Huntsmen (The Better to Kiss You With Book 2)

by Michelle Osgood

  “How are you going to help?”

  “We’ve got a place for you to stay, for starters.” Nathan came down the stairs. “I get what it’s like to feel like you have to do everything on your own. I do,” he said quietly. “But sometimes you have to let other people help. And that’s okay too.”

  Ryn gave a jerky, defensive shrug.

  “We know how GNAAW works. We understand the system.” Cole started to pull the ingredients for French toast from the fridge. “Give us a bit more time.”

  “Today.” Kiara held Ryn’s gaze. “They’ll get in touch with us today. Stay until then.” Once they heard from GNAAW, they could reevaluate. Once they knew more, Kiara would know what to do. Until then, all she could do was keep Ryn here, where she knew she was safe. “Please.”

  Ryn’s jaw worked; clearly stubbornness was warring with common sense. Kiara’s shoulders tensed and her muscles knotted as she waited for Ryn to decide. If Ryn disagreed, Kiara didn’t know what she would do. She couldn’t keep Ryn in the apartment without a fight and, while Kiara was fairly confident that she could win, she wasn’t sure what winning that fight would make her lose.

  “Sure. Whatever.” Ryn dropped onto the couch and pulled out her phone to demonstrate her clear indifference.

  “Great.” Deanna beamed. “This means you can do my hair and Jamie’s!”

  “What?” Jamie looked startled and raised a self-conscious hand to her hair. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “You know how we were talking about how you needed a trim the other day,” Deanna reminded Jamie.

  “Oh. Er. Right. A trim.”

  “And Nathan probably needs one too, right?” Deanna turned her smile, sharp at the edges, to Nathan.

  “Yeah. Definitely. It’s out of control.” Nathan feigned concern.

  “What about you, Kiara?” Ryn looked up from her screen. Her voice was syrupy-sweet and set Kiara’s teeth on edge. “You’ve definitely been seeing someone subpar.”

  Kiara didn’t bother to dignify that with a response. “I’ll take Arthur out,” she offered and reached for the leash.

  “Nope.” Jamie pushed her hand away. “They saw you, us—” She indicated herself and Deanna. “—leave the Kings of Hearts with Ryn. If they’re looking for her, then they’re probably keeping their eyes out for us. So it’s gotta be Nathan or Cole.”

  Cole shrugged innocently. “I’m cooking.”

  With a reluctant glance at the rainy windows, Nathan picked up the leash.

  “Come on, buddy,” he waved Arthur over, who gave a happy woof. “Out into the wilderness.”

  “Thaaank you,” Deanna called after him as she settled onto one of the island stools.

  “Is there a gym in the building?” Kiara asked Deanna. She itched with the need to get out of the apartment, to do something with the restless energy that burned under the surface of her skin.

  “Yeah. You need a key, though.”

  Kiara deflated. Of course. And she was sure Nathan had left with it.

  “There’s one on my keychain. In my purse.” Deanna jerked her thumb at the couch where her heart-shaped dancing purse sat on the floor beside the armrest—the one Ryn lounged against.

  Kiara slid her eyes to Deanna and tilted her head hopefully in the direction of the couch. Deanna gave her a pitying look.

  Kiara scowled.

  Jamie turned her laugh into a hasty cough and busied herself in the kitchen with Cole.

  Kiara gritted her teeth and crossed the room. Ryn didn’t deign to look up from her phone, and Kiara tried not to be annoyed. She grabbed Deanna’s purse, walked to the kitchen, and dug until she found the keys.

  “Thanks.” She slid the purse across the island. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “Breakfast will be ready in twenty,” Cole informed her.

  Kiara waved a hand in acknowledgment and went to find the gym.

  Chapter Eleven |

  The gym wasn’t too hard to find. Kiara just had to follow the smell of sweat, frustration, and endorphins to the second floor. This early on a Sunday morning, with most folks sleeping off their Saturday night, it was empty, which suited her well enough.

  The bank of windows at the far wall gave her a slight pause, not that there was any way for the Huntsmen to know where they were. No, it was beyond paranoid to think that someone might be watching her through them. Still, Kiara wished the windows had curtains.

