by Aline Hunter
The one seated closest to her—Emory—seemed the most unstable. His mind was in chaos, a raspy, animalistic voice in her head that could only be described as bestial and continued repeating the same words over and over again.
Mary. Mate. Mine.
She studied him as the man tried to overtake the animal, observing quietly as her gift allowed her to hear the dual thoughts that occurred simultaneously.
Even as he spoke to Diskant and Trey, the wolf continued chanting those three distinct words that were made all the more powerful when combined. From time to time Emory would lower his eyes, stare at the table and order the feral half to shut up and give him a moment’s peace. In that moment she wondered if there were those who possibly went insane from the separate entities within.
Unexpectedly, her focus shifted.
Trey’s wolf had risen to the surface, so powerful she could feel buzzing against her skin—as if it were a magic of some kind. “I’m not handing my brother to them,” he snarled violently. “If they want him they’ll have to fight for him.”
Guilt hit her like a fist in the stomach, taking her breath away. There was so much pain in the thought, so much misery.
Trey felt responsible for his brother, accepting the blame for everything that had followed a violent scuffle years before. Disjointed flashes in her mind showed her the battle, fangs bared, claws extended.
An image of Trey standing over his fallen brother, looking down at his battered form, was crystal clear. Emory was coated in blood, developing massive purple and black bruises and horrible gashes, some of which were all the way to the bone. Emory’s shirt was gone, his body broken on a mound of green grass that slowly absorbed the flowing red liquid that seeped from the cuts on his torso and face. Lifting his head, he met Trey’s enraged stare.
“Kill me,” Emory whispered.
For a moment the temptation arose, until the man overcame the beast and Trey turned from his pack mate and brother. He couldn’t kill him, which meant this would only happen again, and again, and again. Until Trey finally allowed the wolf to finish what had been set into motion or Emory was the one standing over his body, delivering the killing blow.
The images in Ava’s head vanished when Diskant’s own bestial side answered the challenge projected unwittingly by Trey, clamoring to take over. For the first time she was able to place the shift in him, to feel the animal that rose to the surface. It was the wolf that was infuriated, suffocating all of the others, forcing them back and away. It wanted to protect a pack mate, to face the enemy eating away at his Alpha, to shred and demolish flesh and bone with unyielding jaws and lethal teeth. Diskant tried to stem the flow of emotions, to put the beast back in a cage, but he was already on edge, feeding from all the shifters in a close proximity. So it wasn’t as simple as taking control.
She reacted without thought, driven by a new, undeniable instinct.
Lifting her hand, Ava grasped Diskant’s fingers and began running her thumb along his balmy skin, using careful, soothing motions. She moved closer to his side, snuggling against him, and felt something brush against her mind, a velvety caress of satiny fur that was so different from the coarse hair of the wolf. She whispered encouragement to the animal who was both cunning and playful, teasing it with the gentle motions of her fingers and the wriggling of her body.
The wolf didn’t settle but had been replaced by an entity with equal prominence. The large cat—a jaguar—shoved the lupine aside, basking in her touch, reveling how good it felt to be petted and stroked.
She heard the corresponding purr from Diskant’s chest, felt his shock as something occurred that he had no control over, and had to mask a smile when he spoke to Trey and his voice was hoarse. “Did you contact all of the Alphas about the missing shifters?”
The men continued speaking but it wasn’t the words she listened to. As soon as the large, predatory cat under her spell was appeased she focused on the emotions and fears of the men at the table, taking more from their emotions and reactions than she ever could from what they offered through spoken language.
Trey felt fear, concern and uncertainty—for his pack and his brother. The man at his side, Nathan, experienced much of the same but she was aware that in some way he was nullifying the stress placed on Trey, taking on the burden of anger and rage. Emory, of course, was a garbled mess and had been for some time. He missed his mate like the desert missed the rain. He wasn’t whole without her, would never be complete until they were reunited.
