by KH LeMoyne
With a long, low whistle, Trim leaned back. “Explains a lot.”
The boy rushed the lion and then circumvented the beast in a wide arc. Surprisingly, he avoided contact with the two bears as well. He glanced their way with a shocked expression, almost as if he’d heard their conversation.
A slow buzz crossed over Lena’s skin as an annoying crackle echoed in her ears. She shuddered as the memories of the forest attack washed over her. Swallowing against the bile rising in her throat, she looked toward the farthest edge of the field. Ferals? This couldn’t be close to the border of Deacon’s territory. Yet an ache riddled her bones in a way she couldn’t explain. She kept silent and watched.
Practice finally wound down, and the children dispersed.
By the time the lion shifted into a large lumbering male with thick blond hair and walked their way, the field was empty. Lena recognized him as Trevor’s guard during Matthew’s first hospital visit.
He kissed his wife on the cheek. “Could you determine anything?”
Lena looked away as he possessively stroked Dani’s belly and pulled closer for another kiss.
At a sharp tug on her arm, Lena turned back.
Dani’s soft blush covered her cheeks, but her eyes sparkled, and she looked anything but embarrassed. “Lena, this is my husband, Chisholm. Would you let him know what you saw?”
Lena shook her head, ridding herself of the strange normalcy of casually discussing abnormal powers. “The boy, Ford?”
Chisholm nodded.
“He has the coloring and nose of a”—she glanced around but Ford was definitely gone—“a wolverine.”
“I’ve never seen one here,” Chisholm said as he glanced at Trim for explanation.
She shrugged. “Not too many of them left. Several large families moved away before Deacon became the alpha.”
“Wolverines wouldn’t have abandoned a child,” Lena insisted. Would they?
“Doubt it. They’re as protective as any other shifter. One of Deacon’s lieutenants found Ford ten or so years ago near a burned-out farmhouse near Spokane. The bodies of the mother, father, and an older brother were all inside. Ford was brought here for safekeeping, since we couldn’t rule out that his family might have been targeted.”
“By who?” Lena hated to ask.
Trim grunted. “As much as I want to say that it was some human nutcase, we suspected it might have been shifter retribution.”
Dani’s eyebrows furrowed. “What would they have done for someone to kill their family?”
“Nothing. However, Deacon was certain none of the wolverine adults were pledged to him. So if they escaped from another territory, someone caught up with them.”
“Deacon would have protected them if they were on the run,” Chisholm added.
“Trust is hard. Presenting your family to a new alpha when you’ve fled from another one isn’t what people consider sane,” Trim said.
Sad logic, but Lena agreed. “Who handles justice for the family in a case like this?”
Chisholm slid an arm around his wife and helped her stand. “Deacon has enforcers. He eventually expects strays to pledge their oath to him, but he doesn’t require it before he’ll protect them.”
Dani gave her husband a squeeze, as if what he’d said had affected them personally.
“I suspect they would have come here eventually once they’d gained some confidence in Deacon as an alpha.” Trim slid her phone from her pocket as it buzzed. After several thumb swipes, she glanced up at Lena. “I think we should get back to the boardinghouse.”
Trim nodded to Dani and Chisholm. “Lena can get back with you later.”
Dani gave Lena an unexpected hug, drawing her husband closer with her. With a long telltale sniff, Chisholm broke into a broad smile and grasped her hand in his. “We would both be happy to talk to you any time you are free, Ms. Juarez.”
Again, the sniff gave her away. It seemed he already knew her name. They all knew who she was. She might as well have a neon sign posted on her back: THIS WOMAN HAD SEX WITH THE ALPHA!
Part of her cringed.
The small part that still believed in destiny cheered.
17
Lena rubbed her hands over her arms, dispelling the persistent buzz, and hesitated as they approached the house. Two large men rose from their seats on the front steps. They strode down the walkway one after the other, for their shoulder widths wouldn’t accommodate them side by side. Warm colors of chocolate brown and caramel shimmered beneath their skins, bear fur announcing itself to her.