  She realized she should have asked Nathan—or rather, Deanna, who obviously knew her way around Nathan’s closets well enough—for another set of clothes, as the pair of baggy sweatpants and over-large T-shirt weren’t ideal for working out, but there was no way Kiara was going back up. Besides, she reasoned, she could get a new set when she was finished, rather than dirty another outfit. And now that they knew the Huntsmen weren’t after anyone in her pack, she might be able to get to her apartment for her own clothes. Or at least send Nathan.

  Thinking fondly about the look of exasperation he’d give her when she asked him to go, Kiara went straight to the bench and loaded plates onto the bar.

  Kiara was winding down when the lock on the gym door clicked and Nathan pushed his way through. He held a bottle of water and an aromatic plate of food. As he crossed the floor, he tossed her the bottle, and she caught it with a grateful nod.

  Wiping sweat from her upper lip, Kiara twisted the cap off the bottle and sucked back half the water in one swallow.

  “Thanks,” she panted.

  “No problem.” Nathan watched as Kiara tidied away the evidence of her inhuman lifting ability.

  “You didn’t have to bring me breakfast.” Kiara sat beside him and reached for a piece of French toast. She was ravenous enough not to care about the lack of utensils.

  “What? Oh, this definitely isn’t for you.” Nathan jerked the plate out of her reach. Kiara’s face fell, and he cackled. “Kidding, only kidding. God, you should have seen your face.” He mimicked her expression, dropping his jaw in feigned dismay.

  Kiara glowered and snatched the plate out of his grip before he could pull it away again. Neither she nor Cole were adept at cooking, but Cole was able to make a pretty good slice of French toast.

  “I appreciate what you’re doing for us,” Kiara said after she’d inhaled the first piece.

  Nathan raised an eyebrow. “All I did was bring you a plate of lukewarm, soggy bread.”

  Kiara gave him a flat look. “You know what I mean. Letting us stay at your place, getting involved in werewolf politics that have nothing to do with you. I appreciate it. We appreciate it,” she added, stiffly. “Once this is over, I’ll compensate you for the trouble.”

  Nathan stood abruptly, forcing Kiara to tilt her head to look up at him as she bit into her second piece. His hands were clenched at his sides, and he refused to look at her. When he spoke, his voice was terse. “You don’t have to ‘compensate’ me for shit. And, frankly, I’m insulted at the offer.”

  Kiara swallowed the bite of toast that had suddenly become a lump in her throat. “You’re not involved in this,” she tried to explain. “It doesn’t concern you. You’re human.”

  “Yeah? Well so is Deanna, and that didn’t stop her from getting caught in the crosshairs. Literally.” Nathan paced away in disgust. “Deanna, Jamie, Cole, and even you—you’re my friends. Assuming that I could, that I would, just turn my back on all of you is—is—”

  “Unfair,” Kiara realized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “Well, you did.” Nathan turned back, stiffly, but with indignation fading.

  “I won’t again. But—”

  Nathan sent her a sharp look.

  “But,” Kiara continued, “Let me at least reimburse you for the grocery bill for the weekend. We are eating an awful lot of your food.” She held up the plate to demonstrate. “And it’s not like I can
’t afford it.”

  “All right,” Nathan allowed. “Are you finished with your workout?”

  Kiara nodded and shoved the rest of the French toast in her mouth. She stood and wiped her icing sugar fingers on her T-shirt, figuring she’d be taking it off soon.

  “Come on then.” Nathan headed toward the door. “There’s more French toast upstairs, and syrup.”

  In Nathan’s apartment, Ryn had set up an unconventional hair station on the far side of the kitchen island. In lieu of a mirror, Deanna—who was good at that sort of thing—had set up Nathan’s large desktop Mac and turned on the webcam.

  Jamie fidgeted self-consciously on the barstool as Ryn pulled her kit from her duffel bag. Ryn ignored Kiara’s entrance and laid out her tools on the island.

  “Stop freaking out,” she said to Jamie. “I’m not going to do anything drastic. You’ll look amazing, I promise.”

  “I’m not nervous,” Jamie insisted, despite the fact that every werewolf in the room could smell the spike in her anxiety.

  Ryn laughed.

