her sweet voice. How had I never put it together before? She was so alone.

  “My clothing isn’t far from here.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first man I’ve ever seen without a stitch of clothing,” she snorted. “I’ve lived among men for longer than you’ve been alive. Much longer.”

  “All right, then.” If it mattered not to her, it mattered not to me. I stepped out into the open and strode barefoot to the tree in whose hollow I’d left a folded pair of shorts and a t-shirt. She watched me; I felt her eyes examining my every move.

  Somehow, this pleased me. My body was certainly nothing to be ashamed of and had attracted more than a few appraising looks from girls and women over the years. We all shared the same general characteristics, all shifters. Extreme fitness was one of them, along with height and in men a broad, wide frame. Powerful.

  Once clothed, I turned to face her. She blushed, eyes finally moving to the ground, telling me she’d watched my entire performance with more than a little interest. This, too, pleased me; it was unfortunate, then, that far more important matters stood between us.

  “I know now,” I murmured, taking care not to frighten her. She was on edge, and rightfully so. “They did something to you. Those men. So-called doctors.”

  Her body didn’t move, her face, on the other hand, was a storm of conflict. Her chin trembled, her jaw clenched and twitched. Nostrils flared, pupils dilated.

  She swallowed, opening her mouth to take a deep breath which she let out slowly. “Yes. They did something to me. Now you know.”

  “Ah. You could’ve told me.”

  “Why?” she whispered, almost laughing. “Why would I tell you? I don’t know you. And I can’t tell any of them.” She motioned in the general direction of the mountain. “They would shun me. They’d never accept me. I don’t know if I would accept someone in my position, I must admit.”

  “Nothing about you has changed.”

  “Everything about me has changed.” She all but fled, half-running out of the woods and into the open.

  I followed, watching carefully in all directions for the presence of others as I caught up to her near the circle of stones.

  “Stop this.” I reached her, taking her wrist and pulling her to me.

  Even as a woman without her dragon, she was strong. She wrenched her arm away as she spun.

  “You know my secret now,” she hissed, eyes wild over deeply flushed cheeks. “Congratulations. You may now tell everyone and see to it that my life is good and truly destroyed.”

  “Why would I do that? What do you think of me? I bear you no ill will. I wish to assist you if I can.”

  Her eyes narrowed, her smooth brow creasing as she frowned. “How could you assist me?”

  “I won’t know until you tell me everything. There could be a way. But the one way to make certain there’s nothing to be done is to keep this a secret, to hold it all within yourself.”

  “I haven’t wanted to,” she whispered, tearing up. “What else could I do?”

  “I don’t know that I would’ve behaved any differently.” I leaned against one of the stones, smooth and warm from a day in the sun, and she did the same. We were side by side, staring out at the slowly setting sun through a gap between two of the stones opposite us. It seemed we always met outside while the sun was beginning its descent.

  “None of them know?” I asked, glancing at her from the corner of my eye.

  She slid to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest before shaking her head. “Not that I’m aware of. I doubt any of them could keep it a secret for this long if they did.” She chuckled without humor, looking up at me from beneath thick lashes. “I know them, remember.”

  “Of course.” I sat down, too, making sure to maintain the space between us. “What about at the resort? That day. When the men invaded the place. You were there; I saw you come in with the others.”

  She nodded with a sigh. “I slipped away while the others were shifting—yourself included, I suppose.”

  I thought back as hard as I could, going back to that day at the resort. I could still smell the blood of those men, men I enjoyed tearing to pieces. I enjoyed hearing their screams of horror, surprise, pain. It wasn’t often I got to participate in meting out punishment, not at that level, and these men had certainly deserved it.

  “The storm raged outside,” I recalled. “It all happened rather fast. Much of it is mixed up in my head. I admit, I wasn’t so much looking for you as I was looking to rid us of a few murderous thugs.”

  She nodded, a rueful smile spreading across her lips. “Which was why I had an easier time getting away, hiding myself, than I would have otherwise. Once the shifting began and the gangsters looked as though they were about to soil themselves, no one was paying attention to me.”

  She looked down at her hands, suddenly very interested in the way her fingers laced together. Embarrassed, her cheeks turning roughly the color of a sunset.