Grizz brought up the rear with a scowl set in ridges on his face.
“The oldest Romald brothers,” Trim murmured as they stopped.
“Ford’s bolted.” Slightly taller, the first man nodded in her direction. He kept his scenting discreet, but she knew the minute his pupils flared, she was outed. He bowed his head toward her. “Morgan Romald, ma’am. And my brother Horatio.”
“We thought a Romald should be able to stand a bit of teasing about not shifting yet,” Horatio added as he rolled his shoulders and then slugged his brother before glancing Trim’s way. “You know how it is with the newbies.”
Grizz shouldered his way between the two. “The kid was all worked up the minute he got back from practice. Their mother felt his anxiety was way over the top.”
Trim pulled out her phone, the buzzing catching everyone’s attention. “Deacon’s picked him up heading north. Have the others meet us.”
Both Romald brothers shifted. One second they were clad in jeans and flannel shirts, the next, fur rushed over massive muscle. Lena stepped backward to offer more room. Then Grizz shifted and vaulted behind them.
The ground trembled beneath Lena’s feet as she watched the bears head off.
“Breslin will be back here in a minute.” Trim shifted in a blur of red and gold and raced toward the same point at the far end of town.
“Come, little one. You don’t belong there.” Lena spun as she picked up the wayward message. The vibrations and chills she recognized from earlier at the field. Only on the mountaintop had she ever heard the calls in her mind. This one wasn’t even directed toward her, but she heard it clearly. The ferals were calling to Ford. The boy had overheard her comment at the field and, being spooked by his rare heritage, had decided to run. Hell, he was already spooked before she added that complication to his life. She should have kept quiet.
“We are also true predators. No one can appreciate you as we will.”
The command echoed to her from the same direction as the retreating shifters, but with one part temptation and two parts acid, the voice carried no allure for her. How they were able to target Ford specifically was puzzling.
Lena shivered and rubbed her arms again. The feral leader’s voice was clear now, opting for a subtle, alluring tone to snag an unsuspecting teenager at his most vulnerable. Yet the lilt and seduction flared from Lena’s right, a call as crafted, she suspected, as any vampire who was confident their meal would respond. Since this call targeted the boy whose species Lena had openly revealed, she had only one choice.
Taking a deep breath, she swung toward the house. Breslin blocked her way, his gaze divided between her and his phone. “Why did you shiver?”
Lena rolled her shoulders. “I always get a bad feeling when the chemical misfit crew is somewhere in the wings.”
“Was Deacon told about Ford?” Breslin punched buttons on his phone, now looking at her. “No one is answering their damn cells. So I guess so.”
“Yes, though they’re headed the wrong way,” Lena said as she strode toward the house. She caught his puzzled glance as she shouldered by. “Ford’s headed toward the eastern boundary. Though they’ll probably catch him.” Or not. It didn’t matter, she had her own plan.
“How could you possibly know? Deacon’s the only one able to track us.”
“Because you’re open to him based on your voluntary pledge.” Lena stopped with a harsh exhale. What would it hurt
to let him know? She glanced over her shoulder. “You don’t have to take my word for it, but I wasn’t kidding. The ferals are waiting for Ford. From what I can sense, they’re certain he’ll obey.”
His eyes widened. Then he spun and shifted, heading in the direction she’d indicated.
Well, at least he hadn’t wasted time asking for explanations that Lena didn’t have. The how and the why of her connection to the ferals was a mystery. One she’d rather not know, since it made her nauseated to think they had the same microbits that churned inside her. But she now trusted her gut and wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number before she could change her mind.
“Ms. Juarez. What can I do for you?”
“Dr. Handleman, are you still in Black Haven? I was hoping to get a ride home with you.” She entered the house, pulled her prepped backpack from behind the front door, and headed for the dining room. The good doctor’s pause clued her in to his reluctance. Fortunately, he didn’t question her either. Must be her lucky day.
“Of course, my dear. I was just leaving. Should I come by now?”
