by J. D. Tyler
Just as he was now trying to seduce Kalen into joining him.
But that wasn’t his most pressing problem right this second. He felt his lip curl as he glared at Aric. From day one, the Firestarter/Telekinetic had harassed and mocked him at every opportunity. How the asshole had managed to snag an intelligent, gorgeous mate like Rowan Chase—a former LAPD cop—was beyond Kalen’s comprehension.
He tried to keep his voice even, but it betrayed his anger. “Fuck off, Aric. What goes on between me and Mackenzie is nobody’s business, especially not yours.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” the red wolf replied with a feral smile, clamping down firmly on Kalen’s shoulder. “Mac is—”
“Get your hands off me.”
Aric ignored his warning. “Mac is my friend. Everyone loves her, and none of us are going to stand by and watch you take a giant dump on her.”
Kalen barely heard the words as Aric’s face blurred. In an instant, memories assaulted him. Terrible ones, ghosts of other male hands in years gone by, many of them brutal. Taking what they wanted. And Kalen allowing the unwanted touches so he could put food in his empty, burning stomach.
Never again.
Mackenzie was the only one who had that right. Her hands were like heaven.
“Don’t touch me,” he said hoarsely. Inside, his panther stirred, rumbled in anger.
He’s the enemy, pet, Malik cajoled. Don’t you see? He’s done nothing but hurt you, laugh at you, just as all the others in the past have done. He would toss you back into the cold if he could. Do not give him your loyalty—he does not deserve it. Show him your power, boy! Do not accept this contempt from one so far beneath you! Show him what it means to fuck with a Sorcerer!
Aric’s lips were moving, but it was Malik’s words that resounded in his head. They held the ring of truth, and anger boiled into a barely concealed rage. Under his skin, overwhelming emotions writhed like snakes, grew, and exploded.
With a snarl, he brought up a forearm and broke the other man’s hold, then shoved him backward. Taken by surprise, the red wolf was unprepared when Kalen flung out a hand, palm up, and shouted a spell in Latin, releasing a blue sphere of pure energy.
The blast hit Aric in the chest and blew him off his feet, slamming him into the far wall hard enough to crack the plaster. His face registered shock as the energy hummed, spreading to his torso and limbs, causing his entire body to shake before it dispersed altogether. The man dropped to his knees, but just briefly. His head snapped up and his lips peeled back to bare his lengthening fangs.
“You wanna play dirty, kitty-cat? I can do that.”
As Aric pushed to his feet, Kalen half-expected him to shift into his wolf form. He wasn’t prepared for the other man to fling his hand out, answering Kalen’s challenge with a plume of fire that rocketed toward his face. A shriek echoed in the hallway that he identified as Mac’s frightened voice just as he brought up his hand and pushed his power at the fire, driving it back at his nemesis.
The wolf switched tactics, and the fire vanished. Before Kalen could react, he felt his body rise, feet leaving the floor. The fucker was using his gift of telekinesis to fight back, and quite effectively. Kalen’s body spun around to face away from the wolf, making it almost impossible to throw a spell at him. Then he was body-slammed into the wall, his entire right side taking the hit. Pain shot through his head and arm, and he both heard and felt a sickening snap.
“Ahhg!” Agony swept him, and he was slammed again.
“Like that, kitty?” Aric sneered. “How does that feel?”
“What the fuck is going on here?” Nick’s voice bellowed. “Savage, put him the fuck down!”
“You’re the boss.”
Kalen was unceremoniously dropped. He crumpled to the floor, trying to breathe through the terrible pain. And, as his head slowly cleared of Malik’s coercion, shame. What had he done?
Hands rolled him carefully to his back and he found himself blinking at Nick’s worried face. The commander’s gaze went to Kalen’s right arm.
“Can you lift it? Wiggle your fingers?”
He tried, and a bolt of white-hot fire shot through his arm as a cry escaped his lips. “No.”
Nick glared at Aric, who was standing off to the side, jaw clenched. “You broke his arm. You’d better have a good goddamned reason for attacking one of your own brothers.”