  Though Kiara was sticky with sweat and icing sugar, she decided a shower could wait. Nathan had promised her syrup with her next round, after all.

  “Leftovers are just in the fridge,” Cole called to Kiara from the living room. He sat on the couch reading the same book as last night, with Arthur draped adoringly over his lap—Nathan hadn’t been wrong earlier, Cole would cuddle with anyone. Deanna was sunk into the beanbag with her laptop balanced on her lap and hummed a Taylor Swift song as she worked.

  “All right, so.” Ryn finished laying out her tools and stepped behind Jamie. She ran her hands though Jamie’s short hair, and Jamie gave a full-body shiver in response.

  Ryn’s eyes lit with mischievous delight, and she ran her fingers through Jamie’s hair. Jamie squirmed; a blush rose to her cheeks.

  Kiara slammed the door on the microwave.

  “Don’t worry, love, some folks just like the sensation. Relax. Enjoy it.” Ryn leaned down until her lips were an inch from Jamie’s ear. Across the island, her dark eyes met Kiara’s. “I promise to take very good care of you.”

  Jamie’s blush deepened, the tips of her ears flushed red, and from her beanbag an amused snort interrupted Deanna’s humming.

  “Can you take care of me next?” Nathan had sidled up beside Kiara and, batting his eyelashes, leaned suggestively across the island toward Ryn.

  Kiara elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Ow.” He straightened to rub the spot where her elbow had dug in. “Just for that I’m not going to show you where the syrup is.”

  “Fridge door,” Cole commented from the couch, without looking up from his book. Nathan made a wounded sound of betrayal.

  By the time Kiara had wolfed down her second plate of breakfast and showered, it was Deanna’s turn for a haircut, and she hopped eagerly into the chair.

  Jamie and Nathan had joined Cole in the living room. They were taking what Kiara was sure would be a zillion selfies of their new haircuts. Jamie’s pompadour had been given a cleanup; the top was a little shorter so her waves were more pronounced. Ryn had done something more exciting with Nathan’s hair. He sported elaborate edging on both sides of his head, in a floral pattern that thoroughly impressed Kiara, although she’d never admit it.

  “I want to look a bit gayer, you know?” Deanna fussed with her hair in the computer-cum-mirror. “But I also don’t want to go super short or anything because I like having long hair. It’s just frustrating being so femme sometimes, because I know the hot queer girls I check out just think I’m gawking.”

  Kiara glanced at Jamie, wondering what she thought about Deanna checking out other girls, but her cousin seemed unconcerned as she continued to mug for Nathan’s phone camera.

  “I get you.” Ryn nodded behind Deanna. “If I had access to all of my color, we’d add some fashion colors—non-natural color,” she clarified. “You’re already blonde, so we could do pretty much anything… you’d look amazing with an icy blue ombre. We call it denim,” she added with a flashing smile.

  “But I think I can come up with something acceptably queer—without getting rid of these lovely curls.” She twined one around her finger and smiled, meeting Deanna’s eyes in the screen.

  Kiara wasn’t sure what to do with the jealousy that simmered in her stomach as she witnessed the ease with which Deanna befriended Ryn. Kiara remembered all too well how banter with Ryn felt, remembered the high when Ryn met her eyes over a shared laugh. How easily the high could turn to heat with a quirk of Ryn’s eyebrow or a curl of Kiara’s lip.

  The edgy, restless feeling hit again, and for the thousandth time Kiara checked her phone. It was fully charged, connected to Nathan’s Wi-Fi and her service provider, and there’d been no contact from anyone.

  She marveled if the fact that she wasn’t fending off worried texts from friends wondering where she was, or what was the reason for her radio silence, but everyone in Vancouver that Kiara cared about was in this room. This was her family. She didn’t need any other friends.

  Well, not none, she considered, eyeing Nathan as he howled with laughter over a particularly silly face Jamie had made. Though the argument could be made—and Kiara may very well have made it herself in the past—that Nathan was as good as a brother to Deanna, so he was family. Kiara ignored that. She had a friend.

  “Hey.” She interrupted Jamie’s next attempt at making a face. “Quit goofing around.”