Yet beneath Emory’s anguish was an unshakable hurt that ate at him. As much as he longed for his mate, he was terrified of the reunion, horrified by her reaction the night she viewed him with claws and fangs. Her terror had hurt him in ways no physical blow ever could, devastating him to the point that he’d allowed several of the bullets to pierce his skin before he’d fled.
Ava allowed his recollection of the past to consume her as images flashed in her head. She could see a face—Mary—gawking at Emory with wide brown eyes full of horror. Her honey-blonde hair was darkened by the heavy rain that plastered the strands to her face, her full lips parted wide, eyes large and horrified. She rocked to and fro, hands limp at her sides until he moved toward her and she lifted her arms in a defensive gesture. Her scream pierced his eardrums, the wail high-pitched and terrified. Running from any predator was dangerous, especially a shifter, but that was exactly what she did. He’d almost followed, but he’d maintained control.
Barely.
The memory evaporated and Emory was in control once more, though he had to fight to stay that way. The wolf wanted to return to that moment. Any memory, even one that wounded the soul, was better than none.
Emory tuned in to the conversation between Diskant and Trey, though he continued to merge past with present, and Ava listened in. Blood would be shed over him. The head Shepherd—whom she immediately recognized as the armed man from earlier in the evening, Elijah—warned Emory that they would make an example of him. Daring to mate with one of his kin was a sin they could not abide. It was a direct sign, Elijah announced before his enclave, that god was testing their worth and calling upon their strength. Pointing his gun at Emory, Ava watched through the shifter’s eyes as Elijah turned to him, whiskered jaw clenched, thick brown brows furrowed. There was a glint of determination in the orbs of liquid obsidian that was as unmistakable as the man’s faith, but it was what he declared before Emory and his kindred that made Emory’s heart ice over.
“I’ll kill her before I allow you to take her, minion of Satan.”
“You have to give me to them. It’s the only way.” Emory abruptly severed the memory and interrupted the ongoing conversation, disorienting her in the process. His frantic gaze darted wildly about the room. “When will you tell the rest of the packs why they’re here?”
“I should tell them tonight.” Diskant answered, the arm at her shoulders drawing her close. “They have a right to know. If it had been wolves that were skinned alive, we’d be out for blood.”
“We need to know more about the Shepherds’ enclave,” Trey said and looked at Emory. “If their numbers are small, the pack can challenge them directly.”
“You’re asking the wrong person.” Emory laughed hollowly and Ava felt the anguish that was slowly suffocating him. “Mary didn’t tell me anything. She wasn’t even aware of the importance of her surname.”
“I can tell you,” she said without hesitation.
A lot had occurred in the past few days, but in the midst of chaos something extraordinary had happened. No longer did her ability make her an outcast that forced her to keep her head down and her presence obscured. She was now a part of something that regular people had no idea existed, which meant she wasn’t entirely an anomaly.
Confidence bolstered her decision. Diskant was the most powerful shifter in New York, and as his mate it was time to reveal what she could bring something to the table. She’d save the knowledge that she could read shifters for herself, but the Shepherds wer
e human, meaning they were safe ground. Who cared if she couldn’t sprout fur, grow fangs and howl at the moon?
What she could do was even better.
Brains before brawn.
“You can tell us what?” Diskant’s heated breath warmed her ear as his husky and alluring voice wakened various portions of her anatomy.
Forcing her desire to chill, she peered up at him and smiled. “Everything.”
“Everything?” he echoed and she heard the question in his mind, the uncertainty.
“They’re human.” She released his wrist, leaned forward and brought her hand to his chin, allowing her fingertips to tease the shadow that was growing thick and dark along the strong line of his jaw. His lids drooped slightly, the emerald green irises—those of the cat—positively simmering with desire. She had to tamp her own response despite the sudden urge to climb aboard his lap. “When they approached us outside the apartment I was able to learn their names and who was in charge. I also found out that they had a van parked at the end of the street where more of them were waiting in case something went wrong.”
