by KH LeMoyne
That resolution was easier than she’d expected.
The cloud of tension dissipated as Trim crouched by the backpack and dug through the contents. She laid out several plastic grocery bags on the ground. “This is all Breslin could scrounge on short notice. Bread, cheese, peanut butter, and—” She glanced at Matthew and then Trevor, who was rubbing the sleep from his eyes with growing interest at the last item. “Shanae always loved peanut butter. I just figured.”
Perhaps stunned by the woman’s uncharacteristic display of consideration, Matthew opened his mouth several times, but nothing came out. Then he set Trevor on the ground. The boy knelt beside the backpack, eyeing the food.
Deacon crouched as well and grabbed several pieces of bread. He slathered peanut butter on one large slice before ripping it and handing Trevor half. Matthew and Wharton settled down as well, fishing through the contents and assembling a quick lunch.
Sandwich in hand, Lena waited until everyone was nearly finished and glanced toward Deacon. Now came the harder sell. One her gut compelled her to voice. “Can I bring up another point?”
Trim waved her hand. “By all means, solve away.”
“I’d feel right about us continuing along the river if I knew Shanae personally or if she wasn’t—”
Deacon’s brow lifted. “Part wolf?”
“I can’t ignore that factor. It might make the difference in finding her.” He stared at her with a shuttered gaze, waiting. She plowed ahead despite the chill washing over her. “I believe Trim is right. We should try the higher paths. Worst case, we lose some hours. Best case, we either find a trail or can rule out that option and resume searching here.”
Trim rocked back and forth in her crouch, eyeing the half-eaten apple in her hand, evidently taken off guard. Her mouth worked, but she remained silent and stored the leftovers. Lena felt an odd camaraderie as they waited on the decision. She didn’t doubt Trim would make a formidable ally. Shanae was lucky to have such a devoted friend, though she wondered what would drive the two apart.
Eyes closed with his lips pressed tight, Deacon let out a sigh. Finally, he looked around, pausing at Lena, and then moving on to Trim. “I’m not sure what’s more terrifying, when you two go at each other or when you agree.” He wadded up the remains of his napkin and shot it into the opening of the backpack. “Higher ground it is.”
Lena didn’t wait for a reaction but followed Trim’s retreating figure.
Deacon clasped his hands behind his neck, stretched his head toward the sky, and drew a deep breath. The icy breeze rippling against his jacket barely registered. Clouds spun above, and he waited for the tremor beneath. Like all the other times today he’d extended his energy and sought for a signature matching Shanae’s, nothing echoed back to him.
Holding back regret, he made his way down the rock face to the others. They’d pushed hard all afternoon. Matthew’s face bore bleak lines of exhaustion, his mouth in a perpetual downturn of worry. Only a quick forced neutrality for Trevor tempered his actions.
The rest were painfully quiet. Wharton had attached himself to father and son. His effort to bolster them flagged as the day drew on.
Trim and Lena worried him the most. Despite their initial animosity, they’d driven themselves physically until both dragged. Failure wasn’t in either woman’s repertoire, the search weighing on them as if they sought the few survivors in a field of the dead.
He understood Trim’s commitment. She’d survived her brutal orphan childhood. Deacon’s father had paid little attention to the hybrid offspring of a wolf father and a human mother who’d abandoned her, Trim’s status only one notch higher than those of lesser hybrid species. Trim’s rotation from household to household fulfilled the alpha’s obligation to provide for a child’s food and lodging, but didn’t foster a bright mind or ensure a stable support system. The result—the difficult adjustments and lack of grounding that many human children in foster homes experienced. Trim’s one link had been her friendship with Shanae, a bond that extended to long before Shanae’s decision to leave and attend college, much less to her choice in marrying a human. Both decisions contributed to several circumstances that had left Trim emotionally bereft.