“That would be perfect. Thank you.” She hung up and glanced over the myriad tools and gadgets Matthew had strewn across the dining room table. He’d optimized several after her test drive in the mountains. She hadn’t even tried a few yet. One by one, she picked through the choice items she could easily hide in her clothes.
She couldn’t help the shifters find Ford.
However, she could occupy the ferals long enough for Deacon and his team to save Ford. She owed the boy as much, since she’d been instrumental in causing him to run.
With one last glance around, she hoisted her backpack and headed toward the shining silver Prius crunching along the driveway.
As she made her way down the walkway, she patted her breast pocket and Matthew’s newest toy. For once, she was prepared for a fight. Hopefully her own little secret would be the deciding factor in the next few hours. Whether she survived to see Deacon’s face again, to watch his wolf run toward her in the sunlight, was beyond her control.
Faced with what she must do now, she wanted that more than she could put into words.
The scent dissipated, torn away by a strong gust of wind. The tracks on the other hand, grew deeper as the boy’s flight grew reckless. Damn, Ford was headed for the border, and at this rate, he’d cross the territory mark before any of them reached him.
Deacon doubled his speed, his paws barely touching down. Without Ford’s pledge to his alpha, Deacon’s ability to command him, much less stop him, was limited.
However he had other options, other skills.
Lightning broke the sky, shards of darkness lingering after the fracture. The wind built and snapped, whipping the fur around his face and blasting in his ears like the rush of Majestic Falls.
Mice and rabbits scurried, crisscrossing like grid lines, hopefully distracting the newly emerged shifter to hunt prey instead of fleeing across the territorial border.
The ferals’ presence vibrated in a drumbeat at the edges of Deacon’s mind. The more he closed the gap to Ford, the farther the ferals receded. Disturbing, since he retained that awareness of them until he was within sight of Ford. They must have felt the boy coming but also sensed Deacon and his team.
He drew the clouds into blistering gray formations overhead. Rain and then sleet spit across the rocks, making travel slick and dangerous, but anything to slow Ford down.
Yes, heavens, hear me. Deacon pushed himself faster.
The wolverine’s powerful claws helped him grasp tight, but the boy’s unfamiliarity with his beast betrayed him with slow movements and dangerous, unseasoned decisions.
Ford slipped from the rock at the river’s edge. Before Deacon could swipe for a grasp, the rushing water swirled him away and over the territory line. Ford’s head bobbed in the frothy white.
Deacon lunged, sucking in a breath as the sharp cold sting of the water pierced his outer coat of fur and the current dragged him down. Bigger and stronger than most of his kind regardless of his species, he wasn’t going down until he had Ford’s nape in his jaws.
Within minutes, he caught up with the struggling wolverine and clamped his teeth. Teenage muscles quivered beneath Deacon’s tongue, but he held tight until his claws ground against the pebbled riverbed.
Fortunately, Ford’s brothers greeted him at the edge and dragged the boy to land, where Trim waited.
When the wolverine struggled, Deacon’s roar shook the ground beneath them. Chasing newly shifted adolescents was one thing. Having them ignore a command to shift back to human was an entirely different matter. Whether the boy had taken an oath or not, Deacon didn’t tolerate insubordination.
Fur disappeared, replaced by flesh and shivers. Then Ford passed out.
Horatio leaned close and, with a meaty palm, smacked his brother several times on his shoulder. “Wake up.” He smiled, then shook the boy. “I want to make sure you remember the part where we found you. Because we won, and you’re our brother for life.”
Sputtering up water, Ford rolled to his side and braced on one hand, staring up at them. He blinked as if uncertain where he was.
Morgan leaned in close. “What? You thought a shift would change anything? Granted, you’re a bit ugly, but a wolverine’s nothing new, kid.” He patted himself on the chest. “We Romalds are a diverse kind of family. We like all kinds of ugly.”
Horatio bent over him. “Or do you think you’re too dangerous for our den?” He ruffled Ford’s hair, leaving it standing on end. “Nope, not too dangerous.”
