by Olivia Arran
“Huh. They sound batshit crazy to me.” Then it hit me. “Are you a—?”
“No!” She bit her lip, tugging at the skin. “I mean, when my father was alive he made sure we followed the purist law, but since he died … well, we survived and there’s not always room for ideals, you know? And then they fade, and you can’t remember why they were important in the first place, but they’re still there, in my head, hanging on and defining the world with lines that you never knew were there in the first place.” She sounded bitter, as though she’d had a wake-up call recently, which I supposed she had, coming to Heartsridge.
I had to ask. “They haven’t asked—?” I cleared my throat, trying again, “You haven’t—”
A wry smile, more of a grimace that made my heart twist. “No. They disappeared after my parents died. Stopped coming around.”
A noise at the doorway, then, “Because I told them I’d rip their heads off if they came anywhere near my family again after what they did to my daughter.” Granny stood, hands on hips, pain blazing in her eyes. “Them and their no good ways killed my girl, your father too, though he had his own hand in his death. But my girl didn’t deserve it, so I told them to stay clear.”
“Granny!” Mina’s gasp told me everything. She hadn’t known.
The older lady shuffled into the kitchen, taking in the still sodden flood with a single glance. “I didn’t want you ending up going the same way, Mina.”
Standing, I gave her my arm, helping her over the puddles until she was safely secured in a chair. “How did you warn them off?” It sounded farfetched, the thought of a group of rogues listening to the warning of an old lady.
She chuckled, the sound rumbling up from her chest and making her wrinkles dance. “I didn’t. I gave them a name and they ran scared.”
Mina leaned forward. “Whose name?”
A scary smile spread over her face, lifting the years for a moment. “Michael’s.”
I wasn’t any less confused. I looked between the women, taking in Mina’s small smile of understanding. “Who is Michael?”
She turned to me with a happy smile.
Whoever he was, I wanted to suckerpunch the fucker for putting that smile on her face just by thinking his name.
“You must have heard of him. He’s the leader of the rogues.”
Chapter Sixteen
Mina
I walked Cade to the door, following him outside and pulling it closed behind me. Concern still darkened his face and I hated the fact that I’d put it there.
“I could come speak to Morris,” I offered, though I really, really, didn’t want to. I hadn’t seen him since that day in the barn. Giving him my virginity had been the worst idea of my life, something I’d only realized almost too late. I’d escaped his claiming by the skin of my teeth, telling him in no uncertain terms that there was no way in hell I was becoming his woman. Because that’s what I would have been—his woman. The little lady waiting at home, darning his socks and warming his bed. He hadn’t seen me as an equal then and I wouldn’t imagine that time had changed him much, not with his father setting the kind of example he had. Not once during our fumbled kisses and naive exploration had he even bothered to make sure I was ready for him. Not like Cade, who’d wrung more pleasure out of me with his hands and mouth than Morris had during the whole event.
No. I really didn’t want to have to face him, but I would. If it would erase the worry clouding Cade’s face.
He caught my hands, lifting them to his mouth. Hot breath tickled over my skin as he grazed my knuckles with his lips, the stubble on his jaw scratching and soothing. “We’ll find another way.” There was a finality in his voice. “Carter and Jake are working them over now. I would lay money on them singing by the time I get back.” His voice had dipped to a low growl, the gravelly undertone wreaking havoc with my senses.
Did he know what he did to me? The events of the last hour flooded back to me, the feel of his fingers deep inside my core, his tongue rasping across my—
Yes. He knew what he did to me.
“What now?” A question that he could take many different ways.
He released my hands after turning them over and pressing a final kiss to my palms. “I’ve got work tonight, but I was thinking that tomorrow night I could take you out?” An easy smile accompanied his words, but I wasn’t fooled. He was sweating, worried that I might blow him off. Again.