The laziness in Diskant’s expression vanished and he grasped her hand in a move that was faster than she expected. “You could listen to them telepathically? Why didn’t you tell me?”
She didn’t struggle, meeting his angry gaze head-on. “When did I have a chance to, lover? On the bike when you couldn’t hear me over the motor? Outside when I was terrified to come in here? Or how about in the office when I was pinned between you and the wall?”
A soft chuckle from Nathan wasn’t enough of a distraction to tear her eyes away from Diskant. He was fuming, lips thinned and eyes changing colors. She had to wall up her mind so she didn’t intrude on his thoughts any longer. The fun and excitement she’d experienced was replaced by cold, hard reality. She hadn’t thought about what an invasion of privacy it was before. Now she intuitively realized he was certain to ask just how liberal she’d been with her talent.
“I wasn’t trying to keep it from you,” she added softly and he immediately loosened his grip, ditching the frown. “There wasn’t an opportunity to tell you until now.”
“Are you having a private conversation? Or can anyone join in?” Trey asked with a distinguishable amount of strained humor.
“Either way, they’d better hurry,” Nathan added tersely. “Everyone’s arriving.”
Ava glanced past Diskant as he turned in the seat and stared at the window. An assembly line of cars and motorcycles crowded the street.
“Tell me what you know, Ava mine.” Diskant rotated, his focus solely on her. “How many were there?”
“The five outside and however many they could fit inside a van.”
“I’d say that means there are nine or ten, tops,” Trey said. “They’re not here for a cleansing and any more than that is likely to draw attention.” He rested his elbows on the table, lowering his voice. “The pack could wipe them out in a single shot. All we need is the opportunity.”
Ava gasped as Diskant wrapped his arm around her, pulled her into his lap, and turned his back to the room. “If you do that, you can’t tell any of the packs or prides what you’re planning. They can’t find out until the threat is gone and there isn’t anything to bitch about. If you fuck this up they’ll be out for blood. Your head will be the one they want gracing the plate since you’re the Alpha in charge.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“What’s your plan?”
“We hand Emory over, follow them from a distance and use eyes that can’t be seen to make sure they don’t vanish while we’re not looking. We’ll have to make sure to take them out before they cross state lines, so we’ll need a distraction.”
“Who’ve you got in mind?”
“Aldon Frost owes me a favor. I’m going to call on him to collect.”
“A vampire? You’re going to ask a leech for help?” Diskant snarled and Ava pressed her hand over the crazed beating of his heart, attempting to calm him. “Have you forgotten that blood drinkers attacked my mate?”
“Technically, she wasn’t your mate yet. Now that she is you know they wouldn’t take the risk.”
“I want an explanation.” Diskant’s demand didn’t brook room for argument. “Or I can’t help you.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged.”
The voices inside the bar hushed and Ava was aware that a large group of shifters were entering the establishment. The energy in the room changed, the atmosphere becoming oppressive and heavy. When she tried to move off Diskant’s lap he tightened his hold, making his intention clear. With or without telepathy, she knew he wanted to clearly state who and what she was to him, providing a very public and possessive display that all the guests would recognize.
“Yes or no,” Trey said briskly. “Contemplation is over. I need your answer.”
Diskant cradled Ava in his arms and met the level stare of his pack mate. This was some serious fucking shit. As an Omega, he wasn’t supposed to place himself or his interests into the middle of anything concerning shifter business. That was why he was always respected despite being born into a wolf shifter pack. The bonds were still evident, especially when you studied his habits and closest friends, but there was never any question of his loyalty.
Trey’s tone conveyed his desperation. “What’s it going to be?”