  “And you’re certain no one else knows about this?” I murmured, careful to keep my voice soft.

  “Not that I’m aware of.” She turned her head a bit, almost looking at me but not quite. As though she didn’t want to meet my eyes. “Then again, as far as they know, I was never treated with any serum. Perhaps one of the others is keeping a secret from the rest of us, just as I am. Can you think of anyone who hasn’t shifted recently? Anyone who seems to be making a point of keeping to themselves?”

  “Why would I know better than you would?”

  “Because I’ve taken pains to avoid everyone else. You’ve noticed. Don’t pretend as though you haven’t.”

  It was my turn to be embarrassed by her frankness. “I knew you were keeping to yourself, yes.”

  She smiled softly, turning her face to the setting sun once again. “I don’t know whether I want one of them to be like me, or if I’m praying I’m the only one who was changed. I certainly wouldn’t wish this on any of the others, or anyone else.”

  “Perhaps it’s something that only lasts but so long,” I reasoned. “Sort of like the injections Miles and Gate gave you all, to make you immune to iron. It doesn’t last forever, a month, at most, if I remember correctly.”

  “Yes, that’s what they told us,” she agreed. “They’re currently trying to find a way to extend the potency.”

  “Well? Who’s to say the same isn’t true of what those so-called doctors gave you?”

  “Who’s to say it’s not?” Her voice sounded strange, as though her throat was clogged with tears. “I had no way of knowing. They told me nothing of what to expect, nothing even of what they were injecting into my body. Can you understand how that might affect a person?”

  She was on her feet before I had the chance to respond, fists clenched at her sides and something close to a growl coming from her lips. “Do you know what it means to have something put in your body without your control? Without your consent? To feel half of you… simply go away?”

  “That part of you isn’t gone.”

  “It sure as hell feels gone to me.”

  “I see it right now.”

  She stopped, mouth falling slightly open. I could tell my observation rocked her quite a bit.

  “I do,” I continued, nodding in spite of her obvious confusion. “I see it in you, the dragon. I hear it in your voice. You pulled away from me earlier, wrenched yourself free, perhaps because you weren’t thinking about it before you acted, you had no time to sec
ond-guess yourself. You are no weak, shy, retiring thing, Ainsley. You still have that fire the rest of them have. It hasn’t left you.”

  She pressed her hands to her chest, one on top of the other. “But I don’t feel it. I don’t hear my dragon anymore; it’s like I’ve lost myself. It’s all quiet in my head now. For a thousand years, I don’t think I ever heard such quiet.”

  I knew of what she described, as I’d been listening to my lion all my life. Even when I was too young to understand what was going on in my head, I heard him.

  I’d thought I was crazy. That I had a secret which set me apart. That they might lock me away somewhere if they ever found out about the voice which seemed to be constantly striving to control my actions.

  “I’m certain it’s still in there. Somewhere. Think about it.” I got to my feet, taking her by the arms, holding her still and steady in front of me and perhaps trying to comfort her at the same time. “They couldn’t possibly take your dragon from you with mere injections. The dragon has been inside you for over a thousand years, it’s who you are. Perhaps what they gave you was only a means to forget that, to lose the connection. To silence the other side of yourself.”

  Her eyes were wide, tear-filled, searching mine. She’d carried this all alone for so long and had believed herself to be utterly alone. On the outside of her clan, the only kin she’d ever known.

  I knew that sort of separation. I longed to tell her of my past, of how I understood, but she didn’t need to hear about that while so unhappy. Another time, if ever.

  “Why is it so important that you keep this a secret from the others?” I asked, willing myself to pay no mind to the sun’s late rays as they turned her hair to blazing copper, or to the firm smoothness of her skin and the muscles beneath. So much power, so much beauty, wrapped up together.

  She nearly sneered, as though this was the stupidest thing ever suggested. “What will they think of me?”

  “They’ll think you were sorely taken advantage of, as were the rest of you. There’s no telling the sort of tests they put you through, keeping you separate as they did. I’m certain there was a reason for it, too. The less the lot of you compared notes on the tests being performed, the better.”