“Sounds good,” I murmured, still not sure what the hell I was doing, but getting to the point where I was past caring. I felt alive for the first time in years, my body awake and yearning for one thing, and only one thing. Him. Not to mention that all this talk of purist nonsense had reminded me of how much I’d despised the men that had come calling on my father, hated how he’d acted after spending time with them. How strict and unbreakable he’d been after their discussions, brooding for days about something that I now realized we had absolutely no control over.
Leona was human—and showed no sign of wanting to change that fact, since her mate hadn’t gone full on furry and bitten her, which was the only way to change a human into a shifter—and she was mated to an alpha.
Julie was an ocelot and happily mated to a wolf.
Life wasn’t as simple as I’d been raised to believe.
“Okay,” I repeated, sliding my arms around his neck and yanking him down. This time I stole his breath, reaching up onto my tiptoes and pressing our lips together. Winding my fingers into his hair and tugging him closer. Drinking in his deep groan and pressing harder, teasing him with my tongue and lips, until he melted, his wall of resistance crumbling as he pressed me back against the door, his hips pinning me, the large bulge in his jeans grinding against where I needed him the most.
Footsteps sounded behind the door, coming closer.
We broke away on a gasp and I was relieved to see his chest struggling as much as mine as it rose and fell in shuddery breaths.
“Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up after you finish work. 6pm,” he said, backing away up the path, before turning and striding away. At the end of the street he glanced back, his eyes finding me still frozen to the spot. A satisfied smile ghosted across his lips.
I snuck back into the house, wanting to boycott the kitchen but remembering the puddles of water. Hard work would keep my mind off things, I decided. Though I couldn’t bury my head in the sand all day; I had until tomorrow to decide if I wanted to throw my rulebook out of the window.
That’s if it was still an actual decision. If Granny hadn’t come home when she had, I’d have said yes to anything. I smothered a snort, plucking up the mop and pushing it halfheartedly around the floor. Two orgasms and I was a goner.
No. Two mind-blowing orgasms and I was a goner.
There. I felt much better about my complete lack of self control. What woman in her right mind would be able to resist a man who would take care of her every need?
Not this one.
Chapter Seventeen
Cade
“What did I miss?”
Nate took one look at me and started laughing. Clutching the wall kind of laughing.
I ground to a halt, surveying our rec room. Austin and Brent slouched in chairs. Jake was nowhere to be seen. “What?” He had two seconds to spit it out or I was pounding his ass.
He seemed to realize this, closing his mouth with a snap. He sniffed the air with a deliberate air. “Someone had a good time today—”
Fuck waiting, I was pounding his ass now. We slammed into the wall with enough force to have my bones rattling.
Hands ripped me off Nate before I had a chance to rearrange his smirk, Austin’s voice coming over my shoulder in an easy drawl that did little to mask his ire, “You’re going to get yourself fucking killed one of these days, Nate.”
Nate shook himself off, yanking his shirt back into place. “I can’t help it if he walks in here smelling like desperation.”
My snarl ripped its way out of me and I’d dragged Austin two step
s across the room before he dug his heels in. “Easy there, big guy,” he muttered into my ear, patting my shoulder as I shook him off, eventually letting me go.
“What is your fucking problem?” I snapped at Nate, stomping over to the couch and making myself sit my ass down. I expected it from Jake, but Nate usually gave a shit.
Nate looked away, avoiding my searching stare, but not before I saw the emotion sliding across his eyes.
“Shit. You’re fucking jealous!”
“Fuck you.”
I pointed at him, cocking my finger like a gun and pretended to shoot him. “You fucking are!”
“Children,” Austin ground out, dragging a hand over his pained expression. Brent pointed at Nate, then the seat next to me. Nate chose the couch arm.
The first fucking sensible thing he’d done in weeks. The man was on a mission of self destruction and no one had a damn clue why.
Austin rearranged his face into a scowl, dragging a folder across the small table and flicking it open. “Every team has a copy of this. Memorize these dossiers and keep your eyes and ears open.” He passed around the loose sheets of paper.