His first encounter with her after he returned to Black Haven and claimed his alpha title had revealed a ruthless survivor. Her keen investigation skills and salt-and-vinegar personality hid a deep-seated need to push every aggressor until they merited her trust. She’d survived his father’s rule without a forced mating by using her wits. She’d begrudgingly fought by Deacon’s side against the few lingering traitors until she’d determined his actions supported his promises.
However, he tolerated no one on his team using other people as their emotional punching bag. On the other hand, Lena displayed an instinctive understanding for the importance of not backing down before a shifter, but he didn’t want animosities escalated to such a level.
Surprisingly, today’s synergy instead of discord drove both women together in their search for Shanae. Unbidden, a low hum of satisfaction escaped him.
Trim glance his way with a puzzled look, but he shrugged aside her unspoken question and looked around surreptitiously, curious about what both women were up to.
Lena gestured toward the cliff’s edge with one of Matthew’s toys as Trevor poked in the dirt at her feet, his father a pensive statue behind him.
Trim gestured farther along the path and headed forward.
At a low call from Lena, Deacon focused back along their original path where she now crouched in the brush by the rocky edge.
“What did you find?”
“I’m not sure it’s anything, but there’re a lot of broken limbs, freshly turned soil here, and…” She glanced down the slope squinting. “There are—smudges.” She lowered her voice and jerked her chin in that direction. “Marks heading down the cliff and going into the woods there.”
Trim returned beside him and stared at the location over Lena’s shoulder. “That’s blood. I’ll need to check and see if it’s—” She stopped as a rumble echoed behind the three of them.
Wharton’s wolf stood, tossing his head, shielding Matthew and Trevor, reminding everyone that innocent ears listened to every word.
Trim nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see what I can find, but the sun’s setting in an hour or so.”
“We could pitch camp here.” Lena frowned and exhaled slowly.
Her sallow complexion worried Deacon, as well as her slightly labored breathing and fatigue. She’d hidden her exhaustion, but a shifter could detect even faint conditions, and he couldn’t risk her health. So they’d stop for the night. He rose and assisted Lena to her feet.
Trim let out a sigh as she searched the tree canopy below. “I think it’s safe to say we’ve scoured this area. We should head back and put equal coverage below. We’re better off camping part of the way down.” Trim’s gaze flicked to Trevor and back. “A copse near the mountain’s edge should protect us from the colder weather coming in. Closer to fresh water too.”
Lena nodded but appeared less than pleased they were reverting to her suggestion of searching the river.
His own concerns echoed Lena’s silent ones. A water search meant little chance of finding Shanae alive, but he gestured for Trim to go ahead. “We’ll all head down and find a location near that second rock landing. I don’t want us too close to the river. Others can mask their scent too easily with the water. Join us when you’re finished.”
“Got it.” Trim turned and shifted. The gold-red flicker of her tail disappeared through the brush.
Lena stared after her wistfully. “That never gets old.” She winced as she struggled over a large tree limb. “Don’t you dare tell her I said so, but the shifting is—well, almost magical to watch.”
“Glad we can provide entertainment.” Deacon grasped her elbow, steadying her, and then eyed the rest of the group. “Let’s get moving. I’ll take first watch after we set up camp. Wharton, you stay with the group.”
/> The journey down took less time than the one up, with Trim remaining noticeably absent. The others had a fire going by the time she appeared. Deacon needed only her lowered eyes and a brief shake of her head to get a general impression of the problem. No sign of Shanae, though the blood had been hers. Something he couldn’t keep from the others for long. With everyone’s nerves raw, maybe the less said now, the better.
“Trim, get hold of Brindy,” he said quietly. “Make sure she has the helicopter ready at a moment’s notice and the staff on standby at the hospital.
Unfortunately, Matthew overheard and sank to the ground beside Trevor. A deflated man if ever Deacon saw one. Lena knelt beside him, one hand on his shoulder, and whispered quietly.
Not quietly enough for Deacon’s ears.
“It’s proactive planning. You know this. You’ve watched soldiers in the field when you’ve demoed your tools. I’m sure they always have backup and contingency plans ready. My teams did too.”