“First, he ain’t my brother. The others, yeah. But not that freak,” he said with undisguised contempt.
This time, the agony hit Kalen in a completely different place, and he struggled not to let it show as the man went on.
“Second, I do have a good reason. He attacked me first.”
Nick’s gaze returned to Kalen. “Is this true?”
Apparently the PreCog couldn’t “see” everything. Kalen swallowed hard. “Yes.”
A small crowd had gathered, some of the other guys muttering, one giving a low whistle. To his mortification, Mac stood with the others, looking at him in horror. Obviously she’d witnessed the whole thing.
“Why?” the commander bit off.
Such a simple question.
“Because he wouldn’t take his hands off me.” Such a sad answer.
Immediately, Nick understood and the anger began to drain from his face. “Flashback?”
“Yeah,” he whispered. The awful memories threatened to overtake him again. “All I felt was his hands and he wouldn’t let me go and I remembered . . .” He couldn’t finish. But he didn’t have to.
Finally catching on, Aric swore. To Nick, he said, “I thought he was just being a dick, especially after how he’d just talked to Mac. I didn’t know.”
Whatever Nick might’ve said was forgotten for the moment as Zander Cole, the Pack’s Healer, knelt beside Nick, forcing him to make room. “Damn, that’s a bad break. Lucky for you, I can fix it right up.” He sent Kalen an encouraging smile, which Kalen couldn’t quite return.
“If you say so.”
“I do. The bad news is I’ve got to realign the bone first or you’re going to be all crooked. Ready?”
“Do your worst.”
Lifting Kalen’s arm, Zan gave him an apologetic look. Working quickly, he pulled the injured limb with all his strength, popping the severed ends back into place. Kalen yelled, dark spots dancing in front of his eyes. Nausea pushed bile into his throat and he nearly passed out. How he kept from either throwing up or losing consciousness was sheer luck.
When Zan’s fingers wrapped over the place where the bone had broken the skin, Kalen panted, sweat trickling down his temples into his hair. Then warmth enveloped the point of the break, and the horrible, stabbing burn gradually lessened. The heat felt good, and soon the pain was gone. Checking out his arm, he saw that his skin was covered in drying blood from the break, but the arm was as good as new.
“Thanks, Z-man,” he said, giving the guy a wan smile.
“No problem. Here.” Pushing to his feet, he offered Kalen a hand up.
He took it and stood awkwardly, not making eye contact with anyone as he waited for Nick to deliver his judgment. It came swiftly.
“I get what happened here,” the commander said in a low, stern tone. “It’s no secret that you two, in addition to your own problems, have had issues with each other from day one. But I’m not a fucking kindergarten teacher and this isn’t a playground for you two to beat the shit out of each other while you work out those issues. Is that clear?”
Kalen winced. “Yes, sir.”
“Yeah,” Aric drawled, earning him a hard stare from Nick. He cleared his throat. “I mean, yes, sir.”
“Find some common ground and do it on your own time. I’ve got a Pack to run. I don’t have time for this bullshit and neither does anyone else. If this happens again, you’re both suspended. Indefinitely.”
“What!” Aric shouted. “It wasn’t my fault! He—”
“And now you know why,” Nick enunciated. He was fast losing his trademark patience.
“You know how to read your teammate’s signals better than that, Aric. I know you do. You should have stopped and read his body language, and if you had, you’d have known something was wrong. Then you would have let him go like he asked and diffused the situation with a bit of compassion. You’re a better Pack mate and brother than this.”
Aric glanced to Rowan, found her lips tight with disapproval. His high cheekbones colored and he hung his head in shame. “You’re right, Nicky. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not me you owe the apology.”
He didn’t want to speak to Kalen at all. Anyone could see that. It hurt more than Kalen wanted to admit. But the man closed the distance and nodded.
“I’m sorry, Sorcerer. I fucked up.”
“Kalen.”