Basic was the first thought that came to mind. Names, plus eye and hair color, ballpark heights and general descriptions. I scanned the first sheet, passing it on to Brent. “Is this all we’ve got?”
Austin flexed his hands, then curled them back into fists. “We’re still working on more answers, but they’re not very … forthcoming.” His scowl was all teeth.
“I have some information.” I filled him in on what Mina had told me. “Any idea who this Michael guy is?”
Austin sat back, the chair straining under his weight as he stroked his chin. “I’ve heard rumors but thought it was just that.”
Nate shook his head. “I’ve never heard a whisper about the rogues being organized. Sounds like pie in the sky to me.”
Only Brent stayed silent.
I swung my attention to him. “You heard of this guy?”
He pressed his lips together, then shrugged. “Maybe.” Tugging on his hair, he let his hand fall. “It might not be the same guy.”
“What makes you think it might be?” Austin pressed.
“Because the Michael I knew had a savior complex nearly as fucking big as his need to hate himself.”
“Sounds like an interesting guy.”
Brent met my eyes and I could see the pain ricocheting around inside his head. “He was—is. I’m kinda hoping he’s not our guy, though.”
It was Nate who had the balls to ask, “Why?”
A long suffering sigh, then, “Because the Michael I know is my brother.”
Shit. That explained a lot about why Brent was a glass half empty kind of guy. His brother might be the king of the rogues. Sorry, leader. Whatever. But, hey, at least this way—
“Go see Carter and bring him up to speed,” Austin said. “Both of you.”
Brent rose from the chair. “If it is him then I’m the one who has to go.”
Our alpha glared at Brent, then nodded. “See what Carter says.”
The sound of flesh thwacking against flesh hit our ears long before we got to our destination, along with the sight of Carter leaned up against the doorframe, his shirt rumpled and face haggard. Gone was the sophisticated politician, groomed and polished, and in its place stood the barbarian, stripped back and as real as any one of us. A lighter rolled between his fingers, flicking back and forth and catching the light.
He didn’t glance up until our boots were in his line of sight. “Nothing new.” It was a growl for patience.
“Let us speak to him.” Once again, I recounted Mina’s revelation and Carter’s scowl twisted into a sick kind of smile.
“Be my guest,” he muttered, sweeping his hand toward the open door.
The sight that greeted us was a hell of a lot more civilized than I’d expected. Jake stood between the two men, stripped to the waist, his back gleaming with sweat and a manic smile on his face. Expected. What I hadn’t expected was that the two men would still be conscious and in full possession of their faculties. That was until I drew closer and my eyes picked up on the little hints that they’d refused to see at first, the tiny slices decorating the two men, hundreds of them dripping blood onto the floor. And the panic in their eyes, clouded with pain, but fresh enough to still fill the air with the acrid stench of fear. Jake had gone full blown psycho and looked into their eyes, let them see it.
Fuck. I was surprised they hadn’t passed out.
Wrenching Morris’ lolling head up by the hair, Jake whispered in his ear, his voice too low for even my ears to catch. The man’s eyes rolled, his bound hands flapping like trapped birds scrambling to take flight, his voice thin and reedy as he wailed. “I don’t know anything else!”
“Michael.” One word. One name. Morris stopped breathing.
Interest lit Jake’s eyes as he stroked a claw down Morris’ exposed throat. “Who is Michael?”
I could feel Brent tense behind me, his worry thick and tangible on the air. He was clinging to the small hope that this Michael wasn’t his brother.
Morris opened his mouth. “Michael—”
The other man snarled. “Don’t you fucking—”
My fist slammed into his jaw, shutting him up. He slumped in his chair, out like a light.
Jake smirked at me. “Thanks.” His attention back on his prisoner, he tightened his grip. “Now, where were we? Hmmm? You were saying?”
Morris shook himself, seeming to recover a scrap of the bluster he’d come in with. “Michael O’Casey is nobody to us now. You can have him. He’s a traitor to the cause, just like you,” he spat out with enough lack of heat that I instantly believed him.