  Jamie looked up at her with a wounded expression. Nathan just looked annoyed.

  “I want to play Smash Brothers. And I’d rather play with you two six-year-olds than the computer.” Kiara stepped around them and dropped onto the couch. Arthur’s tail gave a furious wag, and he wriggled around to throw himself in her lap—in the process driving a paw into Cole’s groin with enough force that her impossible-to-ruffle bother swore aloud.

  Jamie and Nathan glanced at each other. Nathan shrugged, tucked his phone in his pocket, and passed out the controllers.

  “Check out my undercut,” Deanna boasted. She turned around and lifted up her hair to display the closely shaved triangle on the back of her head. She twisted so that she could look at it in the monitor.

  Nathan paused the game so they could all look. When Deanna let her hair fall it completely hid the shave; she could be as femme-presenting as she wanted, or show it off by twisting her hair up. Before Kiara could think better of it, she lifted a hand to her own hair, fingering the blunt edges of her bob.

  “I love it,” Jamie proclaimed. She rose from the couch and swept a giggling Deanna up in her arms.

  Leaning against the island with her arms folded comfortably across her chest, Ryn watched them with apparent fondness and enough familiarity that Kiara frowned. Ryn hadn’t met either woman until the night before last. But Ryn’s eyes were soft, and her lips were curved upward in a gentle smile.

  Kiara pulled her gaze away and sank against the couch, letting the pillows engulf her. She remembered seeing that look on Ryn’s face, the same look of happiness for someone who wasn’t herself. When they were together, Ryn had pressed Kiara about her large family with the curiosity of someone who had a small one. Kiara had found it easy to talk to Ryn about them.

  Ryn had particularly enjoyed stories about Cole and Kiara and Jamie growing up together. They had other cousins, firsts and seconds and thirds—the very nature of a werewolf pack living in a human society meant that they stayed close—but Jamie was the one closest in age and location to Cole and Kiara.

  Before Deanna, Jamie had never had a serious girlfriend. She’d dated a few women casually and had nursed a yearlong crush on a sociology prof, only to have her heart bruised, though not broken, when the professor gently rebuffed her flirting.

  During the year Kiara and Ryn were together, when Kiara was so wrapped up in Ryn—around Ryn—that she’d nearly flun
ked out, too in love to see anything past Ryn, too busy lounging naked and blissed out in Ryn’s bed to go to class, Kiara had confessed that she worried Jamie would never find such happiness. Jamie was shy, awkward, and horribly tongue-tied around cute girls. Kiara had worried to Ryn that no one would be able to see past Jamie’s shyness, which was so easily interpreted as aloofness.

  “She’s wonderful. She’s so good, so honestly good. What if no one ever sees that, Ryn? What if Jamie’s always hidden, and no one loves her?”

  Ryn had laughed and pulled Kiara in for a kiss. “That won’t happen. Someone will see. And then you’ll see that you were silly to worry. Silly, but sweet.” Ryn kissed her again and again, and then Kiara stopped thinking about Jamie altogether.

  Suddenly it was all too much for Kiara. She couldn’t stay in Nathan’s living room, staring at that open, fearless love, not when the only person she’d ever felt that with was in the same room, and between them was a chasm eight miles wide.

  “I’m going for a smoke.” Kiara pulled herself up from the couch and grabbed her phone and her purse. Ryn dug her hand into the pocket of the jeans she’d borrowed from Nathan and held out her lighter. Brushing past, Kiara refused to notice. She’d found an old book of matches in Nathan’s kitchen drawer last night, amid the takeout menus and accumulated kitchen gadgets. She didn’t need anything from Ryn.

  Kiara took Cole’s battered leather jacket from the hook by the door, slung it around her shoulders, and closed the front door firmly behind her.

  Chapter Twelve |

  It had finally stopped raining, but dampness hung in the February air. Kiara had never thought that she would miss the dry cold of an Edmonton winter—the chapped hands, chapped lips—but here everything was wet, and heavy with rain.

  Kiara flicked open the lid on the carton, pulled out one of the slim cigarettes, and held it between her lips as she fumbled with the matches.

  They were shit quality, but finally one caught and Kiara drew in the first lungful of smoke gratefully.