Deacon started toward Ford and then dropped down on one knee, incapacitated as a raw pain robbed his breath. His power flashed through his body, a tsunami he could barely hold back. Lena had crossed the Black Haven border, awakening his wolf and his power. Their combined tug was worse than any punch he’d ever taken, a barbed-wire vise twisting around his rib cage as his brain threatened to explode.
Trim crouched beside him. He watched her gesture toward Breslin, who shifted and ran toward the entrance to Black Haven. “Lena?”
Deacon couldn’t swallow, much less speak, and his body wouldn’t respond to his commands.
“Breslin said she heard the ferals,” she said quietly, angling away from the others. “They were calling the boy.”
Deacon groaned. He should have expected this, seen it coming. With a gasp, he pressed a hand to the ground for support against the pain, forcing his skin against the earth to regain control.
Trim stayed beside him, her hand on his shoulder, her body a shield. She looked back over the path they’d taken. “If they’d been here, Ford would be gone now. He was within reach of their border for several minutes. Long enough.”
He lifted his head and blinked as he stared across the river through a murky haze. It couldn’t be fair he’d lose her to save one of his own. He’d waited so long to have her in his life. One human female, no matter how clever, wouldn’t last long against the sinister calculations of the ferals.
“Breslin will find her,” Trim continued. “We’ll—”
“No. I’ll find her.” Dragging in one harsh breath after another, Deacon struggled to relax his clenching muscles. He could tolerate the separation from his mate—barely. Even without the full ceremony of claiming, they were closely bound. No. He didn’t have time for pain. He was an alpha, damn it.
Spitting a wad of bile to the side, he raised his face to the sky. Somehow he had to find a way to break her connection to those foul creatures. Because he knew she’d resolve the situation the only way she could imagine—with direct contact and alone. That so did not work for him.
First, he’d send Ford home.
He staggered to his feet and moved to tower over the teenager. “You done with the running now, Ford? Because if you’re finished with the excitement of your first shift, I have some business I need to get done.”
The boy’s cheeks flushed red as he rolled into a
sitting position and avoided eye contact with Deacon, but he nodded.
“Good. Then I’ll expect to see you for your oath at the meeting on Friday.” Deacon exercised his last bit of patience, waiting.
Horatio delivered a mild tap to the boy’s head. “The alpha is talking to you, son.”
“Yes, sir. I mean, I’ll be there, sir.” Ford coughed and wiped his face. Then his brothers pulled him to his feet and marched him into the forest toward home.
Deacon shifted, and his wolf howled with all the ire and emptiness Lena’s absence left. As much as he hated her leaving, he understood her reasoning. Nothing could stop her from being true to herself. The strongest motivation in her life was saving people, his people. He had to find another way to help her rather than protect her.
Vendrick’s meaning rang clear now.
The rules weren’t about silence and secrets. They were about trust. About the strength required for her assuming her role as his mate, for he knew her most secret wish even if she felt it was safely tucked away. She needed to win this challenge. And come home.
He’d find a way to give her strength without wrapping her in cotton.
Desperate, he reached out across the territory border, searching. Not every shifter under Gauthier’s rule was twisted. Someone would answer the call of an alpha for help.
Instead of shifters answering, a ripple of evil resounded back. Slick and caustic, the contact made his wolf falter. He sneezed out the foul taste that invaded his mouth and nose, and shook his head, purging the memory. To hell with helping from afar.
Prepared to head in Breslin’s direction, he launched forward—and his body slammed into an invisible brick wall—at the edge of the sanctuary.
The Goddess cursed him!
Grizz paused beside him. As if not comprehending the problem, the grizzly swiped a paw to move him along.
Deacon’s power roared back, slamming into the bear and launching him twenty feet into the nearest tree. Unable to shift to human, Deacon crouched and pounded his paws into the ground. Energy circled him with painful pincers, refusing to release into the earth. He let loose a growl, snarling, his canines exposed.