I towered over him. “The cause? You mean purists?”
Morris blinked long and slow, and for a second I thought he was going to pass out on me. Jake must have thought so too, because he slapped him. Hard.
His eyes snapped open, fixing on me with a look of hatred so pure, I had no question in my mind. He knew who I was. What I was. Where I’d come from. “You’ve been speaking to Mina.”
I leaned closer, bracing my arms on both sides of his chair, wanting to get under his skin, to make him loose control and slip up. This man believed she was his. “Take a deep breath, asshole. I’ve been doing a lot more than speaking to Mina.”
His teeth snapped together as he lunged for me, only Jake’s hand in his hair held him back from attacking me with a chair attached to his ass.
“It’s him.” Brent’s voice cut through the bullshit, slicing it clean in two. He indicated the still raging man hanging on the end of Jake’s arm. “Michael O’Casey, he said.”
“He’s not one of them, though.”
“We’ll see.” Brent stalked out of the room.
“What the fuck is going on?” Jake demanded, almost absentmindedly squeezing the side of Morris’ neck. Morris slumped forward, his face going slack.
I blinked. What the fuck? “Carter will fill you in,” I replied, filing away Jake’s apparently new skill set.
He followed me out of the room, blocking the corridor. “You fill me in.”
The door swung shut with a bang, a lock clicking closed. Carter pocketed the keys, pushing through our little party and striding away. We glanced at each other, then followed.
“Everyone will be filled in. Grab your team. My office in ten minutes,” he called over his shoulder, slamming the door to his office shut in our faces.
Now, where the fuck had Brent disappeared to?
We caught Brent on his way out of the building, cornered him like a savage animal and forced him back to the safety of the rec room. He wasn’t happy and it showed, from the strain of his shoulders bunching under his shirt to the death glare he was transmitting to the entire room. This was a new side of Brent, one we’d never had the good fortune to meet before, and I was torn between telling him to knock it off and offering to go out hunting with him.
Jake was all a
bout the hunting. “Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll bring your brother home.” It was an offer, not a very well thought out one, though. “I’ll even put a fucking bow on him.”
“Jake.” Austin’s voice carried my own thoughts—if Brent wanted to kill him, we were done intervening.
“Your brother—”
“We’re estranged.”
“Okay. Michael O’Casey isn’t a purist. So what, he’s a rogue? There’s plenty of them out there that are harmless.”
“Didn’t you hear? He’s their leader.” Brent wasn’t about to let himself be talked around. “I know who Michael is, who he really is. I know what he believes, too. If he’s got people listening to him then shit’s about to get real.”
“Shit already got real,” Nate muttered.
We headed to Carter’s office, squeezing in to the crowded space. I laid a hand on Brent’s shoulder, trying to offer … something. Sympathy? Strength? Fuck if I knew. He nodded, then shrugged my hand away.
The room buzzed with chatter, growls and snarls bouncing around as people got angry.
Carter took control, banging his hand against his desk. Beside him, Miss Lockett jumped, a crack appearing in her calm facade. She must have either discovered Carter’s subterfuge, or he’d given up on trying to hide it from her. Either way, she was here, judging us. Watching us. Reporting to her government.
It was giving me a fucking headache. Carter too, from the tension around his eyes.
Carter filled in the room on everything that the prisoners had spilled, then I stood and retold Mina’s story for what felt like the hundredth time. Then Brent had his turn.
Iesha’s pen flew over her notepad, recording our words for prosperity. Or for our fucking tombstones.
“So, there’s two groups of rogues. Purists and Michael’s group.”
“Let’s call them rogues. Normal rogues,” Zane offered.
Carter inclined his head in agreement. “Okay, purists and rogues. Simplistically, the purists think humans are inferior and despise different species of shifters mixing blood, which makes everyone here and our way of life a target. The purists have been infiltrating Heartsridge, but, to our knowledge, the rogues haven’t. Does that make Michael an ally?” His gaze turned to Brent. “Where do you think your brother stands?”