He glanced at Emory, taking note of the alarming changes that had overtaken the once proud, dangerous and powerful Alpha. His eyes were crazed, his appearance unkempt and his behavior odd. It happened when a shifter found his or her mate and was forced to deny the connection. In Diskant’s case, it had been easier to mask his longing for Ava during her absence as he could take relief from all of the packs, relying on their strength and calm. Emory, however, was a lone wolf without anyone beneath him to shoulder the burden.
If it had been five weeks since he’d seen Mary, he was likely going mad.
“I want an explanation from the vampire and your word that if the shit hits the fan you’ll take care of Emory. He’s on the brink, Trey. I can’t risk having a crazed wolf in the city.”
“Done.”
Trey’s eyes shifted to the area behind his shoulder, alerting him into the fact that they were no longer alone. Diskant knew the breeds of those approaching by the various beasts inside him who answered the call, all of which were four-footed, feline predators, which he expected. When it came to shifter breeds, two species were prominent—feline and canine. Those were the two that held most sway in things, including snafus such as this. Taking that into account, it was too dangerous for the birds of prey, reptiles or scavengers to show themselves. In a hand-to-hand scuffle they didn’t bring much to the table, and things could quickly become deadly. More than likely they’d make an appearance later in the evening, when the crowds died down, or appeal for a private audience.
Trey sat back and Diskant turned, keeping Pinkie seated firmly on his lap, his hand possessively placed across the vulnerable softness of her stomach. She fidgeted for a moment before she settled against him, so tiny in his embrace that her head was nestled comfortably beneath his chin.
The Alpha and Betas for the New York prides entered—jaguar, leopard, cheetah, lion, tiger, panther and lynx—identifiable by their sleek, elegant gaits. Unlike humans, their hair wasn’t simple blonds, browns, or blacks. They retained the same hair color as the cat they shifted into, and the best dye job in the world could only hide their natural tresses until their next shift. Unlike the wolves, they weren’t loud or brash. The cat shifters were refined, cunning and arrogant. Their expensive, tailored clothing was rich and lush, the materials intentionally chosen to allow range of movement.
One broke away from the group, taller and more distinct than the rest and, if the feline Alphas in the vicinity were being honest, the most powerful.
Kinsley MacGregor, a sixth-generation black panther, or if one wanted to be technical, one of the rarest breeds of puma in the world. Of all the feline shifters, Kinsle
y was the one Diskant knew and trusted most. He was always honest, fair, and managed to keep the rest of the Alphas in line. His raven black hair fell to his shoulders, offsetting his bright, emerald green eyes. For a second those jeweled irises flicked to Pinkie, but very smartly, and respectfully, turned the fuck away. Like the other cats, he was swathed in leather from hip to toe—his being black instead of tan or white—although his shirt was of the casual, white button-down variety.
“What news do you bring, Omega?” His accent, though faded by the years spent in the States, was heavy. His thick, twin brows came together as he stopped a foot away from the table, blocking out the roomful of shifters behind him.
No sense in delaying the inevitable.
“Shepherds are in town. They’re responsible for the missing shifters. The bodies are down in a warehouse in Red Hook.”
Kinsley didn’t mince words or waste time. “Who’s to blame for their visit?”
“It’s not necessary to reveal that.” Diskant kept Ava where she was when she wriggled her lush little ass against him and tried to move. Like this—seated in a bar amongst his pack, with his mate in his lap—he appeared at ease with his decision. Placing her where he wanted her most—in another, safer location—would only send out warning signals. “I’m asking you to take my word that it’s under control.”
“Which is a roundabout way of saying it’s a wolf matter,” Kinsley retorted wryly and nailed Emory with a seething glare. “Considering he’s back in town, why am I not surprised?”
“I need your backing on this,” Diskant continued as the remaining pride members came to the table, the implication clear. All of the cats trusted and supported Kinsley, who was older than most of them by several hundred years. If he supported Diskant’s decision, they would quickly fall in line. Cats weren’t as nitpicky about who got the job done, so long as it was done to their satisfaction.