“What?” Aric’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“You’re always calling me Goth-boy, kitty, pretty boy, whatever. My name is Kalen,” he said quietly.
“Right.” Aric laughed without real humor. “Sure, Kalen, whatever.”
Nick shook his head. “All right, everyone, show’s over. Let’s call it a day.”
Kalen had never heard a better suggestion. As the group broke up, some of the guys clapped him on the back or gave him an encouraging word or two in a show of support. But none, he noted, actually stopped to really talk to him. To reach out.
Nobody ever had before. Why should now be any different?
Even Mac had left without speaking to him further. No reason she should’ve stayed after the way he’d spoken to her. Aric had been right and Kalen had been too angry to listen.
Now he was alone in the empty corridor, longing for companionship. He’d give almost anything for the joy of the easy friendships these guys shared. Not to mention a beautiful mate like Jax and Aric had found. It seemed those dreams were to remain forever out of his reach.
“Don’t you have anything to say about that?” he asked Malik bitterly.
The bastard didn’t respond, though. At that moment, he would’ve given anything for companionship, even the slimy Unseelie’s, because then he wouldn’t be so alone.
Which was, no doubt, exactly what Malik had planned.
And that was the most frightening thought of all.
Three
Kalen tossed in his bed, twisting in tangled sheets.
The night was too hot, the room stifling. He’d lowered the thermostat in his quarters, but it hadn’t helped. The cotton sheets clung to his overheated skin, sticky and miserable. For hours he’d fought for oblivion, but it remained elusive. He was restless.
So alone.
Can’t sleep?
“You’re quite the detective,” he said sarcastically to the damned Unseelie. “What do you care? And don’t the Fae sleep, either?”
A deep sigh sounded from somewhere outside, in the shadows. I care more than you know, and I rarely require sleep. Come to me, boy. I want to show you something.
A chill slithered across Kalen’s skin, despite the uncomfortable heat. The Unseelie sounded almost . . . friendly. Was this a new approach to try to worm his way into Kalen’s confidence? “No, thanks. There’s not anything you’ve got that I want to see.”
You’ll feel differently once you see it.
“Feeling sure about that, huh?”
What I’m certain of is that you’re alone. That you’re tired, so tired of walking through your existence with no one by your side who understands you.
“And you think you do?” Kalen asked tightly.
Yes. I know you better than you realize.
“What the hell does that mean?”
I’ll show you. Come.
“Go to hell.”
A darkly amused chuckle floated in the air. That’s not exactly an effective threat. While you’re straining your mind for a more original insult, get out of bed and join me. You have nothing to lose. Deep inside, you know I’m right.
The words filled him with despair. It didn’t matter that he recognized the tactic the Unseelie was using—find the point of weakness in the prey and strike. Kalen’s point of weakness also happened to be the truth.
He’d been alone and adrift since his grandmother died, not long after the day she’d given him the pendant. Ever since, he’d struggled to rise above the hatred, indifference, and ridicule thrown at him daily. It was hard to say which one hurt most.
With Kalen’s grandmother no longer an obstacle, his father’s abuse had worsened by leaps and bounds. Especially toward Kalen’s mother. On that last, terrible night, Dave Black had started beating her for some small infraction, and the sight of her cowering under his blows, crying out, made something snap in Kalen’s soul. He’d shifted into his panther form for the very first time and leaped onto his father, fully intending to rip out his throat. Only his mother’s screams for him to stop spared the bastard his fate.
When Kalen had shifted back, his gratification at seeing dear old Dad’s terror was brief. The bastard’s fearful expression quickly morphed into outright, seething hatred. He ordered his son gone from the house immediately, and he was to take nothing with him.
Kalen’s mother had remained silent, letting it happen. And his heart had broken.
That was his first experience with hatred. There’d been plenty of ridicule—Aric wasn’t the first to call him a freak, to act like Kalen didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as regular people. A recent run-in with a group of backwoods assholes at the Cross-eyed Grizzly came painfully to mind. And yeah, Mackenzie had witnessed that incident, too.