He nodded.
Lena glanced up and met Deacon’s gaze across the fire. Her background, her experience—all showed in her subdued acknowledgment and the deepening lines around her mouth. She was as worried as he was. Time was running out.
Lena’s eyes burned, but she’d be damned if she was falling asleep before Deacon came back from his shift. The man was more stoic than a statue, and she had questions she needed answered.
That he had taken off her shirt and cleaned her wounds had been embarrassing. Especially with his intense golden stare revealing more than a passing interest. “I cut the fabric from your body and cleansed your wounds. Then I checked for infection, delivered a dose of antibiotic, applied ointment, and bandaged and covered any intimate areas before Matthew returned with new clothing.”
The fire in his eyes and the subtle tilt of his lips still sent a tremor through her. Intimate areas indeed. Her shredded bra had gone the way of her shirt, and his heated look implied he remembered everything he’d seen.
His recounting still didn’t explain how she’d woken up covered in Deacon’s jacket and much healthier than her injuries should have allowed. More importantly, she had questions about his people. Ones she’d never asked any of her teammates. Ones she’d pondered in the many long nights since she’d left the park service.
The shifters of her past had quietly sidestepped and sometimes intentionally ignored her efforts to glean information. Somehow, she knew Deacon would give her the truth.
A tiny suspicion warned her she might not want to know those answers. An echoing one warned that her increasing attraction to Deacon Black bypassed impartial objectivity. The lingering warmth of his hands and the weight of his stare as she’d worked today were hard to shake. Worse, she’d enjoyed his attention. Never a needy person, she still found Deacon’s unique brand of watchfulness strangely compelling.
Wharton and Trim took turns by the fire. Unfortunately, it was Trim she had to ask to wake her when Deacon returned.
“If he comes back tonight.”
The response was grudging, but she doubted Trim would openly defy her request to speak with—what was he anyway? Team leader. Family head. Alpha. The title had slipped from Trim some time earlier in a moment of fury, before she could bite back her words. Attuned to all slips and mutters, Lena locked it in her memory to puzzle out later.
True to Trim’s gruff answer, Deacon hadn’t returned.
Wincing with stiffness several hours later, Lena finally stood to walk off her aches. Two more hours until dawn, and peace and rest fled farther with each problem she considered. Before she realized it, she’d reached the rock overhang. Deacon sat on a rise of boulders, arm draped over one knee as if he was doing nothing more than taking in the moonlit scenery. It didn’t require instinct to know that wasn’t the case. Energy ebbed and flowed from him like a slow-rolling tide.
“Hasn’t your shift ended?”
His eyes gleamed as they slid toward her. “Not until we succeed.”
“You’ll be pretty tired by then,” she said with a smile to ruffle his defenses. “Unless you have a special way to find her?” She waved her hand to stop his response and cringed as the scabs pulled in twinges of fire across her back.
“I have you here to help me. Come here, you’re in pain.”
Not willing to focus on herself, she shook her head. “I meant your—power. You tied Trevor to your clan. It seems logical you’d have a connection with Shanae.”
He arched his head back, the moonlight illuminating him in sharp relief, strong cheekbones and full lips tempting her. For a minute, she thought perhaps he’d refuse an answer. Then he opened his eyes and stared at her, extending a hand to her. “Join me. I’ll try to explain.”
Caution reared first, but curiosity won. When Lena reached him, he’d shifted higher, vacating a seat for her between his legs. An intimate position. One she wasn’t certain she had the strength or desire to fight if the situation escalated. The raw desire he didn’t bother to hide provoked a rush of heat and energy absent minutes earlier.
Lips curling into a smile, he motioned again. More insistently this time. “I’m offended you think I would force myself on you in the cold darkness of these mountains. I promise to keep my attentions appropriate.”
She sucked in a breath. He could read minds.
His low chuckle circled around her on the soft night breeze. “You’re easy for me to read, Lena. I’m also certain Matthew let you know I had ample time and access to molest you earlier if my goal was to ravish you. I prefer a conscious and willing partner.”
As one brow lifted and he grinned, delicious goose bumps rose on her skin. Matthew’s whispers during the morning recounted Deacon’s intimate and unusual handling of her wounds. She originally suspected his accusation of licking originated from the hysteria of the night. Now the thought built a strange tightness in her belly, and in the silver moonlight, she could easily envision Deacon setting his wolf nature free to save her.
Matthew had watched her like a hawk all day, even forcing her to stop so he could check for fever, anticipating an onset of rabies or lycanthropy, no doubt. She couldn’t tell whether he’d been relieved or disappointed to find nothing. By sunset, she’d believed Matthew’s story.
Licked by an alpha shifter. “You’re not contagious, are you? I mean wolves—it’s not like—” Oh what a botched train of thought. She’d said it aloud. Deacon only laughed, and she shrugged her good shoulder. “Sorry. Injury brings out my worst side.”
“A defensive and curious side. Both become you. We are born shifters, not transformed. You will remain an exceptional human for the rest of your life.” He held his hand out again.
Squeezing back her embarrassment, she knelt cautiously between his legs. The struggle to turn and avoid brushing her wounds against him was harder than she’d anticipated. He guided her hips, then eased her good shoulder against his thigh and her head against his knee. Together they faced the gulf spanning this peak and the next.
“I promise you that pursuing what is between us will be your call,” he whispered.
Not convinced that he intended to leave her in peace as his fingers played with her hair, she muffled a laugh. “Seduction is a form of coercion.”
“Only fair. Your form of coercion, just being in plain sight, is subtle but no less effective.” His palm brushed across the crown of her head.
A cottony wave of comfort followed his touch. Tender and light, the rough pads of his fingers slid deeper into her hair and pressed against her scalp. She couldn’t imagine enduring, much less enjoying, this treatment from anyone else. There lay the crux of what existed between them. Deacon wasn’t anyone else, and she wanted him.
Biting her lip to fight a sigh, she forced herself to concentrate on the job. Fragments of this mission were falling into place, but she still had more holes than answers with Deacon Black holding the key to the largest pool of secrets.
“So—can you reach her?”
“Not yet.”
Th
e soothing rubbing continued lower now, from the base of her neck and back up. Lena closed her eyes, drifting beneath the sensations. “What do you feel of her?”
“The answer isn’t that simple. You need perspective to understand. I maintain a bond with each of the people in my clan. They are part of the whole that I feel. I carry those connections inside me. Each is singular, distinct.”
“Can you isolate them inside the whole?”
He grunted a soft acknowledgment. “Shanae’s essence exists in the web of the family. Despite the fact that she is physically closer than the others, I perceive her at the fringes. Like a spot in a crowd where I can’t quite focus on her.”
“Could you touch her before, when you left the ranger station?”
“Yes.”
“It was stronger then?”
“No. It has only grown stronger since your arrival.”
“Have you ever seen creatures like the ones who attacked me before?” She’d been wanting to ask since the night of the fight, but finding Shanae had taken priority.
He was silent for a moment and then shook his head. “They are mutants, without our normal coordination or the ability to fully shift. A cruel abomination. I will need to track down their origins and eliminate the threat. For my people and yours.”
Breathing past the hard lump in her throat, Lena bent her face to Deacon’s denim. The scent of him was stronger there, an earthy tantalizing pull invading more than her nostrils. He also provided a refuge against the worry swelling with each analysis of Shanae’s situation. Though he was wrong about her influence on his powers. He had to be.
Warm and large, his hands delivered a balm. Stroking from her hip bone and up her spine, he spread heat and comfort, a physical shield against her desperation. Her pain had even disappeared somewhere in the midst of his treatment. Whatever the total of his alpha skills, for her, comfort ranked as a pleasant benefit. One she suspected should require clan membership to benefit from. He avoided her wounds, and the prickles of fire plaguing her earlier became a memory.