But now that he thought about it, the indifference might just be the worst. He thought of years of walking busy highways and lonely back roads. Everyone passing him by, no one caring where this drifter might be headed or what had brought him so low. Not one hand extended in welcome.
Until Nick Westfall had offered him a job with the Alpha Pack and a place to stay. Maybe—
Boy, don’t get sentimental about the commander’s gesture, Malik sneered. You know as well as I that the man would’ve shown you the door weeks ago if you hadn’t been of use to his team. Deny it!
He couldn’t, and misery swamped him anew. “I’m nothing but a tool to you, too. You’re no different from Nick, if that’s the argument you’re going with.”
I have something far greater to offer you, young Sorcerer. Something you long for badly that he can never give to you. Come and see, pet. Once you do, you’ll be free to go if you wish.
“I don’t believe you,” he gritted. “You’ll probably hold me prisoner or something.”
No. I won’t need to take such a drastic step.
Again, there was the ring of truth. Kalen was chilled, fear taking root deep in his soul. What could Malik possibly have that made him so confident Kalen would join him? What did Kalen want so badly that he’d give in to the darkness, as his grandmother had feared?
Acceptance, Malik said gently. And a place to belong.
Kalen’s pulse beat hard in his throat. “You can’t give me those things. You’re evil, and you’re lying.”
I’m neither—merely misunderstood, like you. Let me prove it.
The temptation was too much. Kalen rose from the bed and dressed, hands shaking. He was glad Malik couldn’t see them. After donning the jeans and T-shirt from earlier, he pulled on his boots and slipped from his quarters.
Moving as silently as possible, he made his way down the corridor to the compound’s recreation room. Once there, he crossed to the door leading outside and soon found himself standing in the grassy area at the back of the building where the guys played football and other games to pass their free time.
Positive he’d escaped without being spotted, he strode for the edge of the forest. Once shielded from view by the cover of the trees and surrounding gloom, he took a deep breath and relaxed, calling his panther.
The beast responded with a glad roar at being free. It had been much too long. He hit the ground on all fours, lifted his nose to the air. The scents were much sharper in this form, the ear
th more pungent. Rich. He caught the scent of animals, too, small ones that would make tasty snacks, but he resisted the hunt. Tonight he had a different purpose.
His panther ran, exulting in stretching his limbs. In the simplicity of just being free. He’d often wondered if it might be better to live in this form forever, turning his back on humanity. It could be so easy.
Then again, perhaps not. The man inside craved acceptance, and unfortunately, Malik was right. He was curious to see what the male thought he had to offer. Even more puzzling, he sensed no imminent physical threat from the Unseelie. Why?
That question nagged him all during his run. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but simply followed the pull that told him this was the right direction. The nearer he got to Malik, the stronger the force drawing him in.
He should’ve been alarmed once he passed beyond the boundaries of the wards he’d placed around the Pack compound, but he wasn’t. For miles he ran, well into the Shoshone National Forest, far past where any hunter or camper would dare to venture.
At last he came to a clearing, and in that space stood a cabin nestled in the trees. Not a small, quaint one, either. The structure was made of logs, and a covered porch traversed the front and wrapped around both sides. The place was grand, like a hunting lodge a millionaire might own, which made sense. Malik was posing as the wealthy Evan Kerrigan.
Then again . . . the cabin was too far from civilization to be part of Malik’s human cover. In fact, there was something different about this place. Something other. He became aware of a vibration along his nerve endings, sort of like a current, but one that caused him no discomfort. Immediately he identified the source—dark magic.
And it wasn’t just coming from the cabin and surrounding area. No, this place was magic itself. A beautiful illusion created by a master of the dark arts, cloaked from all except those to whom Malik wished it known. He couldn’t help but admire the skill involved in maintaining the facade.
But is it a facade if you can see and touch it, boy? I can disappear at will, so am I therefore not real?
Kalen shifted back to his human form, his clothes reappearing on his body. Quite a handy ability that none of the other guys possessed.
